Trouble started in July 2018 in the capital, Port-au-Prince, 54 miles to the north.
The government has just announced a 50% increase in fuel prices following a deal with the International Monetary Fund, causing protests to turn violent, with protesters looting shops and police firing tear gas. The protesters called for accountability, most notably involving $2 billion from PetroCaribe, an oil deal with Venezuela aimed at helping Haiti invest in infrastructure and social programs.
Economic growth stalled and inflation spiked. The question that’s always on everyone’s mind: What did Haiti do to get $13 billion from the world, thousands of volunteers and countless projects?
Tourists hardly go to Haiti – and many Haitians have already left, including Gilles, who moved to the Dominican Republic in December 2019 for two years so he could find work and save some money . Today, he’s trying to set up a small snack and drink shop on the Dominican Republic-Haitian border. Despite his desire to stay in southern Haiti, he said, “I really want to have a job and feel independent.”
About half a dozen Surf Haiti founders and older members are among those who have left, most of them coming to the US after entering college or finding work.
When the board started to break, no one brought a new board. Wax became scarce. Visitors slowed, and the kids who had waited for Pierce to sail ashore years earlier were now in college, with no job prospects and no income.
Andris said: “The people who have been there to encourage and support us are not here as much.
And then, the pandemic hit. Jules’ support for the Olympics failed when he was unable to get the support he needed from sponsors and the local government in Jacmel. Last year, less than a dozen people showed up for surfing classes, a far cry from years where many people come to watch each month.
In recent months, gangs have taken over the main road out of the capital city, cutting it off from the south; Few people dare to pass by it. Another route, a long, steep and narrow stretch of road, was too dangerous in light rain. Limited water taxis.
Currently, the flow of visitors to Kabic Beach is barely active. The remaining members of Surf Haiti said they plan to sell T-shirts with the organization’s logo and handmade souvenirs online.
Meanwhile, most are locals in the water, less than half a dozen of them this morning. Managers are teaching their younger siblings to surf in an effort to keep the sport going. Frantzy’s 13-year-old brother, Samuel Andris, was near the shore one recent morning, stopping to watch the waves build up and try to catch the smaller ones.
Further down, Jules practices his more advanced moves. He learned some of them while surfing in the Dominican Republic in 2019, in the only competition he entered abroad. After a while, he emerged from the water, patted his adopted dog, Brutus, on the head, and climbed the steps to the courtyard of the abandoned house – Pierce’s home, years ago. With no job prospects or an active gym in the neighborhood, Jules spends most of her time here doing push-ups in the grass.
He still dreams of participating in surfing competitions in Brazil, Hawaii and Tahiti.
“It’s like a person wakes up and has to walk,” says Jules. “I see surfing the same way.”
