For Haiti, the Paris Olympics is about more than just winning gold

For the seven athletes competing for Haiti, participating in the Paris Games has always been about more than just winning gold

As he coasted along Paris’ Seine River during the Olympic opening ceremony, one word came to Haitian swimmer Alexandre Grand’Pierre’s mind.

“Iconic.”

For the seven athletes competing for Haiti, participating in the Paris Games has always been about more than just winning gold. For athletes like Grand’Pierre, the third of his siblings to compete for Haiti in the Olympics, it's about sending a message of hope to a nation reeling from gang violence and political turmoil.

“It’s showing that we are still capable of being on a world stage and being a positive image in spite of all the turmoil and instability that’s going on, to give a beacon of hope to the younger generations, especially young athletes, that they can get to the Olympics as well,” Grand’Pierre, 21, told The Associated Press.

“Representing the country has always been bigger than me,” he added.

The symbol of pride for many in Haiti, the athletes hope to change the narrative around the Caribbean country, long portrayed as a victim. It’s also in part about reclaiming their history from France, the former colonizer that bankrupted Haiti for more than a century.

But the path to France hasn’t been easy.

Haiti is at an inflection point. Following the 2021 assassination of President Jovenel Moïse, a toxic slate of gangs seized control of much of the nation. As daily life in the capital, Port-au-Prince, has come to a halt, so too have sports.

Haiti's Olympic team came together through sheer force of will, said Fritz-Gérald Fong, head of the Haitian Olympic delegation.

Like much of Port-au-Prince, gangs have overtaken the area around Olympic training facilities. Lower-level athletes in the country have been killed, Fong said. Haiti's national Olympic committee said it has lost 80% of the coaches they’ve trained to ongoing emigration.

“This is a message for Haitian people, for the nation and for the world. Giving up was not an option,” said Fong. “People have no hope. And for months they’ve been waving the flag and saying, ‘Let’s go Haiti.’ We were making some hope for those people.”

Government collapse meant that up until the Games, the team had no money to fund athletes. Just before the Olympics, Fong said, the Haitian government finally released $74,600 — a fraction of their $405,000 budget.

If that wasn’t enough, earlier this year, the country was once again thrown under siege by gangs. Flights were blocked out of Haiti, inhibiting travel to Olympic qualifiers, Fong said.

So, similar to other crisis-stricken national Olympic committees like the Palestinian and Ukrainian teams, Haiti's relied entirely on athletes living abroad — like Grand’Pierre.

Born in Canada and training in the United States, Grand’Pierre grew up speaking Haitian Creole and eating Haitian dishes as his parents made an effort to preserve their culture, visiting before Haiti began to spiral.

“Growing up in the United States, it’s very easy to lose that side of yourself. But they made sure we grew up and stayed connected,” he said. Today, it’s classic Haitian Creole music bumping in Grand’Pierre’s ears before he rockets into the pool.

He’s joined in Paris by six other athletes competing in track, gymnastics, judo, boxing and swimming. While none has medaled, 25-year-old Christopher Borzor was among those to make it to the second round of the men's 100-meter sprint.

“Fund-wise, we don’t have a lot of money for us to compete, travel and get put in hotels. Most of the money has come out of my pocket, flying around trying to compete for Haiti,” said Borzor, who left Haiti at the age of 6. “But I told myself one day I would get here.”

For some, Haiti's presence in France is a political point.

A former French colony, Haiti became the first to successfully gain independence through a slave revolt, in 1804. France demanded Haiti pay it back for lost income of slavers — what became a financially crippling $21 billion sum paid, The New York Times calculated. One Parisian bank, Crédit Industriel et Commercial, guzzled millions from Haiti — as it helped finance the Eiffel Tower.

That’s why for Haitian-Italian designer Stella Jean, who created the team’s vibrant ceremonial uniforms, the athletes’ entrance into the Games was so meaningful — floating down the Seine in the shadow of that same tower.

It was only maybe nine seconds, Jean recalled the next morning, during which Haiti held the world’s attention as TV cameras turned to its boat.

“But in these nine seconds I think Haiti made history — even more than that, it reverted the tides of history,” said Jean. These “young people paraded under the Eiffel Tower — the very Eiffel Tower that Haiti contributed to pay for.”

When Jean got the call to design Haiti’s uniforms, she knew the job had little to do with fashion — and everything to do with history and identity. Being “pretty” was not the goal; it was to tell a story, with trousers and skirts patterned with Haitian artist Philippe Dodard's creations, bold prints reminiscent of those seen in the Caribbean nation.

“It was a kind of counter-colonization,” Jean said. “But we did it with joy.”

For others, though, like Marjorie Chouloute, mother of 14-year-old swimmer Mayah Chouloute, it's more about “changing the narrative” to look toward the future.

“On French TV, during the opening ceremony, all they could talk about when our boat was passing by was how downtrodden we are. … It’s not untrue,” she said. “But Haiti is more than its problems.”

In recent months, Haiti has chosen a new prime minister and welcomed a United Nations-backed mission to beat back the gangs. As the country takes small steps toward stability, the Olympic team has left many Haitians in and out of the nation welling with pride. Athletes said family group messages have bustled with news of the Olympians being talked about on TV and radio.

Back in Port-au-Prince, 24-year-old Marc Andre is among those rooting for them, despite the time difference and electric blackouts. The team, he said, has given him hope.

“Haiti has a lot of young, talented kids, but we don't have the opportunity ... due to lack of resources,” he said. Still, he said, “I would love to see them living in Haiti, training in Haiti. ... It would be for me, more authentic.”

Fong also expressed sadness over the lack of Olympians living in Haiti, but said the team was the first step in a long road. He doesn't see organized athletics coming back to Haiti for at least three years.

In the meantime, Jowee Omicil, a Haitian-Canadian musician, beamed at Grand’Pierre, Chouloute, their coach and families as they walked out of the Olympic swimming venue Saturday, after Chouloute's first race. Cloaked in red and blue flags, they spoke in a mix of French, Creole and English.

“Bless you. I was looking for my flag,” Omicil said, voice cracking. “This is history.”

Wearing a vintage Haiti shirt and a necklace in the shape of the country, Omicil said he had flown from Montreal to see the team compete.

“I want you guys to know people are watching, and I am one of them and there are thousands behind me,” he told them. “People are so proud of you guys.”

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Associated Press journalists Jocelyn Noveck in Paris and Evens Sanon in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, contributed to this report.

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For more coverage of the Paris Olympics, visit https://apnews.com/hub/2024-paris-olympic-games.