What My Kidnapping Taught Me About Haitian Captivity
I was kidnapped in Haiti on April 12th, 2023, and held for 43 days. I was beaten, terrorized and tortured (listed in order of preference). I escaped for about 8 hours but only made it about a mile before I was recaptured by a neighboring gang and returned to my cell. It was terrible. I lost about 50 pounds before being released on May 24th.
On the night of my first day of captivity, my wife received a call from the U.S. Embassy in Haiti informing her of my kidnapping. She was also told that the U.S. government, understandably, could not do much to help. She would have to figure it out. She did. She is my hero. A book should be written about what she did and who she became in order to achieve it.
The days following my release were fantastic. My reunion with my wife and family, my first hot shower, meal, bed, pain killers — all were wonderful. The trauma damage to all involved, including my wife, my rescue team, my first negotiator (who eventually needed to be relieved from exhaustion), my family, and the very few friends who were permitted to know what was happening, was and is significant.
In the days and weeks after my return to the U.S., I would avoid talking about the experience because it was still too raw. However, I was invited to an event in Miami that sought to raise awareness of security issues in Haiti. Because of my work with StimPack, this was the kind of event I’ve attended many times. I was hesitant to go but decided that I should be there.
When I arrived, I knew only a handful of the attendees, and two of them were actually aware of my experience. One of them was a reporter for the Miami Herald named Jacqueline Charles. She received word of my kidnapping from her vast array of sources in Haiti within days of my capture but mercifully kept it out of the news for my safety — a kindness I won’t soon forget.
During the event, I mingled with the other guests. We all spoke of our work in Haiti and exchanged ideas on various work streams in Haiti like governance, economic development, and of course, security. During one of these conversations, I spoke with a Haitian gentleman about the recent reports that gangs were in control of about 85% of the capital. I’m not sure why I told him of my recent kidnapping. Perhaps it was for credibility around a point I was trying to make. However, part of me was likely still looking for sympathy for my traumatic experience. Surely, if anyone is going to understand what it means to be kidnapped in Haiti, it’s Haitians. So I told him. His first reaction was unexpected. “Wow, I’m sorry to hear that. I understand that’s a great weight loss program.” I was startled. If it was sympathy I was looking for, I wasn’t getting it. This guy had quickly responded with a kidnapping joke! How familiar with kidnapping does one have to be to have a clever quip at the ready?
It’s hard for foreigners to understand daily life for Haitians.
At one point in our conversation, I noticed the man kept looking at a map on his phone. He eventually apologized for repeatedly looking at his phone and explained that he was tracking his mother's location. She was in Haiti and insisted that she go to the grocery store for herself and refused to be on lockdown to avoid being kidnapped. By the end of our conversation, he breathed a sigh of relief that she’d returned home safely.
This is the reality for many Haitians as of this writing.
Most of the others with whom I was held captive had been targeted. The kidnappers had targeted them. They knew their targets well, their workplaces, vehicles, where they banked, routes home, etc.
In the past, only the rich in Haiti needed to be vigilant against kidnapping. But in recent months, the gangs are running out of rich targets for their pillage. They are now settling for just about anyone with a car or a job. People have begun wearing disguises to go to the bank in order to look poor in hopes of deceiving anyone scouting for the gangs.
This is the terror many Haitians face. Their basic freedoms are being taken away by these gangs and are essentially held captive in their own neighborhoods.
If you live in an area that is now controlled by one of the over 80 separate gangs, then your captivity is even worse and takes on a more obvious form.
It is important to note the difference between neighborhoods that have been controlled by gangs for many years, like those within Cite Soleil, vs. areas that have only recently expelled all police presence and have had gangs take over the territory. The former operates more like micro-nations unto themselves. The gang chef (Haitian Kreyol for chief or boss) will often rule these neighborhoods more like a dictator that rules the neighborhood but also may provide some services, not the least of which is a ‘national defense’ against rival neighborhoods. I once stood in a school full of bullet holes in one of these neighborhoods. Many of the shots had come from a sniper's perch just a few hundred feet away. In these areas, their captivity is more complicated than a villain/victim relationship and has more to do with their lack of economic opportunities to lift themselves. Such areas are deeply challenging. When we show up to these places for various projects, these people jump at the chance to work. They work incredibly hard.
You should see a Haitian male who hasn’t eaten in a day or perhaps two spring into action to carry three 55 lb sacks of rice on his shoulders. To call Haitians lazy is ignorant. These people are stuck in what economists call a Poverty Trap. We won’t go into detail here but in short, it is when your environment makes it difficult if not impossible to escape poverty. The people of Cite Soleil have been in this trap for generations. This too is captivity.
In contrast, in the area where I was kidnapped and held, known as Grand Ravine, the gangs have only recently taken over from the police following the assassination of President Jovenel Moïse in 2021 and the political chaos that has followed. Grand Ravine is now extremely sparse compared to its former self. I’d estimate perhaps 60% of the population has left the area in hopes of escaping the Ti Lapli gang. Those who remain have no other viable options to escape. They are being held captive in their hometown.
The day I was released, I sat in the back seat of a previously stolen SUV. The kidnappers were driving me to the live exchange in Martissant, very close to where I was initially attacked and taken 43 days prior. While doing so, we were slowly rolling through a nearly deserted neighborhood. The walls were often covered with murals of local gang leaders, rappers and Vladimir Putin. We pulled up next to a woman in her early twenties doing dishes in the gutter. She was dressed immodestly, as many Haitian women do, not because they want to dress that way but because more clothing costs more money to buy and maintain.
The gang chef driving the SUV said something rude to her. She looked up and snapped back at him with a few insults. I was stunned. She was risking her life disrespecting this chef like that. The chef lifted his assault rifle that was previously between his knees so the woman could see it. He was threatening her. She didn’t flinch. She stood up, you could see the frustration boiling up inside her. She’d clearly had enough of the gangs' terror. She let out a verbal barrage of absolute fury on this chef, things she’d clearly been just waiting to say to someone. He then lifted his assault rifle and pointed it at her chest while still sitting behind the wheel. Just as I expected her to calm down and let the chef win this clear power struggle, she doubled down and stepped toward the SUV putting the tip of the rifle within inches of her own chest. I was heartbroken for her. She was killing herself. She slowly said something along the lines of, “Do it. You’d be helping me. I don’t care.” It was silent for a long while. The chef broke the silence with a huff, put down his weapon and drove on. The toughness of that woman would be hard to overstate.
Haiti is full of that kind of toughness. They’ve been hardened by adversity and the nearly constant state of having almost nothing to lose. They are trapped by these gangs and they want their freedom.
The recent vigilante justice movement in Haiti known as Bwa Kale (literally translated as bald wood, refers to fighting with whatever is available) has become a war cry for many as Haitian citizens take matters into their own hands. Many of these Bwa Kale movements are led by women. Several areas have successfully overthrown their captors in gruesome displays of desperate, lawless rage involving machetes, stones and bonfires. I am not advocating or celebrating this behavior but I am deeply empathetic to the forces that move someone to the point that they behave in this way and am slow to judge them. Their daily feats of survival are hard to envisage from our first world perspective.
My many trips to Haiti (my most recent trip, in particular) have taught me that freedom is worth fighting for. Not only my own freedom, but for others as well. Humanity is built to choose their destiny. Losing my ability to choose was absolutely devastating for me, but it is the default setting for so many in Haiti today. Many have lost the ability to make even the most basic of life’s choices, to work, to learn, to worship or even go to the hospital.
The cynics say that Haiti should solve their own problems. What do you say?
This fall the U.N. Security Council mercifully authorized a Multinational Security Support Mission to Haiti to assist the Haitian National Police to defeat these gangs. I believe this mission will begin to ramp up early this year and will eventually be successful. Basic order will eventually be restored. Elections will eventually happen. There are many bright minds working hard to make certain that free and fair elections take place. A new president, prime minister, and national assembly will eventually begin to democratically govern Haiti. I believe that many foreign agencies will support Haiti in maturing its self-governing capacity, its infrastructure, police force, and other forms of nation-building.
Will Haiti be able to successfully sustain such self-governance independently?
Here’s my request that I believe will increase their likelihood for success.
Economic development budgets from all foreign donors should be double that of humanitarian aid budgets for Haiti in perpetuity. If we don’t make dramatic improvements to Haitis economic engine, we will be right back here again at some point in the tragically near future.
If massive investments are made into Haiti’s manufacturing, agriculture, tech services, and innovation sectors, we will see Haiti begin to thrive.
Humanitarian aid dollars are critical, but they must be accompanied by far greater economic assistance. Otherwise, the population will continue to grow without a productive economy to support it.
Haitians need our help. They are worthy of it. There are clear solutions available. There are smart and talented people at many agencies and NGOs ready to do this good work - a work that has the added benefit of being better for donor nations as well!
Thank you for your time and support. If you learned something of value here, please share this post on your favorite socials, then contact your Senator and Congressional Representative today, to let them know what you learned and how you feel. Tell them that you support candidates that support Haiti. This actually works!
Thank you for caring.
