BELLADERE, Haiti (AP):
A crowd of 500 descended from dusty trucks on a recent morning and shuffled through a tiny gap in a border gate separating Haiti from the Dominican Republic.
They were the first deportees of the day, some still clad in work clothes and others barefoot as they lined up for food, water and medical care in the Haitian border city of Belladère before mulling their next move.
Under a broiling sun, the migrants recounted what they said were mounting abuses by Dominican officials after President Luis Abinader ordered them in October to start deporting at least 10,000 immigrants a week under a harsh new policy widely criticised by civil organisations.
“They broke down my door at four in the morning,” said Odelyn St Fleur, who had worked as a mason in the Dominican Republic for two decades. He had been sleeping next to his wife and seven-year-old son.
The number of alleged human rights violations ranging from unauthorised home raids to racial profiling to deporting breastfeeding mothers and unaccompanied minors is surging as officials ramp up deportations to Haiti, which shares the island of Hispaniola with the Dominican Republic.
More than a quarter million people were deported last year, and more than 31,200 in January alone.
“The situation has reached a critical point,” said Roudy Joseph, an activist who accused officials of ignoring due process during arrests. “Every day, children are left abandoned at schools.”
‘I’LL WAIT FOR YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE’
On a recent afternoon, dozens of vendors lined up on either side of the men, women and unaccompanied children who marched single file into Belladère after being deported, their feet sinking into a muddy, garbage-strewn trail that smelled of urine.
The men tried to sell them jeans, water, SIM cards and illegal trips back to the Dominican Republic: “Would you like to pass through? I’ll wait for you on the other side,” they whispered in Creole.
Despite the crackdown, many re-enter the Dominican Republic, exposing a broken system.
That afternoon marked the second time Jimmy Milien, a 32-year-old floor installer, was deported. He was arrested in the capital, Santo Domingo, in 2024 and again in mid-January when authorities boarded a public bus and pointed at him.
“Damn devil Haitian, get off,” he recalled them saying before they even asked for documents.
He left behind his wife and two children, ages three and 12, and doesn’t know when he’ll see them again.
He was planning to travel to Haiti’s capital, but like thousands of others dropped off in Belladère, he would have to cross through gang territory where gunmen open fire on public transport.
“There’s no food, there’s nothing, only criminals,” he said of Haiti, where more than 5,600 people were reported killed last year, the majority by gangs that control 85 per cent of the capital, Port-au-Prince.
If Milien were to return a third time to the Dominican Republic, dozens of smugglers await.
Mack, a Haitian who only gave his first name to speak freely about smuggling, said he ferries migrants across the border up to six times a week.
He charges US$3 per person, and then offers US$8 to Dominican border guards: “If you pay them, they will let you through,” he said.
He lived almost three years in Santo Domingo, installing drywall until he got deported. He then joined a thriving smuggling operation and said he doesn’t plan on returning to the capital until the crackdown eases.
“Here, everyone knows me,” he said. “They don’t bother me.”
Military checkpoints dot the road leading out of the dusty border to the Dominican capital. Authorities board buses, stick their heads into car windows and detain suspected undocumented migrants, but many jump out before a checkpoint and hop on again further down the road.
The influx of Haitian migrants and their attempts to re-enter illegally is something that vexes Vice Admiral Luis Rafael Lee Ballester, Dominican migration director.
“The Dominican Republic … has taken too much responsibility for the situation in Haiti,” he said. “We are willing to provide support, but it’s important that Haiti’s leaders instill order in their country, that they look after their people.”
Dominican officials argue that Haitian immigrants have overburdened the country’s public services, with more than 80,000 new Haitian students enrolled in public schools in the past four years. Health officials say Haitian women account for up to 70 per cent of births in the country, costing the government millions of dollars.