Hinche
Birthplace of Charlemagne Péralte, whose 1919 death photograph became a martyrdom icon. Central Plateau capital—traditional granary, maroon refugium—now Haiti's last buffer as 51,000+ flee gang violence from the lowlands.
On November 1, 1919, US Marines killed Charlemagne Péralte and strapped his corpse to a door. The photograph they distributed—meant to terrorize—resembled a crucifixion. It made him Haiti's most famous martyr. Péralte was born here, in Hinche, capital of the Central Plateau, thirty kilometers from the Dominican border.
The Spanish built a cathedral here around 1503, ordered by Governor Nicolás de Ovando. The settlement took its name from the Taíno—Hincha—who had farmed cassava and beans on this plateau for centuries. By 1704, Canary Islands settlers had formalized the town. The Central Plateau offered what the coasts didn't: distance. Distance from slave-catchers, from sugar plantations, from colonial administrators. The mountains became a refugium where escaped people survived because the terrain made pursuit unprofitable. The pattern predates Haiti itself.
That refugia dynamic shaped everything that followed. Hinche's highland territory produced food for Port-au-Prince—rice, beans, livestock trucked to the capital every Sunday—while remaining insulated from coastal chaos. The 1956 Péligre Dam created Lake Péligre twenty kilometers west, controlling water flow to the Artibonite Valley rice fields downstream. Hinche sits at the source; Port-au-Prince sits at the sink. For decades, agricultural surplus flowed downhill to the capital.
Péralte's 1918-1919 rebellion drew from this landscape. By mid-1919, his 5,000 Cacos operated from highland bases that Marines couldn't profitably assault. The guerrilla campaign killed close to 1,000 Haitian fighters that year—and ended only when Sergeant Herman Hanneken infiltrated Péralte's camp in blackface and shot him twice in the chest. The Marines received Medals of Honor. Péralte's face went on Haitian currency. The photograph of his body—distributed from planes, tacked to walls—became an icon of resistance rather than a warning.
Today Hinche's 130,000 residents occupy the same refugium their ancestors did. By March 2025, gang violence spread into Centre Department. Mirebalais and Saut d'Eau fell to Viv Ansanm cells in April. Over 51,000 people displaced, including 27,000 children. Roads to Port-au-Prince became impassable. The granary cannot reach its market—and now the source-sink dynamic has reversed. Refugees flow uphill toward Hinche, toward the highlands, toward the last territory gangs haven't claimed.
Gopher tortoises dig burrows that shelter 350 other species in fire-prone Florida forests. But even those refugia can be overwhelmed when fire sweeps the whole landscape. Hinche has survived as Haiti's highland refugium for five centuries—from maroon territory to Caco headquarters to the last stable zone in a collapsing state. Cap-Haïtien plays the same role in the north, absorbing international flights when Port-au-Prince's airport closed. The question is how long the refugia can hold when everyone fleeing the lowlands seeks the same shelter.