At the Chemin des Dalles camp, Pablo is recognized by his voice. This Sunday morning, between a 250-gourde bowl of soup and the hubbub of displaced people, he recounts what the violence has left him with. It is 8 a.m. We are at the Mormon church site, a few steps from Carrefour Ti-Fou.

“My name is Pablo. Yeah. I am Haitian. My mother is Dominican.”