Retelling an old story with new hopes | A reporter’s experience

Editor’s note: This is part of the THT series, “Not Yet Gone, But Forgotten: The Last Survivors of the 1937 Parsley Massacre Speak.” Find the whole series [here].

FORT-LIBERTÉ, Haiti —  The town of Dajabon in the Dominican Republic is less than 5 miles east of where I live in Haiti. Sometimes, I cross over there just for a long walk. Other times, I make the trek to buy household essentials or browse the shops along Calle Sanchez. 

One extremely sweltering day last July, while on assignment there to report on a rise in Haitian deportations, I saw something that really touched me deeply: A cattle truck crammed with Haitian people, some who looked just like me, packed up like sardines. Fear and humiliation marked their faces.

As the truck passed me, my thoughts turned to the 1937 massacre, specifically the people who had fled the Dominican Republic in droves. My mind went to the few victims still alive in remote villages all around the northeast part of Haiti. I thought of the promises and pledges made that have died with each successive generation. I decided then to meet a few of these survivors and hear them tell their stories before they no longer could.

Days later, I set out for Dosmont, one of several remote villages where these victims and their families still live. They welcomed me into their homes, most of them constructed of packed sand, wood and tin coverings. 

Our talks revealed scars, both visible markings and invisible lashes, that they still carry. As I sat face-to-face with these victims, it was as though I had been transported to a different era. I could not believe I was sitting with these messengers from nearly a century ago. Our talks revealed scars, both visible markings and invisible lashes, that they still carry. 

Sitting in front of these elders impressed on me the pain that the massacre of 1937 left behind etched onto their souls. These people asked for nothing more than to live in peace in a country that their ancestors gave their blood to liberate.

Rage and pain came through as they recounted their stories. For some, hope that those responsible for the massacre would finally ask for forgiveness is fading. Equal parts indifference and heartfelt desire warred among them when the talk turned to reparations. I could taste their disgust when they said they never returned to the Dominican Republic. 

 I could taste their disgust when they said they never returned to the Dominican Republic.

“It would be like stabbing our ancestors all over again,” said Dumel Saintilnord, 89, his voice shaking.

During that first visit, I met Marcelus Jean, one of the oldest surviving victims at age 102. When I first laid eyes on him, I had to keep myself from breaking down crying. He lay on a thin nat, a sisal straw mat, unable to receive proper medical care. He still bore much bitterness from a lifetime of being ignored. 

“I just hope for another way of life for my husband before he dies,” his wife Elcilie Jean said at the time.

That wish unfortunately did not come true.

Like Jean, many spoke of living impoverished lives, unable to afford basic care in their old age. When they speak, their voices are often strained, their words labored, and their breaths shallow. Some pause frequently, as if each memory weighs heavily, draining what little strength they have left. 

Their children, too, bear the weight of this legacy – trapped in cycles of poverty, struggling to survive. To them, the massacre isn’t just a part of history. It’s a wound that never healed, one that enlarged and festered.

On a second visit to Dosmont, a group of survivors and their families directly blamed the Dominican Republic for not only killing loved ones but for also stealing the lands and crops. The sense that their own country had abandoned them also struck me. 

Haiti’s leadership is largely silent on this old, festering wound. Diplomatic talks over the years have resulted in no reparations these survivors deserve. Many spoke with frustration about how the Dominican Republic continues to mistreat Haitians today, like those fellow citizens on that truck.

When speaking with the oldest survivors, there was a heaviness in the air, a weight of despair that I tried to keep from falling under. I had to compose myself emotionally to keep asking questions, to keep listening, even when their sadness was almost too much to bear.

My colleague, Onz Chery, a reporter, and I, sought out even more survivors on my third visit to Dosmont. To track them down, we navigated the dusty roads by motorcycle and raced against looming rain storms common in that part of the country. Each new survivor only strengthened our determination.

For those two days, I felt like Onz and I weren’t more than reporters. We were messengers of truth, committed to sharing the horrors of 1937 and amplifying the call for justice. 

“Yes, I hope we will get justice and reparations,” some have said, clinging to the hope that has sustained them through decades.

My fourth visit to Dosmont came with a shock. Jean had died a week prior. 

Saddened and unsure of what to do, I called my editor in New York.

“Madam, nou pedi youn nan viktim yo,” I told her, my voice cracking in my own ears. “ We lost one of the survivors.”

She told me to follow along because the imminent death of these victims, sadly, is a part of this saga. 

Covering the transition of these elders was the least we could do, we both agreed. For me, as a neighbor and child of this conflict-prone region, the bare minimum I could do is to tell the world their truth. A truth with more layers than a simple “border conflict” description can unveil.

Even if that telling does not immediately benefit these last survivors, perhaps doing so will help the long-overdue healing needed on both sides of the border. Maybe, eventually, such stories might just bring about the neighborly relations necessary to truly make attacks on Haitians a thing of the past. 

The post Retelling an old story with new hopes | A reporter’s experience appeared first on The Haitian Times.

---

Retelling an old story with new hopes | A reporter’s experience was first posted on October 11, 2024 at 8:52 am.