Gangs Control Saut-d’Eau, Pilgrims Seek Refuge in Port-au-Prince \ Newslooks \ Washington DC \ Mary Sidiqi \ Evening Edition \ Gang control of Saut‑d’Eau has forced thousands of Haitian pilgrims to relocate their annual pilgrimage honoring Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel and Vodou goddess Erzulie to Port‑au‑Prince. Fearing violence, worshippers gathered at a packed church to seek spiritual solace amid widespread gang-led terror. Devotees prayed for safety, unity, and liberation from gang rule.
Quick Looks
- Mass pilgrimage relocated from Saut‑d’Eau to Port‑au‑Prince
- Gang violence controls waterfall site, halting sacred rituals
- Thousands gather at a small church to honor Erzulie and Virgin Mary
- Attendees seek protection amid escalating kidnappings, rape, terror
- Gangs filmed in Saut‑d’Eau church, distributing money
- Canaan gang leader Jeff Larose, Mawozo’s Lanmo Sanjou present
- “Barbecue,” leader of gang federation Viv Ansanm, addresses pilgrims
- Devotees pray for deliverance from violence, safe homes
- Over 85% of Port‑au‑Prince under gang control
- Annual pilgrimage disrupted, but communal faith endures
Deep Look
Faith Amid Fire: Pilgrimage Shifts from Sacred Waterfall to Gang-Dominated Ruins
Once a place of spiritual renewal, the 100-foot cascading waterfall in Saut‑d’Eau — symbolizing the fusion of Christian and Vodou traditions — remained eerily silent on Wednesday. Instead of throngs splashing under sacred water and rubbing skin with aromatic foliage, a sea of devout Haitians climbed a steep hill in Port-au-Prince to honor the Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel and Erzulie, a revered Vodou deity, in a humble church bustling with worshippers.
The shift is a stark reminder of how organized criminal gangs have reshaped Haiti’s social and religious landscape. In March, the Canaan gang, under a leader known as “Jeff”, attacked Saut-d’Eau’s town center. Though briefly repelled, they returned in force in early April with over 500 armed fighters, forcing residents to flee — and taking control of the site of the yearly pilgrimage. According to the UN Human Rights Office, this takeover abruptly ended access to the waterfall revered by generations of believers.
This takeover not only closed a religious landmark but eroded a centuries-old cultural tradition tied to fusion spirituality, where Vodou is woven into Catholic worship. Now, pilgrims like Ti‑Marck Ladouce are left fasting the traditional cleanse: “That water is so fresh it washes off all evil,” he lamented. Instead, he joined a substitute congregation in Port-au-Prince, praying for deliverance from a rampant wave of kidnappings, rapes, and murders that has claimed more than 4,864 lives in eight months — with over 1.3 million people displaced by gang violence.
Inside the small church overflowing with hopeful faces, believers whispered rosaries and lit candles. Daniel Jean‑Marcel, his eyes closed and arms open to the ceiling, offered thanks for life itself. “There is nowhere for us to go,” he said, recognizing that, despite the upheaval, many Haitians cling to these hillsides, refusing to leave their homeland even as others seek escape abroad — including more than 100 Haitians deported by U.S. officials on the same day.
Among the congregation was 87-year-old Jacques Plédé, dressed in white as is tradition. He had helped build the church but never imagined it replacing Saut-d’Eau’s waterfall. “It’s disgraceful,” he said. “They have taken one of the nicest places of prayer.”
Gang Leaders at the Altar
In a disturbing turn, a video emerged showing Jeff Larose, Lanmo Sanjou (leader of the Mawozo gang), and Jimmy “Barbecue” Chérizier (the figurehead of the Viv Ansanm coalition) standing inside the shrine and distributing cash to parishioners. Addressing the crowd, Barbecue said, “We are at the foot of our mother now.” Lanmo Sanjou echoed a promise that the Virgin Mary would bless them with “more miracles.”
Their appearance and donations signal gangs are not just violent overseers, but also power brokers seeking legitimacy — leveraging cultural influence and religious symbolism to reinforce their territorial dominance. In doing so, they co-opt places of worship and traditional celebrations into their power structures, twisting acts of faith into tools of control.
Prayer for Protection Amid Gang-Torn Lives
Outside, pilgrims like Hugens Jean reflected on the ritual sanctity now lost. Once cleansing themselves beneath the waterfall, today’s pilgrims wash only with prayer for “deliverance for my family and for the country that’s in the hands of gangs,” he said, wearied by constant fear of death.
Vociferous cries for help filled the room. Joane Durosier, a Vodou priestess or “mambo,” clad in white, held a rosary: “A lot of people are suffering,” she said. “In a country like Haiti, everybody needs protection.”
The scene offers a stark counterpoint to the gangs’ theatrical presence. For Haitian citizens, religion remains a critical refuge—a bastion of hope and shared purpose, even beneath the shadow of militia rule.
Cultural Identity withstood by Faith
Saut-d’Eau has long symbolized Haiti’s syncretic identity: a land of resilience where Catholic and Vodou traditions interlace. Despite gang control, displaced communities carried that hybrid faith uphill, determined to preserve what was taken from them — a reflection of a national struggle for dignity, autonomy, and spiritual agency.
“Not going to Saut-d’Eau is terrible,” said Ladouce. But he added that this substituted pilgrimage shows Haitians have something intact gang violence cannot seize: a shared sense of spiritual identity and resolve.
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