J.J. was at home with her five children when their lives were turned upside down. Following explosions and loud crashes, Savane Pistache, their neighborhood, became the target of armed clashes. Within minutes, with only a few belongings under her arm, her family fled the house. Her home was burned, her business looted, and there was nothing left. Returning was not an option. What followed were hours of wandering through Port-au-Prince.
Separated from her husband, J.J. had to deal with this sudden upheaval alone. She and her five children eventually found refuge at the Lycée Marie-Jeanne, one of the many sites sheltering displaced people in Port-au-Prince. This trauma left J.J. in a state of silent despair.
After several weeks at a displacement site, N.P. tried to return to her neighborhood to retrieve some personal belongings. There, she was surrounded, beaten, and raped by armed individuals.
S.D., 18, whose youth was stolen the day her father was killed before her eyes. “Since then, life has had no meaning for me. I have no future.“
Individual accounts of horror are increasingly becoming the sad norm of Haiti‘s narrative.
A Mental Health Crisis in Haiti
Since 2024, the intensification of violence during armed clashes, political instability, and the economic crisis have plunged the country into a “severe mental health crisis,” according to a study published in September 2024. “These factors were identified as the primary source of chronic distress, contributing to widespread mental health issues, adverse physical symptoms, and disruption in daily life,” explains the study.
There are many traumas: post-traumatic stress, chronic stress, sleep disorders, psychoses, psychosomatic pain, irritability, cognitive disorders, suicidal thoughts and attempts. “Recently, I was observing a man during a consultation with a nurse, his neck seemed very stiff. I was told that he had tried to end his life. Everything that once defined his life had been taken away from him: his house, his business… For him, life has lost all meaning,” explains Claire, a psychologist with ALIMA in Haiti. Such accounts reveal profound suffering, often invisible but omnipresent.
In this context, ALIMA has launched an initiative to provide free mental health care for internally displaced people. This program offers a space for listening and psychological support within shelter sites, for those who have lost everything, even the will to speak.
Psychological Disorders, a Burden Hard to Describe
Trauma is deep, but often unspoken. “I thought I was crazy. I was afraid to talk or ask for help,” recalls J.J. Like many, she believed that seeking support from a psychologist was a sign of madness. She was ashamed and afraid of being judged. “I thought people who went to a psychologist were crazy, with no rights, no self-worth, and no one to listen to them.“
In Haitian society, talking about mental health and psychological suffering remains difficult. Today, ALIMA’s five psychologists and three mental health workers are fully integrated into mobile clinics, providing daily care in IDP sites. This approach is helping to break down barriers around mental health and is contributing to its destigmatization.
And it is working. Claire recalls that, when ALIMA first began mental health interventions at IDP sites in 2024, talking about mental health support was very difficult. But the situation has now evolved. “Now, our services have become essential. People seek us out and show that we matter to them.”
“I now see mental health differently,” explains J.J. “I can talk to other people facing the same challenges as me, and above all, I learned that even if we smile every day, we need to see a psychologist to talk about experiences we keep hidden.”
ALIMA’s psychologist has also noticed another significant change: “Through ongoing awareness efforts, we now see more men than women in individual consultations,” notes the health professional. Previously, most patients were women and girls.
Thanks to ALIMA’s Care, Resilience has been Restored
ALIMA’s activities combine individual consultations, psychoeducation and psychostimulation sessions, as well as awareness-raising on issues such as sexual violence, harassment, post-traumatic stress, depression, etc.
Where fear has sown chaos, listening restores a sense of humanity. One session after another, words come back, and shame fades. Behind this silent suffering, stories of resilience emerge.
J.J. is now doing better. She hasn’t forgotten her experiences, of course, but she can talk about them. Better still, she supports other displaced people who are living in silence, a hardship she herself suffered.
S.D. is starting to rebuild her self-confidence: “I see life differently. I no longer have negative thoughts. I am grateful to the ALIMA team because, thanks to them, I am beginning to regain confidence.”
And N.P. started dreaming again: “Today, I have positive thoughts. I am confident that one day, the light will appear at the end of the tunnel. I hope to rent a house and run my own business.”
In 2025, ALIMA provided listening sessions and support to nearly 6,000 displaced people through individual or group consultations. Over 80,0000 people have been reached through awareness-raising on mental health and the services provided by ALIMA.
This project is made possible thanks to humanitarian funding from the European Union (ECHO) and the Crisis and Support Centre (CDCS).
Cover photo: Port-au-Prince, 2024 © Victor Raison / ALIMA
