A Final Dash for Dignity

Cap-Haïtien, Haiti. August 28, 2025. 11:05 AM.

The sun at the Cap-Haïtien airport doesn’t shine; it hammers. The air is thick and heavy, vibrating with the roar of a lone charter plane’s engines—a sound that is both a promise and a taunt.

This is the last chance. The final, desperate lifeline thrown from Barbados itself. While the CARIFESTA fair has been pulsing with life for days, the Haitian artisans, the very soul of the Caribbean, have been glaringly absent. But not by their choice.

And now, in a frantic ballet under the brutal heat, the final act of this saga of neglect is playing out.

Two women are at the heart of the storm. Régine Fabius and Sandra Russo of the CMAH. Their faces, sheened with a mixture of sweat and determination, are set in masks of unwavering resolve. The word “fight” is too small for what they are doing. They are commanding. They are orchestrating.

Around them, 26 boxes—26 caskets of dreams that had been held hostage for a week—are finally being loaded. Each box is more than wood and nails; it is the weight of a nation’s creativity, the tangible hope of artisans who invested their last gourde into this chance. These boxes contain carved mahogany, vibrant paintings, intricate beadwork, and forged steel—pieces of Haitian soul that a government ministry almost locked away in a dark storage room forever.

The Barbadian pilot checks his watch, the gesture dripping with impatience. The ground crew moves, but not with the urgency this moment demands. Every second is a grain of sand falling through the hourglass, every moment of delay another potential excuse for the plane to leave without its precious cargo.

But Régine and Sandra will not yield.

Régine, her voice cutting through the engine’s whine, directs the movers with the precision of a general. "Plus vite! Plus vite! That one next! Carefully!" She is a force of nature, her energy defying the exhausting week of bureaucratic battles that led to this very moment.

Sandra is everywhere at once. On the phone, her tone sharp and insistent, likely dealing with one last-minute, man-made obstacle. Then, she is beside the truck, personally checking the manifest, ensuring not a single vase, not one painting, is left behind. Her courage is a quiet, steely thing, a deep well of strength drawn from the injustice done to her people.

They are not just loading boxes. They are reclaiming dignity. They are snatching victory from the jaws of a humiliating defeat orchestrated by their own leaders.

It is a race against a clock that was never on their side, a mad dash to salvage whatever days are left in the festival. To finally plant the Haitian flag on the cultural map of the Caribbean and shout, "We are here! Despite everything, we are still here!"

The last box crosses the threshold into the cargo hold. The doors clang shut. A final, visceral sound of triumph.

On the tarmac, Régine and Sandra share a look. It is not a look of celebration, not yet. It is a look of exhausted, fierce, and unbreakable solidarity. They have fought the indifference of the powerful and, for today, they have won.

Cap-Haïtien, Haiti. August 28, 2025. 1:44 PM Still no confirmation of takeoff!

Editor’s note: They made it to CARIFESTA XV!