Haiti

Haiti presents itself as a land of contrasts: a nation of 11.4 million inhabitants (2025 estimate) spread across 27 750 km² of mountainous terrain and coastal plains; it occupies the western three-eighths of Hispaniola, lying east of Cuba and Jamaica and south of the Bahamas. Port-au-Prince, its capital and largest city, anchors a nation whose roughly horseshoe shape confers upon it a disproportionately long coastline of 1 771 km. Within this compact expanse, Haiti reveals itself as the Caribbean’s most populous and most rugged country, its identity shaped by relief as much as by history. The following account, drawn exclusively from the official record, pursues an integrated understanding of its landforms, climate, human fabric and ongoing challenges—observed through the lens of a traveller intimate with its every contour.

Rising abruptly from narrow coastal plains, Haiti’s interior is a mosaic of mountain ranges and river valleys. The Massif du Nord, an extension of the Dominican Republic’s Cordillera Central, thrusts northwest from the Guayamouc River, terminating at the peninsula’s tip. Below it lies the Plaine du Nord, a lowland corridor hugging the northern frontier and the Atlantic, where settlement and cultivation concentrate in the shelter of the mountains. Here, the interplay of altitude and exposure defines local microclimates: humidity lingers on windward slopes, while leeward valleys bake under the tropical sun.

Central Haiti unfolds in a succession of plateaus and valleys. The Plateau Central flanks both sides of the Guayamouc River, slanting from southeast to northwest. To its southwest rise the Montagnes Noires, their foothills merging with the northern massif. Between these ranges, the Plaine de l’Artibonite claims pre-eminence: vast enough to sustain the country’s principal agricultural output, it hosts the Riviere l’Artibonite, Haiti’s longest river, which courses from the Dominican Republic into the Golfe de la Gonâve. Midway along its course, Lac de Péligre—Haiti’s second largest lake—appeared only after mid-twentieth-century dam construction reshaped the valley.

To the south, the Xaragua Region encompasses both the Plaine du Cul-de-Sac and the Tiburon Peninsula. The Cul-de-Sac sits as a natural depression, its saline ponds—Trou Caïman and the larger Étang Saumatre—reflecting sky and sun in mirrored stillness. Beyond, the Chaîne de la Selle extends from the Massif de la Selle in the east to the Massif de la Hotte in the west, bridging the island’s southern spine. Each ridge and valley here speaks of tectonic upheavals that have sculpted Haiti’s profile over millennia.

Fringing Haiti’s mainland are scattered isles that carry their own histories. Tortuga, off the northern coast, conjures images of seventeenth-century buccaneers. Gonâve, the largest among them, floats in the Gulf of Gonâve, its rural villages linked to the capital by precarious maritime paths. Île à Vache lies off the southwest, while the Cayemites guard the northern approach to Pestel. Even Navassa Island, forty nautical miles west of Jérémie, figures in Haiti’s territorial sweep, though administered by the United States amid an enduring dispute.

Haiti’s climate adheres to tropical norms, modified by relief. At Port-au-Prince, January temperatures range from 23 °C to 31 °C; in July, minima reach 25 °C, maxima approach 35 °C. Rainfall totals average 1 370 mm annually, concentrated in two wet seasons—April through June and October through November—while the dry season extends from November to January. These rhythms govern the cycles of cultivation, water supply and human endeavour.

Variations in rainfall prove pronounced. Lowland plains and the northern and eastern mountain slopes receive heavier precipitation, fostering pockets of verdure. Yet in other areas, scant rains have become a recurrent crisis, as deforestation accelerates runoff, undermining water retention. Periodic droughts and floods thus alternate with hurricane threats, each extremes’ impact magnified by the stripped hillsides that fail to bind soil and slow torrents.

Seismic jolts underscore Haiti’s vulnerability. Situated near the boundary of the North American and Caribbean tectonic plates, it endures earthquakes and storm surges with scant warning. The 2010 catastrophe and accompanying cholera outbreak demonstrated the fragility of infrastructure and public health in the face of natural forces—reminders that geological context shapes more than topography.

Demographically, Haiti averages some 350 individuals per square kilometre, with density highest in urban centres, coastal plains and accessible valleys. In 2018, its population was estimated at around 10.8 million; by mid-2025, official figures place it at 11.4 million, nearly half under the age of twenty in earlier censuses. The rapid growth strains resources in a nation where infrastructure, education and healthcare have struggled to keep pace.

Economically, Haiti remains among the poorest in the Americas. Per capita GDP stands near US $1 800, while total output approaches US $19.97 billion (2017 figures). The Haitian gourde circulates as currency. Despite a tourism industry in nascent development, persistent corruption, political volatility and deficient services hinder diversification. High unemployment and recurrent emigration underscore the limited domestic opportunities.

The 2010 earthquake precipitated a sharp contraction in trade; purchasing-power-parity GDP fell by 8 percent, from US $12.15 billion to US $11.18 billion. In that year, Haiti ranked 145th of 182 on the United Nations’ Human Development Index, with over 57 percent of the population deprived in at least three core poverty measures. These figures document a nation where growth and well-being lag behind potential, constrained by both structural and cyclical challenges.

Yet the government has identified tourism as a strategic sector. White-sand beaches, dramatic mountains and a uniform warm climate offer attractions that rival those of neighbouring destinations. In 2014, Haiti received 1.25 million visitors—most arriving on cruise ships—and generated roughly US $200 million in tourism receipts. The state’s promotional efforts emphasise natural and cultural heritage, though global perceptions of insecurity and underdevelopment temper inflows.

Investment in hospitality infrastructure followed. That same year, a Best Western Premier opened alongside a five-star Royal Oasis by Occidental in Pétion-Ville, and a four-star Marriott commenced operations in Turgeau, Port-au-Prince. Further developments appeared in Port-au-Prince, Les Cayes, Cap-Haïtien and Jacmel. Yet the sector’s expansion remains modest relative to the country’s scenic potential and lags behind regional peers.

Land transport relies on two principal highways. Route Nationale No. 1 departs Port-au-Prince, threading through Montrouis and Gonaïves before terminating at Cap-Haïtien in the north. Route Nationale No. 2 links the capital with Les Cayes via Léogâne and Petit-Goâve in the south. Nevertheless, road conditions are generally poor, with potholes and erosion rendering many stretches impassable during heavy rains.

Maritime facilities centre on Port-au-Prince’s international port, which—despite cranes, large berths and extensive warehouses—remains underused, perhaps owing to steep fees. Saint-Marc has emerged as the preferred entry point for consumer goods, reflecting the capital’s logistical constraints. Earlier rail networks fell into disrepair, their rehabilitation costs deemed prohibitive. Proposals for a “trans-Hispaniola” railway linking Haiti and the Dominican Republic surfaced in 2018 but await concrete planning.

Air travel pivots on Toussaint L’Ouverture International Airport, located ten kilometres north-northeast of Port-au-Prince in Tabarre. It handles most jetway traffic, alongside Cap-Haïtien International, which serves northern arrivals. Smaller airfields in Jacmel, Jérémie, Les Cayes and Port-de-Paix cater to regional airlines and private craft. In May 2024, after three months of closure due to violence, Toussaint L’Ouverture reopened, poised to alleviate shortages of medicines and basic supplies.

Complementing formal transit, “tap tap” buses thread urban and rural routes. These brightly painted buses or pickup trucks—named for the taps passengers place on the metal body to signal their stop—operate as shared taxis. Privately owned and richly decorated, they follow fixed lines and depart only when full, offering riders the convenience of disembarkation at any point along the way.

Beneath these physical systems lies an ecological crisis. Haiti remains the Caribbean’s most deforested nation. Colonial-era demands for cash-crop monoculture began the process; nineteenth-century indemnities to France aggravated it, prompting widespread woodcutting. Today, charcoal production for cooking persists as a primary driver of forest loss. The result is denuded mountainsides that amplify storm runoff, heightening the risk of floods, landslides and mudflows.

Haiti’s landscape thus embodies both resilience and fragility. Its peaks and plains support agricultural pursuits and cultural life, even as they expose vulnerabilities to climate, geology and human activity. To traverse this nation is to witness the interplay of land and livelihood, of historical legacies and natural imperatives. In these contours, Haiti’s story endures—written in stone, soil and sea.