They knew things were bad.
For four years, they had watched violence spread into more and more territory in Haiti. But standing in the middle of an overcrowded displacement camp in Port-au-Prince, listening to the horrors that young girls were facing daily, they could hardly believe the realities were this bad.
“There are no words to describe this,” says Jean Reynald Dorzina Maxis, communications assistant for Plan International Haiti. Dorzina Maxis was part of a small team that visited three displacement camps to gather stories from teen girls – stories they knew the world needed to hear.
Stories that reveal the real lives behind the headlines and statistics.
Each member of the team proudly calls Haiti home and feels the current crisis deeply and personally. Joining Dorzina Maxis were videographers Marc André Bonne Année and Hans Francois, from the Haitian film company BWB Films, along with photographer Nadia Todres, a U.S. expat who has lived in Haiti since 2010.
“This was my way of standing with [the people in the camps],” says Bonne Année. “I felt a deep sense of responsibility. Sharing their stories is a way of honouring their resilience.”
The house that violence built
After Haiti’s president Jovenel Moïse was murdered in 2021, political chaos and violence from armed groups began to spiral out of control.
Since then, more than a million people – half of them children – have been forced to flee their homes, often running away amid active gunfire.
Children are witnessing unspeakable violence, and boys as young as nine or 10 are joining the armed groups. “They have guns in their hands instead of books,” says Dorzina Maxis.
As the territory controlled by armed groups spreads, there are fewer and fewer places for people to escape to. Hundreds of thousands have landed in overcrowded displacement camps, where they have been living for months or even years.
The scenes that our embedded storytelling team witnessed in the camps continue to haunt them.
Privacy stripped away
In one corner of the camp, Todres found a teenage girl and her family crammed into a space no bigger than a closet. On one side, a sheet served as the only dividing wall from the residents “next door.” On the other side, a brick wall with a large open window overlooked the street. “There were half a dozen men standing below the window,” says Todres. “Where is that girl supposed to get changed?”
“Families are living in a space the size of a tabletop,” adds Dorzina Maxis. And with so little privacy, the girls reported frequent harassment from men in the camp. They said that they dread bathing, because men and boys gather to spy on them at the public showers.
“I’m not used to bathing in front of people,” 15-year-old Isabelle* told them. “It makes me cry. When I was home, I could bathe whenever I wanted. Now, I wait until midnight.”
Dorzina Maxis says the camps are also seeing an increase in adolescent pregnancy, both because of sexual violence committed by armed groups outside of the camps and, he suspects, because of rapes occurring within the camps.
“I’m scared for what is going to happen to these girls,” Todres says. “They can’t keep living like this.”
“Families are living in a space the size of a tabletop.”
–Jean Reynald Dorzina Maxis, Plan Haiti communications assistant
Cuts in aid to Haiti are accelerating disaster
When USAID funds were abruptly frozen in January, Haiti lost approximately US$330 million in outstanding commitments to ongoing humanitarian aid programs – a loss that was felt immediately. Many aid organizations had to pull out of the displacement camps due to lack of funding, including some that were providing clean water and other hygiene and sanitation relief. “Now we’ve had 10 cases of cholera reported in one of the camps,” says Dorzina Maxis. “That number will keep going up.”
For Todres, who first began taking photographs in Haiti after the 2010 earthquake there, the absence of aid is a drastic and visible difference between then and now.
“After the earthquake, there was a lot of humanitarian support coming in,” she says. “There were distributions of food and materials, and medical clinics on a regular basis. You would see people living in makeshift tent homes from aid organizations. At least then they had their own little space.”
Today, there’s no comparable shelter. The displacement camps are set up inside schools or other buildings, and people are all crammed into the same space together. The food and medical support that does exist isn’t nearly enough to meet the need.
“Families in the camps have no way to buy food, or to cook it,” says Todres. Few people have cooking stoves, and the girls she interviewed reported that rats eat through their stored food at night – and bite their toes while they sleep. Fifteen-year-old Barbara* told Todres, “I spend so much time without food that when I finally get some, it upsets my stomach.”
And in the past few months, the armed groups have moved closer to the camps as the areas of Port-au-Prince not already in their control shrink. Dorzina Maxis says there are now gunshots near the camps every day.
“People are trapped living there,” says Todres. “They have nowhere to go.”
A human crisis, a human cost
For Bonne Année, meeting the girls in the camps drove home the human side behind the headlines.
“This is not just a political crisis,” says Bonne Année. “Behind every displacement, there are families torn apart, women and children living in fear, and entire communities suffering the loss of safety and dignity. Looking into their eyes and hearing their voices, it made me realize that statistics and news reports can never capture the full human cost of what’s happening.”
But Bonne Année wants the world to see more than just the suffering. He also wants to show the strength and humanity they witnessed.
“These girls taught me what resilience truly looks like,” he says.
Like Isabelle, who brought six of her school notebooks with her when she fled her home. Her mother can’t afford to send her to school anymore, but she goes to lessons held in the camp by local organizations partnering with international NGOs and she diligently reviews her notes to preserve what she can. She hopes to go back to school one day and become a nurse. “School is the only way to become someone useful,” she said.
Or like Barbara, who holds onto hope because her mother asks her to. “She is always cheering me up,” Barbara said, “even though I see sorrow in her eyes.”
Barbara knows her own strength because of what she has survived. “I’ve managed to stay alive,” she said. “If you don’t give yourself the courage of 10 men or 10 women, you won’t get anything.”
For Bonne Année, Todres, Francois and Dorzina Maxis, these stories showcase some of what they love about Haiti.
“I want the world to see the strength of the Haitian people,” says Bonne Année. “Their courage to survive, to hope and to rebuild despite everything.”
“These girls taught me what resilience truly looks like.” –Marc André Bonne Année, videographer for BWB Films
Haiti crisis urgently needs the world's attention
When asked what she wants the world to know from inside Haiti, Todres says, “I know there are other crises in the world, but if this isn’t an S.O.S. situation, I don’t know what is. I don’t think people get it.”
Bonne Année and Dorzina Maxis echoed this plea for action. “Haiti deserves people who stay, who care and who act,” says Bonne Année. “I choose to be one of them.”
But, they add, the country needs more support from the international community. “Haiti is more than its struggles,” says Bonne Année. “It’s a country full of humanity that deserves attention, solidarity and real solutions – not silence.”
Support children living in crisis in Haiti and around the world
Isabelle, Barbara, Carla and Solange represent thousands of children whose futures hang in the balance. Your support for Plan’s Children in Crisis Response Fund provides emergency aid, protection services and hope to youth like them – not only in Haiti, but wherever crisis strikes.
Every dollar helps deliver food, clean water, safe spaces and the chance for children to reclaim their childhoods. These resilient young people have shown us what survival looks like. Now they need the world to show them what solidarity looks like.
*The names of the girls interviewed have been changed for their protection. Psychological support was made available during and after their interviews to address the potential emotional effects of sharing their stories, and care was taken throughout the interviews to avoid re-traumatization.