Amy Miller lives in South Berwick and travels regularly with the organization Life and Hope Haiti to the Eben Ezer School in Milot, Haiti. The school was started by a Haitian-American woman from Milot and is largely supported by donors in southern Maine and Seacoast New Hampshire.

The government told me not to go to Haiti. They said they would not help me if I got in trouble. I went anyway, but for just a few days in March, staying in a protected environment far from the riskiest spots in the south. 

If a Haitian-American wants to visit relatives there, they too face the reality that the U.S. State Department says don’t go, we won’t help you if you get kidnapped or robbed or anything else.

The U.S. government, my government and that of some 600,000 Haitian-born residents who became U.S. citizens, has given this warning in no uncertain terms. The State Department’s “no travel” edict explicitly states that in Haiti “violent crime is rampant,” “kidnapping in widespread” and “protests, demonstrations and roadblocks are common.”

At the same time, a ruling by the Supreme Court last week determined that 330,000 Haitians who were given refuge here — with the sponsorship of a U.S. citizen — should go back. Six justices allowed the administration’s position to stand that the country was safe enough to send Haitian Temporary Protected Status (TPS) holders home, a position that flies in direct contrast to U.S. State Department warnings.

The tragic reality of life in Haiti is what prompted the federal administration in 2010, after an earthquake that was widely considered the worst natural disaster facing a single country in the 21st century, to offer Temporary Protected Status to Haitians. It was not an open invitation but rather an offer open to Haitians who had sponsors in the States who would guarantee to financially cover them if they could not support themselves.

I can tell you from experience, Haitians don’t need to be told how dangerous it is to travel to the capital city of Port-au-Prince. 

Two years ago, Haiti suffered an earthquake located about 100 miles west of Port-au-Prince. A team of Haitian-American medical professionals wanted to go help, and Life and Hope, an organization I am connected to, arranged the transportation. The plan had them landing in Port-au-Prince and quickly catching a puddle jumper to the site of the disaster. 

When the scheduled plane out of the gang-controlled city was delayed, family members up north were frantic, afraid for their loved ones stranded overnight in the capital.

Around that time, I applied to get TPS for several Haitians but demand far exceeded the numbers allowed in. None of the people I tried to sponsor got in. 

On the other hand, a friend in western Massachusetts managed to bring in a couple with two young children. They have rented an apartment, put their children in school here and, like 80% of Haitians in the program, found gainful employment. They have learned English and become productive members of their community. 

If the TPS program ends, it’s unclear where they will go. The father doesn’t want to stay here illegally, but going back to Haiti means returning to the place where he sold Chiclets on the street to get by, a place his children have never known.

This man, like 330,000 other Haitians, will be forced to make choices that no human should ever have to make. The U.S. Senate is considering a bill that would extend the protected status for three more years. These 100 men and women have a chance to make policy that costs little but shows heart. The rest of us have a chance to let them know: we want them to pass S.4814.