PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti — As the sun sets, a burly man holds a megaphone and shouts as a curious crowd gathers around him. Next to him is a small cardboard box containing several bills worth 10 Haitian gourdes (about 7 U.S. cents).
“Everyone, give everything you have!” the man shouted, grabbing the arms and hands of people entering areas of the capital Port-au-Prince that are targeted by gangs.
The community recently voted to purchase and install metal barricades themselves to protect residents from the relentless violence that left more than 2,500 people dead and injured in Haiti between January and March.
“Every day I wake up and find bodies,” said Noune Karme Manune, an immigration officer.
Life in Port-au-Prince has become a game of survival, pushing Haitians to new limits as they struggle to stay safe and survive as gangs overwhelm the police and the government remains largely absent. . Some places have set up metal barricades. Some people hit the gas pedal harder when driving near gang-controlled areas. The few who can afford it have stockpiled water, food, money and medicine, but supplies have dwindled since major international airports closed in early March. The country's largest port is largely paralyzed by marauding gangs.
“People living in the capital are trapped and have nowhere to go,” Philippe Blanchet, director of the International Organization for Migration in Haiti, said in a recent statement. “The capital is surrounded by armed groups and in danger. It is a city under siege.”
Telephone alerts frequently ring with warnings of shootings, kidnappings and fatal shootings, and some supermarkets have armed guards so numerous that they can be mistaken for small police stations.
Mass attacks used to only occur in specific areas, but now they can occur anywhere at any time. Staying home does not guarantee safety. A man who was playing with his daughter at home was shot in the back by a stray bullet. Others were also killed.
Schools and gas stations are closed, and fuel is selling for $9 a gallon on the black market, about three times the official price. Banks are barring customers from withdrawing more than $100 a day, and checks that previously took three days to clear now take more than a month to clear. Police officers have to wait weeks before being paid.
“Everyone is under stress,” says musician Isidore Gedeon, 38. “After the jailbreak, people no longer trust anyone. The state has no control.”
Gangsters, who control an estimated 80% of Port-au-Prince, launched a coordinated attack on the province's critical infrastructure on February 29th. They torched police stations, shot up airports, and stormed Haiti's two largest prisons, freeing more than 4,000 prisoners.
At the time, Prime Minister Ariel Henry was visiting Kenya to promote the UN-backed police deployment. Prime Minister Henry remains barred from Haiti, and an interim presidential council tasked with selecting the next prime minister and cabinet could be sworn in as early as this week. Mr Henry promised he would step down once a new leader was installed.
Few believe this is the end of the crisis. Gangs are not the only ones committing violence. Haitians have embraced a vigilante movement known as Bouwa Kale, which has killed hundreds of gang members and their alleged associates.
“There are some communities that you can't go to because everyone is afraid of everyone,” Gedeon said. “You can be innocent and still end up dead.”
More than 95,000 people fled Port-au-Prince in one month alone as gangs attacked communities, torching homes and killing people in areas controlled by rivals.
People fleeing by bus to Haiti's southern and northern regions risk being gang-raped and murdered as they pass through gang-controlled areas where armed groups have opened fire.
According to IOM, the violence in the capital has left around 160,000 people homeless.
“This place is hell,” said producer and cameraman Nelson Langlois.
Langlois, his wife and their three children spent two nights lying on the roof of their home as the gang attacked their neighborhood.
“We kept checking again and again to see when we could escape,” he recalled.
Forced to separate due to lack of shelter, Langlois lives in a Voodoo temple, while his wife and children are in another part of Port-au-Prince.
Like most people in the city, Langlois usually stays indoors. Gone are the days of playing pick-up soccer games on dusty roads and drinking prestige beers at bars playing hip-hop, reggae and African music.
“This is an open-air prison,” Langlois said.
The violence has also forced the closure of businesses, government offices and schools, leaving many Haitians unemployed.
Manune, a government immigration officer, said he has been selling treated water to make money because he has no work due to the backlog of deportations.
Meanwhile, Gedeon said he no longer plays drums for a living, noting bars and other venues are closing. He sold small plastic bags of water on the street and became a handyman, installing fans and repairing appliances.
Even students are joining the workforce as the crisis deepens poverty across Haiti.
Sally, a 10th grade student whose school closed about two months ago, was standing on a street corner in Petion Ville, selling petrol she bought on the black market.
“We have to be careful,” said Sally, who asked that her last name be withheld for her safety. “It's safer in the morning.”
He sells about 5 gallons a week, making about $40 for his family, but he can't afford to join his classmates who are learning remotely.
“Online classes are for people who are richer and have more money than me,” Sally said.
The European Union last week announced the opening of a humanitarian air bridge from the Central American country of Panama to Haiti. Five planes landed in the northern city of Cap-Haitien, home to Haiti's only functioning airport, carrying 62 tons of medicine, water, emergency evacuation equipment and other essential supplies.
But there is no guarantee that critical items will reach those who need them most. Many Haitians are still confined to their homes, unable to buy or find food as bullets fly.
Aid groups say nearly 2 million Haitians are at risk of starvation, more than 600,000 of whom are children.
Despite this, people are finding ways to survive.
Back in the neighborhood where residents are setting up metal barricades, one man cuts the metal and sparks fly as another man shovels in and mixes cement. They are on track and expect the project to be completed soon.
Others remain skeptical, citing reports of gangs jumping into loaders and other heavy equipment and destroying police stations and, more recently, metal barricades.