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- A burned land
Once densely covered with pines, some 97 percent of Haiti's trees have disappeared since the arrival of European colonists. Unchecked logging operations, reaching their peak in the 1950s, destroyed significant amounts of trees, but Haiti's rural population has become trapped in a cycle of environmental destruction: without trees to hold it in place, much of the country's topsoil has been washed away, reducing the available arable land to such a degree that those who might otherwise raise crops now fell the few remaining trees to burn and sell as charcoal. Reforestation programs, begun in the late 1980s, failed as more trees were cut down than were planted. The photo shows a deforested mountain range in Haiti's Central Plateau region. Newer reforestation projects, which substitute fruit trees and other cash crops, show more promise, but unless steps are taken immediately, it is likely that Haiti's remaining forests will disappear. Credit: Daniel Morel/Wozo Productions
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- The storm's toll
This image, taken from the air over the village of Mapou in May of 2004, is clear evidence that Haiti's environmental crisis is no abstraction. The floods pictured killed 2,000 people in the area near the Dominican border. Without tree cover, the soil of Haiti's mountain ranges (the country is 70 percent mountainous) simply cannot hold water -- a disastrous situation in a tropical country, which faces heavy rains each year. Flash flooding has become all too common during the rainy season; the impact of tropical storms and hurricanes is magnified, sometimes horrifically, by the ravaged landscape. Tropical storm Jeanne, which hit in September of 2004, submerged much of the city of Gonaives in mud and debris, killed some 3,000 people, and displaced tens of thousands more. So long as Haiti's deforestation goes unaddressed, such disasters are likely to be repeated. Credit: Daniel Morel/Wozo Productions
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- Crowded streets
Long a primarily rural country, Haiti has urbanized significantly over the past half century. The capital, Port-au-Prince, which had fewer than 700,000 residents in the late 1960s, has become a megacity, with as many as 2.5 million people -- almost a third of the country's population -- inhabiting the city and its surrounding areas. Most have come to the city seeking work, since environmental and economic factors have made it impossible for most Haititans to practice subsistence agriculture. The continuing collapse of rural infrastructure (which the transitional government has not been able to address) has accelerated migration to the urban center. The population density of Port-au-Prince is now incredibly high -- as many as 750 people per acre in slum areas, one of the highest in the world. Credit: Two Tone Productions
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- The view from above
The gap between rich and poor in Haiti is clearly visible in the architecture of Pétionville, the hilltop suburb to the east of Port-au-Prince that is home to the country's elite, the 1 percent of the population which, some sources say, owns in excess of 50 percent of Haiti's wealth. Pétionville -- Haiti's wealthiest town -- has a shopping district, restaurants, hotels, cafes, nightclubs; the amenities absent from Port-au-Prince are in evidence here. Still, the homes of the elite are surrounded by walls topped with barbed wire, and the grounds are patrolled by armed guards. There is not only a gap, but open resentment, if not outright antagonism between rich and poor in Haiti, exacerbated, perhaps, by the recent interest criminal and political gangs have taken in kidnapping for ransom as a method of raising funds. Many of Pétionville's residents work or own businesses in Port-au-Prince, and they are likely targets of the carjackings and kidnappings that have become common -- 6 to 12 kidnappings have taken place every day in the past months in the capital alone. Credit: Two Tone Productions
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- On the Outside
Historically, Haiti's peasantry -- those living outside of Port-au-Prince -- were referred to as "moun andeyo," the "people without." They were ignored by the state, which refused to look after their needs or invest in their progress. Even with the explosive growth of Port-au-Prince's population, a majority of Haitians today live outside of cities, and many of them have little interest in the state or national politics. Perhaps half of the population has so little to do with official institutions that they carry no photo identification -- a major challenge for electoral officers attempting to register potential voters. A great number of Haitians still live, for the most part, outside of modernity itself -- adult literacy rates are below 50 percent, many have no access to electricity or potable water, and the country ranks 150th out of 175 nations on the UN's Human Development Index, which takes into account a variety of factors affecting human welfare. This boy is part of a family of squatters living not only outside the city, but outside the law, illegally farming beets in La Visite State Park. Credit: Daniel Morel/Wozo Productions
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- Vodou
While Haiti is a deeply Catholic country, that Catholicism has always coexisted with the practice of Vodou, a religion that has roots in the animist beliefs of West Africa (from where many of the slaves brought to Haiti originally hailed), but incorporates elements of Catholicism and even some traditions that date back to the native Taino people. Here, at the Port-au-Prince cemetery, people pray at the cross of Baron Samedi, the Vodou spirit of the dead, on the holiday of Gede. Though Vodou has been practiced in Haiti for three centuries -- and a Vodou ceremony gave rise to one of the first serious slave uprisings in eighteenth-century Haiti -- the religion was only recognized officially by the state in 2003. Credit: Daniel Morel/Wozo Productions
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- The burdens of history
Seen here is the Citadelle Laferriere, one of the Caribbean's most imposing architectural monuments, built by Henri Christophe to defend Haiti against the possible return of French troops. Christophe, who ruled northern Haiti following Dessalines' assassination in 1806, crowned himself King in 1811, installed a royal court styled after the monarchies of Europe, and based his economy on plantation labor. The Citadelle, built with forced labor, but meant to defend the newly independent Haitian people against the European colonizers who'd sought to keep them enslaved, stands as both clear physical evidence of dictatorial rule and as a symbolic bulwark in the defense of freedom -- embodying the contradictions that have plagued Haiti from the time it declared independence, contradictions it has yet to completely escape. Credit: Daniel Morel/Wozo Productions
