Why We Choose Haitian-Made
How one decision to buy school shoes locally reflects the values of sustainability and dignity.
Every August, as we prepare for the start of a new school year, our long to-do list looks familiar: backpacks, uniforms, pencils, notebooks, and shoes.
Shoes matter more than most people realise. For our students on La Gonâve, a sturdy pair means safety on rocky roads, comfort in the classroom, and the pride of looking neat and ready to learn.
For many years, those shoes came from donations or second-hand shipments. Friends in the United States would collect children’s shoes and send them to us, or I would bring them in my suitcases each summer. It worked for a while. But as travel to Haiti became more dangerous, that simple task grew harder and riskier.
Last year, the question finally came to a head: How do we keep providing what our students need when we can no longer bring it ourselves?
A Haitian Solution
While thinking through the logistics of getting supplies from the Dominican Republic to La Gonâve, I began looking for alternatives that didn’t depend on imports. That’s when I found a Haitian-owned, fair-trade company in Port-au-Prince that makes school shoes, handbags, and backpacks from leather.
The company employs Haitian artisans, pays fair wages, and produces everything locally—from cutting the leather to hand-stitching each sole. Their shop is small but organised, and their commitment to quality is remarkable. They also make footwear for other schools across the country, so they understood exactly what we needed.
When I contacted them, they said, “We can make every pair to order—just send us the sizes.”
Our teachers in La Gonâve measured every child’s feet, wrote the sizes on a spreadsheet, and sent the list to Port-au-Prince. A few weeks later, our first batch of custom-made Haitian school shoes was ready.
It was such a simple decision—one that immediately felt right. We could spend the same money, or sometimes less, while supporting jobs and craftsmanship within Haiti itself.
More Than a Pair of Shoes
Buying locally does far more than solve a logistics problem. It keeps income in the country. It tells Haitian artisans that their work has value and that their skills matter.
When we place an order, the ripple effect spreads quickly:
Workers at the shoe company earn reliable wages.
Local leather suppliers sell more material.
Families of the artisans have steady income for food and school fees.
These are small shifts, but they matter deeply. Every time we invest locally, we reduce dependency on imports and increase self-reliance. It’s a way of saying, “We believe in what Haiti can make.”
At Greater Good Haiti, that belief is central to our mission. Education is about empowerment, and empowerment starts with opportunity. Whether it’s teaching a child to read or giving a craftsman a fair order for shoes, the principle is the same: change grows from within.
I often tell our teachers, “We’re not just buying shoes—we’re investing in Haitian talent.”
The Journey Isn’t Easy
Of course, nothing in Haiti moves in a straight line.
Once the shoes were finished, they had to reach our school on La Gonâve—and that is no small feat. The highway from Port-au-Prince to the ferry port at Carriès is controlled in parts by gangs who demand payment from travellers and seize goods that can be resold. Shoes, especially new ones, are valuable on the open market.
So the company packed the pairs carefully and stored them in their shop, waiting for news that the roads were clear. For weeks, they stayed there while we coordinated with the same trusted network that helps us move other school supplies—the couriers who cross from the Dominican Republic, the drivers who know which routes are safest, and the ferry operators who risk the channel between the mainland and La Gonâve.
We watched fuel prices rise, sometimes doubling overnight. Inflation in Haiti is now around 30 percent, which means every journey costs more, and every delay stretches our resources. But the team refused to give up. They said, “When it’s safe, we’ll move them.”
For now, the shoes are still waiting for their passage, packed in boxes, ready to travel the last leg of their journey. It can be frustrating, but it’s also a reminder of the courage and patience required to keep something as simple as a school functioning in today’s Haiti.
Why Haitian-Made Matters
Choosing Haitian-made shoes isn’t only a moral decision—it’s a practical one. Every imported shipment faces customs delays, fees, and the risk of loss. When we buy within Haiti, we cut out layers of uncertainty and build relationships instead.
This approach also fits perfectly with our wider philosophy. Our Earthship classrooms—built from recycled tires, bottles, and rice bags—taught us that sustainability isn’t a luxury. It’s a necessity. Just as those buildings use local materials to create something lasting, buying Haitian-made products uses local talent to create lasting livelihoods.
The artisans at the shoe company work with pride. They know their shoes will travel across the sea to a small island where children will wear them every day. That connection, from one set of hands to another, embodies the spirit of community we strive for.
And the craftsmanship is outstanding. Each pair is polished to a soft shine, the soles stitched tightly, the insides lined for comfort. They aren’t mass-produced; they’re made with care, one by one.
Building Dignity Alongside Education
There’s another layer to this story: dignity.
In Haiti, children often arrive at school barefoot or in worn shoes passed down through several siblings. To receive a brand-new pair made by Haitian hands sends a powerful message: You are worthy of something good, and your country can provide it.
When students wear those shoes, they’re walking proof of Haiti’s potential. They remind everyone—teachers, parents, and visitors—that change doesn’t always have to come from outside help. Sometimes it comes from within the community itself.
Buying Haitian-made is a quiet act of dignity. It tells our students, “We believe in what our country can do,” and it tells the world, “We trust Haitian skill, quality, and craftsmanship.”
Facing the Challenges with Hope
The situation in Haiti remains volatile. Roads close unexpectedly, ports are blocked, and goods vanish. Yet, through all of this, the artisans keep working, the teachers keep teaching, and the students keep showing up in their classrooms—many of which are made from recycled materials that locals once thought impossible.
Our plan is to continue buying locally, even if it means waiting longer for deliveries. When the roads open, those shoes will make their journey from Port-au-Prince to Carès, onto the Batima ferry, and across the turquoise water to La Gonâve. The teachers will unpack them, label each pair, and place them in neat rows. Then one morning, the students will walk in, try them on, and beam with pride.
That moment will be worth every delay and every obstacle.
A Step Toward Sustainability
This decision is part of a larger movement—to support local craftsmanship, reduce waste, and strengthen Haiti’s economy from within. Each pair of shoes represents a step toward a more sustainable future.
Our dream is to extend that philosophy beyond footwear. One day, we hope to source uniforms, classroom furniture, and teaching materials from Haitian suppliers too. It’s about creating a circle of sustainability where education, employment, and empowerment feed each other.
When we invest in Haitian-made, we’re not only keeping our students equipped—we’re helping to build a foundation for long-term independence.
Reflection and Gratitude
Looking back, I’m proud of how far we’ve come. The idea started as a simple question about logistics: How do we get shoes to our students?
The answer turned into something much bigger—a commitment to trust and invest in Haiti’s own potential.
I’m proud of the artisans who make each pair by hand, of the teachers who measure every foot, and of the families who wait patiently for safe deliveries. I’m proud that even in uncertainty, we continue to find creative, ethical ways to keep education alive.
When I imagine our students walking to school in their Haitian-made shoes, I think about the journey behind every step: from the hands of skilled makers in Port-au-Prince to the ferry crossing to La Gonâve, to the proud stride of a child entering the classroom.
That’s what sustainability looks like. It’s not just about materials—it’s about people, pride, and perseverance.
If you’d like to support our efforts to keep investing in Haitian craftsmanship and education, your help truly makes a difference. Every order we place, every delivery that arrives, and every pair of shoes that reaches a child’s feet tells the same story:
Haiti can make its own future, one step at a time.