Abdelrahman
Border Crisis: Haitian Deportees Face Harsh Repercussions
BELLADERE, Haiti (AP) — On a recent morning, approximately 500 individuals emerged from dusty trucks, navigating a narrow gap in a border gate that marks the division between Haiti and the Dominican Republic. These individuals were among the day’s first deportees, some still wearing work attire while others went barefoot as they awaited food, water, and medical assistance in the Haitian border town of Belladère, pondering their next steps.
As the scorching sun beat down, these migrants shared tales of increasing mistreatment at the hands of Dominican officials, particularly after President Luis Abinader enacted a controversial policy in October mandating the deportation of at least 10,000 immigrants weekly—an initiative met with widespread condemnation from civil society organizations.
“They broke down my door at four in the morning,” recounted Odelyn St. Fleur, who had spent two decades as a mason in the Dominican Republic. He recalled the moment he was awakened next to his wife and 7-year-old son to the sound of intruding officials.
Reports of human rights abuses, ranging from illegal home invasions to racial profiling, have surged as authorities intensify deportation efforts to Haiti, which shares the island of Hispaniola with the Dominican Republic. Last year, over a quarter million people were deported, including more than 31,200 in just January.
“The situation has become critical,” remarked activist Roudy Joseph, who accused officials of neglecting due process during arrests. “Every day, children are left abandoned at schools.”
Struggles Upon Return
On a recent afternoon, several vendors lined the muddy, garbage-strewn path leading into Belladère, where recently deported men, women, and unaccompanied minors trudged through single file. The vendors peddled essentials like jeans, water, SIM cards, and even illicit journeys back to the Dominican Republic, whispering offers in Creole: “Would you like to cross? I’ll wait for you on the other side.”
Despite the government’s crackdown, many individuals attempt to re-enter the Dominican Republic, underscoring the dysfunction of the system. Among them was Jimmy Milien, a 32-year-old floor installer who faced deportation for the second time after being arrested first in Santo Domingo in 2024 and again in mid-January while on a public bus.
“Damn Haitian, get off,” he recalled officials saying before they even asked for his identification. Left behind in the Dominican Republic were his wife and two young children, aged 3 and 12, with no indication of when they would reunite. Although he intended to journey to Haiti’s capital, he now faced the grim reality of traversing gang-controlled areas notorious for violence against public transport.
“In Haiti, there’s no food, there’s nothing but criminals,” he lamented, referencing the staggering death toll of over 5,600 reported killings last year, predominantly at the hands of gangs that exert control over 85% of Port-au-Prince.
Should Milien attempt a third return to the Dominican Republic, numerous smugglers await him. A Haitian smuggler, who shared just his first name, Mack, disclosed that he transports migrants across the border up to six times a week for a fee of $3 per person—often sweetening the deal with an additional $8 bribed to Dominican border officials: “If you pay them, they will let you pass.”
Having spent three years working in Santo Domingo until his deportation, Mack has since joined an active smuggling network and plans to stay away from the capital until conditions improve.
“Here, everyone knows me,” he noted. “They don’t bother me.”
The Challenge of Unaccompanied Minors
Military checkpoints line the route away from this gritty border to the Dominican capital. Authorities stop buses, peering into car windows and detaining suspected undocumented migrants, though many jump out before reaching checkpoints, quickly reboarding further down the road. The increase in Haitian migrants trying to re-enter illegally burdens Vice Admiral Luis Rafael Lee Ballester, the Dominican migration director.
“The Dominican Republic has taken on disproportionate responsibility for the humanitarian crisis in Haiti,” he asserted. “While we are open to providing support, it is essential that Haitian leaders restore order and safeguard their citizens.”
Dominican officials claim that the influx of Haitian immigrants has strained public services, noting over 80,000 new Haitian students enrolled in public schools over the past four years. Additionally, they argue that Haitian women account for nearly 70% of births in the country, costing the government millions.
To address the growing number of undocumented immigrants, Ballester plans to deploy more migration officials nationwide, labeling the situation as both a burden and a threat to national safety. While denying allegations of abuse, he acknowledged that officials are authorized to enter homes during “hot pursuits” and described ongoing retraining efforts to ensure compliance with human rights.
Importantly, Ballester asserted that the Dominican Republic does not deport unaccompanied minors, and during deportations, officials separate women and children from men. However, in late January, five unaccompanied teenagers were still deported, including 15-year-old Jovenson Morette, who reported being detained while working in a field.
In another troubling incident, a 10-year-old girl without parental accompaniment was deported in late January. Geeta Narayan, UNICEF’s representative in Haiti, highlighted the vulnerability of these children, noting that gangs often exploit them.
Last year, the Dominican Republic saw the deportation of 1,099 unaccompanied minors, with 786 successfully reunited with their families. Concerns run high for the safety of these children, as illustrated by 45-year-old Josette Jean, whose 16-year-old son, born in the Dominican Republic, was recently deported alone to Haiti.
Fearing for her son’s safety, she rushed to the Dominican detention center to confirm he wouldn’t be deported, as officials claimed. Nevertheless, he was sent back, and later she had to pay a smuggler to bring him back to the Dominican Republic.
“Children born here have no idea where to go,” she lamented, referencing the complex situation for those deported to Haiti, which many have never visited. Many deportees, like Josette’s son, were born in the Dominican Republic but lack proper documentation, making them vulnerable to deportation. Critics accuse the government of allowing work permits to lapse and of not processing necessary documentation, leading to the loss of citizenship rights.
Concerns for the Labor Market
As mass deportations persist, Dominican employers in agriculture and construction express frustration over the labor shortages. Ballester’s suggestion to these employers? Hire Dominican nationals.
Haiti Faces a Humanitarian Crisis
A disturbing incident captured on video last year showcased Mikelson Germain, a 25-year-old attempting to flee Dominican authorities. While running across a rooftop, he was pushed off by officials, as bystanders gasped in horror, fearing he was dead. Yet, he survived the fall after landing on electrical wires.
In the wake of continued allegations of abuse, a recent uprising among Dominican citizens expressed outrage over the treatment of their Haitian neighbors, culminating in clashes with authorities.
As the cycle of deportations continues unabated, President Abinader has warned that Haiti’s deteriorating situation poses a significant risk to the region, potentially leading to an “uncontrollable wave of migration.” He called for heightened international support for a U.N.-endorsed mission striving to combat gang violence in Haiti.
“There is no Dominican solution to the Haitian crisis,” he stressed. “Haiti is struggling, and much of the international community stands idly by.”
This report includes contributions from Associated Press journalist Martín Adames Alcántara in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic.
