The Sea, Fear, and Stubborn Hope: A Doctor's Chronicle in Haiti

I am a doctor and the founder of "Éveil des Veuves" (EV) Widows' Awakening" an organization that supports widows and reaches out to women silenced by violence. From Jérémie, I witness the daily deterioration of my country, Haiti. My commitment is to give a voice back to these forgotten widows, because I want their stifled cry to resonate where it needs to be heard. So many of them live in constant fear, a fear that has become the tragic soundtrack of our lives.

A recent trip to Port-au-Prince for a crucial appointment became a chilling window into the reality for millions of my compatriots. My reservation with Sunrise Airways was cancelled the day before the flight, rescheduled for the very day of my appointment. Airplanes, those vital links between our regions, are now nothing but fragile threads, quick to snap.

Forced to turn to the sea, I went to Miragoâne to board a boat to the capital. It was my first time on this sea route. From the moment I reached the wharf, a disorganized chaos and stress overwhelmed me, a brutal reflection of our precariousness. But the real nightmare began upon arrival.

In Port-au-Prince, the vehicle meant to transport me could only drop me at Champ de Mars, a red zone and epicenter of insecurity. Getting out there, as a woman, a doctor, and a leader, was an act of forced courage. Every step was a calculated risk, every glance a potential threat.

That day, a truth struck me: in Haiti today, we no longer live, we survive. Only the day we can see counts.

So, why take such risks? Why brave the sea and the red zones? Because my mission is greater than my fear. "Éveil des Veuves" is a bulwark against despair. Every widow we help to get back on her feet, every means of subsistence we enable her to find, is a seed of peace planted in the arid soil of violence.

I am not just a victim of insecurity; I am a physician to the soul of my nation. I dress the invisible wounds of loss and terror. Here, peace is not just the absence of gangs; it means the concrete presence of justice, dignity, and opportunity for women.

My appeal is therefore this: Listen to the Haitian women. Hear the widows whose husbands were cut down by violence. Pay attention to the mothers struggling to feed their children. Lend an ear to those who, like me, navigate between the sea and terror just to remain standing.

Do not reduce my country to a crisis. See in us a resilient people, carried by the silent courage of its women. Our strength lives in our testimonies. Support our local solutions, listen to our voices, and help us build peace from the inside, one widow, one community, one act of courage at a time.

Despite everything, we are still standing.