There are moments when words feel too small. What happened in Kenscoff is one of them. During the night of August 23 into August 24, armed men descended on communities in Kenscoff, in the hills above Port-au-Prince. By morning, families were mourning their loved ones, homes had been burned, people were missing, and a community that had already lived with growing insecurity was facing another unimaginable tragedy. At least 47 people were killed, including five children. Many others were injured, and dozens were abducted. People seeking refuge from the violence were also attacked, including at a church. Forty-seven. It's easy to read a number like that in a headline and keep scrolling. But those aren't just numbers. They were mothers and fathers. Sons and daughters. Brothers, sisters, friends and neighbors. They were people with plans for Monday morning. People somebody was expecting to see again. And now there are families trying to understand how an ordinary night could end with someone they love never coming home. A Small Moment of Hope In the middle of so much grief, there has been some welcome news. UNICEF confirmed that 13 of those abducted — six children and seven women — have been released after days in captivity. Among the children are three under the age of two, a seven-year-old and two teenage girls. UNICEF says it worked alongside community leaders in efforts that contributed to their release. For those families, imagine that moment. After days of not knowing. Days of fear. Days of wondering whether they would ever see their loved ones again. Then finally, they're coming home. We should be grateful for that. But we also cannot forget the families who are still waiting. Reports differ on the exact number originally abducted — the United Nations has described it as dozens, while other reporting has put the number above 50. What remains clear is that the release of these 13 people does not bring this nightmare to an end for everyone. Some families are still waiting for their own good news. Kenscoff Deserved Better For generations, Kenscoff has meant something very different to Haitians. Cool mountain air. Agriculture. Family homes. Beautiful landscapes. A place above the noise and congestion of Port-au-Prince. But Kenscoff has increasingly found itself caught in the same insecurity that has swallowed so many other Haitian communities. This latest massacre is another reminder of how far the violence has spread. More than 2,600 people were forced to flee their homes following the attack, according to information presented to the United Nations Security Council. Some had already been displaced before and are now being forced to run again. Think about what that actually means. Packing whatever you can carry. Taking your children. Leaving your home behind. Not knowing whether it will still be standing when you return. And not knowing where you're supposed to go next. No family should have to live that way. We Cannot Become Used to This This may be one of the most dangerous things happening to us as Haitians. Not only the violence itself. But the possibility of becoming accustomed to hearing about it. Another massacre. Another kidnapping. Another neighborhood attacked. Another family displaced. Another number added to the death toll. Then another headline takes its place. We cannot allow this to become normal. Because behind every headline is a Haitian family whose life has changed forever. Those of us living outside Haiti often experience these moments through our phones. We see the videos. We read the reports. We call relatives to make sure everyone is okay. We share a post. And eventually, life around us continues. For the families directly affected in Kenscoff, life doesn't simply continue. Someone is burying a parent. Someone is looking for a missing relative. Someone is trying to explain something horrific to a child. Someone is wondering whether it is safe to return home. That reality deserves more than a few days of attention. Haiti Is More Than What Is Happening to Haiti We also need to say this clearly. Violence is part of Haiti's reality right now. Violence is not Haiti's identity. Haiti is the farmer waking before sunrise to work the land. Haiti is the mother doing everything possible to give her children a future. Haiti is the student determined to finish school despite circumstances that would make many people give up. Haiti is the merchant opening the doors of a small business every morning without knowing what the day will bring. Haiti is the Haitian abroad working long hours and still finding a way to send something home. Haiti is music. Food. Language. History. Family. Laughter. Creativity. And millions of ordinary people simply trying to live decent lives. The people terrorizing Haitian communities do not get to define an entire country. At the same time, we should stop using the resilience of Haitian people as though it means they can endure anything. There is only so much any population should be expected to survive. Resilience should never become an excuse for abandonment. Kenscoff Cannot Become Another Forgotten Tragedy Soon, another story will dominate the news. That's how the world works. But the families of Kenscoff will still be there. The people who lost their homes will still need somewhere to live. Children who witnessed violence will still carry those memories. Families whose loved ones remain missing or captive will still be waiting. And those who buried someone this week will still wake up tomorrow without them. The United Nations has called for the immediate and unconditional release of those still being held and for accountability for those who perpetrate, finance, arm and enable the violence devastating Haitian communities. Those calls must eventually become more than statements. Haitian lives cannot continue to be reduced to statistics. To Our Haitian Corner Community Today, we're not asking you to discover an event. We're not asking you to promote a business. We're not asking you to swipe, match or network. Today, we're simply asking our community to remember Kenscoff. Remember the 47 people whose lives were taken. Remember the families mourning them. Be thankful that six children and seven women have made it back from captivity. And remember those whose families are still waiting. Whether we're in Haiti, Brooklyn, Miami, Boston, Montreal, Paris, Santo Domingo or anywhere else Haitians call home, there are moments when the distance between us shouldn't matter. This is one of those moments. Kenscoff is hurting. Haiti is hurting. And our thoughts remain with every family carrying a pain no family should have to carry. Nou pap bliye Kenscoff. 🇭🇹
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