Echoes of Port-au-Prince: My Childhood Memories and the Lessons Haiti Cannot Afford to Forget

When I think about Haiti, I do not first remember the headlines. I remember my childhood.

I remember growing up in Port-au-Prince during the 1980s, when the city felt alive with music, laughter, and possibility. As a child, I knew nothing about politics. My parents protected me from the realities of the Duvalier era, allowing me to experience a Haiti that felt safe, welcoming, and full of life.

Some of my happiest memories were made in places that today have become symbols of insecurity.

Near Fort Saint-Claire, my friends and I waited excitedly for the sugar-cane trains headed to HASCO. As the train slowly rolled past, we reached for pieces of fresh sugar cane, chewing on the sweet stalks all the way home.

Movies were another adventure. At Ciné Mont Parnasse, one ticket often became enough for an entire group of neighborhood friends after someone quietly opened a side door. We watched endless kung-fu movies and dreamed of becoming Shaolin warriors. At Casernes Dessalines, soldiers welcomed neighborhood children inside to watch films and play basketball. Looking back, it is remarkable how accessible those spaces were.

Every Sunday, my family visited the Champ-de-Mars. We rented bicycles, listened to the National Guard concert, watched families stroll beneath the trees, and simply enjoyed being together. At the Bicentenaire, I watched young couples walking hand in hand while tourists arrived by bus to discover the Haiti we proudly called Haiti Chérie.

I remember mailing handwritten letters to pen pals overseas from the post office near the Bicentenaire. I remember institutions like the St. Vincent School caring for children with disabilities with compassion and dignity. I remember Carnival, when for three unforgettable days social class seemed to disappear as everyone celebrated together in the streets.

Those memories are real. They are not meant to deny the political repression that existed under the dictatorship. They simply reflect the world I experienced as a child. A world that many ordinary Haitians remember with affection because it was the only world they knew.

Today, many of those same places exist within neighborhoods scarred by gang violence. Every time I see photographs of the Bicentenaire or the Champ-de-Mars, I cannot help but ask the same question:

How did the Haiti of my childhood become the Haiti we see today?

The answer cannot be reduced to a single event. It is the story of decades of political failure, institutional collapse, and the abandonment of an entire generation of vulnerable children who were never given the education, protection, or opportunities they deserved.

By Guerrier Aluc, MCJ

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