Marie Etyse left two of her children behind.
She’s 29, a widow and has five kids. She has lived in a town in the Dominican Republic for the past nine years.
Like many Haitian migrants, she faces deportation after a law stripped her of her citizenship. Formal deportation could start as early as Aug. 1, so many of these people have already fled to settlement camps in Haiti, which shares the island of Hispaniola with the DR.
Etyse tried to get the required papers to stay in the country.
“All the people in the process kept asking for money,” she says. “They ask for money for the papers, and then the papers are no good.”
So three months ago, she went to live in a camp at Tete de l’Eau.
And she said goodbye to her two young kids — temporarily, she hopes. They’re staying with the family of her deceased husband.
“I couldn’t travel back with all of them,” she says.
Jean Louis Andres walks in the river that separates Haiti and the Dominican Republic.
Peter Granitz for NPR
At Tete de l’Eau, she stands on the bank of a bone-dry riverbed. It hasn’t rained in 10 months. That rocky river bottom is the international border. And people walk back and forth. It’s one of the countless unofficial crossings along the 230-mile line that separates Haiti and the Dominican Republic. via: NPR