I sat in our bus gazing out the windows, unable to say a word. Right in front of me stood the mountain that separated the Dominican Republic from Haiti. Everything I had read about became reality.
The 500 yards approaching the border are completely barren. There is a skinny path of gravel for vehicles to drive on but surrounding the path are once homes now completely flooded. Only the roof-tops are visible, peaking out of the water.
Once at the border there are two gates. The first gate you step through takes you to no-mans land. The second gate crosses you into Haiti. There is a market that stands between the two gates. Once you enter no-mans land you are in a completely anarchic existence where no one can protect you.
We were warned of the risk and danger that we would be putting ourselves in if we chose to enter no-mans land but were given the choice to decide. For those of us interested in crossing into no-mans land we would be given one armed Dominican police officer with no official authority once between the two gates.
I chose to cross through into no-mans land. I needed to feel the fear that these people feel everyday.
While Haiti is not no-mans land, the level of security seems relatively the same. Imagine living in a failed state...one where not even the police can protect you; living in a city where 450 gangsters roam the streets due to a collapsed prison.
I did not even spend 10 seconds in no-mans land before turning back and heading for the bus. My heart was in my throat.
I was able to get back on the bus, turn around, and drive away from that insecurity. I get to leave these places whenever I choose. But every time I leave, I know that I leave people behind that are trapped there.
Nothing can explain standing in front of the border, knowing that right through the second gate there is a place so forsaken it seems hopeless.
Haiti was in arms reach of me today but I was not able to do anything. I drove away from the faces of Haitians that are all too similar to those faces of Ghanaians reminding me that they were never supposed to be there to begin with...they were forced.
It is not fair.
Jimani is where we were.
