
CORAIL-CESSELESSE, Haiti — The sun was beating down on the rocky cactus plain when men with machetes came for Menmen Villase, nine months pregnant, shoved her onto her bulging stomach and sliced up the plastic tarp that sheltered her and her four children.
The family was one of thousands of earthquake homeless who had come to this Manhattan-size stretch of sugarcane land between the sea and mountains north of Port-au-Prince, seeking refuge from overflowing camps in the city. But this real estate is earmarked for building a new Haiti.
Villase had walked into one of the fights over land, rooted in Haiti’s history of slavery, occupation and upheaval, that have served to slow recovery to a near-standstill in the six months since an earthquake leveled much of the capital and killed as many as 300,000 people.
The government, already weak before the magnitude-7 quake and still hobbled by its aftermath, is trying to build anew in places like Corail-Cesselesse, a nearly empty swath of land that begins about 9 miles north of the capital. But the effort is paralyzed by disorganization, bitter rivalries and private deals being struck behind its back.
Multiple families claim title to almost every scrap of land. Wealthy landowners vow the “new Haiti” will become yet another slum unless the government rebuilds on their terms.
Caught in the middle are the homeless, looking to grab a patch of ground from the thugs hired to keep them away. Even facing machetes, Villase had to be dragged from her shelter.
“I didn’t want them to take the tent away,” she said. “They said, ‘We don’t care. We can rip it up while you’re inside.’ “
Limited progress made
The number of people in relief camps has doubled to 1.6 million, while the amount of transitional housing is minuscule.
Most of the $3.1 billion pledged for humanitarian aid has paid for field hospitals, plastic tarps, bandages and food, plus salaries, transportation and upkeep of relief workers. About $1.3 billion went through U.S. relief groups. Hundreds of millions have yet to be spent.
Aid workers say the money has helped prevent epidemics, floods and political violence while distributing food and other essentials. Food markets are back to normal, and the foreign doctors and equipment that flowed in have left medical care — while deeply flawed — better than it was before the quake.
But very little long-term progress has been made. Reconstruction remains a dream.
Everyone bemoans the lack of progress. Haitian Prime Minister Jean-Max Bellerive says the government needs to proceed with caution so it doesn’t replicate the pre-quake slums.
Disputed land
A few miles from Haiti’s biggest ports and past its northernmost slums, Corail-Cesselesse is a blank canvas. Garment factories, homes, stores and restaurants are planned.
Houses would be built for 300,000 people — transitional shelters at first, but each with a permanent facade and capable of expanding. There would be jobs and services that most of the rest of the city lacks.
But the squatters continue to pour in. Landowner Jean-Claude Theodore calls them invaders.
But the squatters believe they have government behind them. “The state has declared it is public land,” said Daniel Paul, a member of a squatters committee. “Nobody can go above the state.”
It didn’t work that way for Villase. Stripped of tarp and land, she and the children fled to a crumbling concrete cabin in a remote corner of Corail.
“I’d love to live under a plastic sheet,” she said, “but I can’t afford it.”
A few days after being driven from her makeshift home, she lay alone on the cabin floor and gave birth to her fifth child.



