Earlier in the day, a visit by Interim Haiti National Police Chief Léon Charles in the city also triggered protests when crowds ran after his motorcade and threw rocks.
Back where the president grew up and where his tomb is being built, the mood was more one of reflection with some budding tension. Residents noted that he is the fifth Haitian president from the northern region of the country to be killed in office, and demanded justice.
“Even if he didn’t do anything for me, I cannot be happy about his death,” said Mimose Metayer, 35, a mother of five who scrapes a living by selling used clothing known as “Pèpè.”
As she spoke, road graders and rollers traveled up and down a dirt road nearby, moving gravel and dirt to even the road in preparation for Friday’s funeral. They were joined by trucks sprinkling a mixture of liquid asphalt and kerosene to smooth out the road.
Dieu Daceus, 38, said no president should have died the way Moïse did. “Where was his security?” he said, echoing a question many Haitians have asked in the two weeks since the president’s killing.
And while he feels sorry for the way he died, Daceus said he has no plans to sanctify him, as some have done in recent days. He’s still looking at his record, and only a president’s death, he said, would bring members of the government and foreign dignitaries to his dirt-poor village.
And for that, he wishes that Moïse had at least helped them better prepare for this moment.
“He could have at least given us a road,” Daceus said.
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