Displaced by gangs, deprived of school, employment or stability, thousands of young people are still trying to take their lives back into their own hands. Through the journey of Charlande Orélus, 19, we delve into the heart of a generation that transforms survival into an act of resistance.<\/i><\/p>

At 7:57 AM on Sunday, July 12, 2026, the displaced persons camp of Bois-Verna slowly awakens. Beneath the worn tarps serving as roofs, the first voices mingle with the sounds of pots being prepared and children running in the narrow alleys. The night’s humidity still leaves puddles of water between the makeshift shelters, built with a few planks, plastic tarps, and weather-worn pieces of plywood.<\/p>

This is where Charlande Orélus begins each of his days.<\/p>

At 19, the young man does not sleep in a bed. Due to lack of space in the shelter where his family members are crowded, he spends his nights on water tanks installed in the camp. Each morning, he washes up, puts on a shirt and blue jeans, then leaves the site with a fixed idea: to learn a trade that could one day change his life.<\/p>

“The security and humanitarian crises have disrupted my life, but I refuse to let them decide my future,” he confides.<\/p>

His story is like that of thousands of young Haitians whose plans have been brutally interrupted by gang violence. Yet, despite exile, precariousness, and uncertainty, many continue to believe that another future is still possible.<\/p>

A generation hit hard<\/strong><\/p>

For several years now, Haiti has been going through one of the most serious crises in its recent history. Armed group violence has forced more than 1.4 million people<\/a> to leave their homes, according to the International Organization for Migration (IOM). In just the first quarter of this year, more than 1,600 people were killed<\/a>, reports the United Nations Integrated Office in Haiti (BINUH).<\/p>

In addition to this security crisis, there is a profound political instability. The country has not held elections in nearly ten years, depriving a large part of the youth of their first democratic experience. According to the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), 2.2 million young people<\/a> aged 18 to 27 have never had the opportunity to vote.<\/p>

For this generation, violence is not limited to armed clashes. It is also manifested in closed schools, dispersed families, non-existent jobs, and constantly postponed dreams.<\/p>

Driven from home: sleeping outside to make room for others<\/p>

Before the gangs took over Carrefour-Feuilles, a neighborhood about 3 km south of downtown Port-au-Prince, Charlande led a modest but stable life with his mother and six siblings.<\/p>

Everything changed in August 2023...<\/p>

Armed men invaded the neighborhood, setting houses on fire. Residents fled in panic.<\/p>

“We left the house under gunfire. I saw houses burning. We ran to save our lives and take our important documents. I fell and people stepped on me,” he recounts.<\/p>

Since then, the family has been living at the Bois-Verna shelter with hundreds of other displaced households. A situation that is repeated in several areas of the metropolitan region of the Haitian capital.<\/p>

According to the IOM, the number of spontaneous sites increased from 229 to 262 between December 2025 and May 2026, a sign of an ongoing worsening crisis.<\/p>

In the Bois-Verna camp, every square meter counts.<\/p>

The two shelters occupied by the family are too cramped to accommodate everyone. Charlande therefore chooses to sleep outside, on the water tanks installed by the organization Haïti Survie<\/a>.<\/p>

When it rains, he sometimes stands for hours under a covered part of the shelter, waiting for the downpour to stop.<\/p>

“One of the three tanks even collapsed under the weight of the people sleeping on it,” explains Jhonny Elizé, president of the camp.<\/p>

Despite these conditions, Charlande refuses to define himself as a victim.<\/p>

Learning to take back control of his life, choosing resilience<\/strong><\/p>

School holidays are, for him, an opportunity to invest in his future.<\/p>

For several weeks, he has been following a motorcycle mechanics training in a small workshop in Port-au-Prince. In the fall, he plans to continue his learning on weekends.<\/p>

His life project has changed.<\/p>

Before his forced displacement, he simply dreamed of finishing his classical studies, then going to university. Today, he wants to first acquire a profession that can ensure him an income.<\/p>

“I realized that many young people finish their studies without ever being able to enter university due to lack of means. I prefer to learn a trade while continuing school,” he explains.<\/p>

His admission to the workshop was, however, not easy.<\/p>

The owner hesitated to take on an additional apprentice. Charlande insisted.<\/p>

“I told him: I don’t ask for a salary. I just want to learn.”<\/p>

A few weeks later, he was already performing his first repairs.<\/p>

Changing brake pads, fixing a tire, or disassembling certain parts of a motorcycle have become familiar gestures.<\/p>

Each new skill represents, for him, a step closer to autonomy.<\/p>

The trials have profoundly transformed his outlook on the future. The word keeps coming up in his speech: move forward.<\/p>

Even on days when he hardly has anything to eat. Even when he has to walk several kilometers to get to school. Even when he doesn't know when his family will find decent housing again.<\/p>

His goal remains unchanged: to build his future and have a profession that will allow him to help his family.<\/p>

In the noise of the Bois-Verna camp, where closeness every day reminds of the brutality of the crisis, Charlande refuses to let circumstances define his destiny.<\/p>

Every morning, when he leaves the camp for his mechanics workshop, he carries with him much more than a toolbox: he carries the quiet hope of a generation that continues to believe that Haiti’s future can still be built, despite the ruins left by violence.<\/p>

When surviving becomes a way of resisting<\/strong><\/p>

However, the trials have not broken Charlande. They have transformed his way of seeing the future.<\/p>

“My resilience was born from my ability to turn a painful experience into a source of courage, learning, and hope,” he confides.<\/p>

His choice is also inspired by what he observes around him. In the shelter, several young people finish their secondary studies without ever being able to access university, due to lack of resources — and are also unemployed.<\/p>

According to the statistics<\/a> from the International Labour Organization cited by the World Bank in 2025, the unemployment rate of the 15 to 24 age group was estimated to be 37.5%. <\/p>

In addition to gang violence, another wound is the absence of his father.<\/p>

“My mother shouldn’t have to bear all these responsibilities alone,” he says.<\/p>

His mother, Marie Enise Alette, raises her seven children alone thanks to a small business that has become insufficient since their displacement.<\/p>

“I am both their mother and their father. I do what I can with the little I have,” she recounts.<\/p>

Since a close friend who helped Charlande was killed by a stray bullet in 2024, financial difficulties have increased. Due to lack of money, the young man often walks to school and sometimes depends on the solidarity of his classmates for a meal.<\/p>

Despite everything, he hopes to finish his secondary studies, enter university one day, and rent a motorcycle to work as a motorcycle taxi driver to finance his future.<\/p>

His story is far from unique.<\/p>

In Léogâne, Angélo Pierre, 21, displaced from Gressier after gang attacks, has himself given up his studies due to lack of means. He now rents a motorcycle to transport passengers and sometimes works as a mason’s assistant.<\/p>

“Every challenge that doesn’t break us strengthens our ability to move forward,” he asserts.<\/p>

For socio-economist Camille Chalmers, these trajectories illustrate the consequences of a crisis that exacerbates already existing vulnerabilities: the closure of more than 1,600 schools, high youth unemployment, and limited access to higher education. According to him, strengthening public education and vocational training is one of the most urgent responses.<\/p>

For his part, the Director General of the Office of Citizen Protection (OPC), Jean Wilner Morin, praises the strength of this youth while reminding that “their resilience is a national asset,” but that it “cannot substitute for the responsibilities of the state.”<\/p>

In the meantime, thousands of young people like Charlande are going it alone. Every morning, Charlande leaves his makeshift shelter to head to the mechanics workshop. At nightfall, he returns to sleep on a water tank. Between these two moments, he continues to build, piece by piece, a future that violence has not managed to take away from him.<\/p>