What the commemoration of the 235th anniversary of Bois Caïman means for Haiti’s memory and future

Enslaved people united to resist colonial rule Originally published on Global Voices Participants in the Bois Caïman commemoration at Hotel Roi Christophe (Cap-Haïtien). Photo courtesy Kenbe Kapow, used with permission. This post is part of Global Voices’ September 2026 Spotlight series, “ Protest in Democracy .” With this Spotlight, we seek to explore the many forms of protest, the tactics states use to delegitimize and suppress them, and the complex relationship between protest and democracy. You can support this coverage by donating here . The night of August 14, 1791, marked the beginning of a series of events that changed the world. A large group of enslaved people and rebel leaders met at Bwa Kayiman (Bois Caïman) , a historic site located in Haiti’s Northern Department, in the town of Plaine-du-Nord. Under the leadership of the houngan (Vodou priest) Dutty Boukman and manbo (priestess) Cécile Fatiman — along with key resistance leaders — the gathering brought together enslaved people from different plantations for a clandestine religious and political ceremony. They invoked the lwa and ancestral spiritual forces, seeking their protection and strength for the struggle ahead. It set in motion the first major anti-slavery movement in Saint-Domingue (which would later become Haiti), as enslaved people fought for their freedom. At that time, the island of Hispaniola was divided into two European colonies: the western part was the French colony of Saint-Domingue, and the eastern part was the Spanish colony of Santo Domingo; the modern republics did not yet exist. During this time, Saint-Domingue was one of the world’s richest sugar and coffee colonies, built on an economy that depended entirely on the slave trade. To stop this terrible human suffering, enslaved people united to resist one of the most powerful colonial empires of the 18th century. Coming together to resist The resulting uprising brought together different groups of enslaved people. The population included Creole enslaved people who were born on the island, spoke Haitian Creole, understood French, and worked as skilled workers (carpenters, blacksmiths, masons, shoemakers, or house servants); “Bossales,” enslaved people who were brought directly from Africa on a négrier (slave ship), endured the hardest labour conditions and suffered brutal physical punishments, yet held onto their African roots, languages, songs, and Vodou traditions, and domestic or “elite” enslaved people who worked in the masters’ homes as servants, cooks, bodyguards, hairdressers, wet nurses, cochers (horse-drawn carriage drivers), or commandeurs (plantation slave leaders). In this harsh environment, enslaved women often suffered sexual abuse from colonisers, which led to a mixed-race population, while plantation leaders were often forced to enforce rules with great severity. While the plantation owners tried to turn these groups against each other, the movement found strong support in les Nègres Marrons (the Maroons), who escaped the plantations and mines, and fled to the mountains to fight back. Dehumanising treatment During this period, plantation slaves made up the overwhelming majority of Saint-Domingue’s enslaved population, performing the most rigorous tasks and working relentless schedules from dawn until well into the night. When they arrived at colonial ports after weeks in the holds of slave ships travelling from Africa to the Americas, they were branded with heated irons as marks of identification and ownership. Branding also marked medical information or past flight attempts. Enslaved people were routinely beaten with whips and straps made from dried cowhide, which tore through their skin and left large, bloody wounds. Other punishments included being chained in dark basements for several days, often without food. If someone rebelled, an overseer might force another enslaved person to cut off an ear, arm, or leg as a brutal deterrent to others on the plantation. Image of Toussaint Louverture against the backdrop of the Haitian flag, created using Canva Pro elements. The most cruel punishments involved public hangings, beheadings, or torture. Recaptured fugitives faced these brutal penalties, and plantation mortality was high. When enslaved people grew too old or sick to perform hard labour, they were often abandoned and left to die, or executed by plantation owners who viewed them as burdens. In stark contrast to domestic slaves and overseers, who had access to better food, agricultural and mine slaves survived mainly on water and cassava. This, coupled with the terrible labour conditions and widespread dehumanisation, ultimately fuelled the mass collective resistance that resulted in the Bois Caïman uprising. From fight to freedom From the mountains, these rebel fighters employed guerrilla tactics. Using weapons like slingshots, knives, machetes, and arrows, they ambushed and attacked colonial soldiers, took their weapons, poisoned water sources and animals, and burned plantations and their houses. Most of the time, these attacks took place at night, while the colonists were sleeping. They also built a strong intelligence network. From house servants to drivers, enslaved people worked as spies to send information about hidden weapons to rebel commanders, using kònn lanbi (conch shells) and drums to send signals across the mountains. Vodou ceremonies helped prepare the fighters, who bathed in natural plant mixtures and used special powders for protection. Following the Bois Caïman ceremony, the anti-slavery struggle continued over 12 years through the leadership of key figures such as Toussaint Louverture , Jean-Jacques Dessalines , Henri Christophe , Alexandre Pétion , François Capois , and Jean-Pierre Boyer . Women also played a central role in sustaining this revolution, including Marie-Jeanne Lamartinière , Sanité Bélair , Catherine Flon, and Claire Heureuse. This movement ultimately led to the Battle of Vertières on November 18, 1803, where the insurgent army defeated the French colonial forces in the western part of Saint-Domingue. This victory brought an end to slavery in the former colony and resulted in the declaration of the first Black republic in the world — Haitian independence on January 1, 1804 . Later, during the unification of the island under President Boyer in 1822, slavery was also formally abolished in the eastern Spanish-speaking side. (Under President Boyer , the Haitian government occupied the eastern part of the island, formerly Santo Domingo. This occupation began on February 9, 1822, and ended 22 years later on February 27, 1844, when the eastern side declared its independence from Haiti.) Modern-day perspectives To mark the 235th anniversary of this significant historic event at Bois Caïman, on August 14, 2026, various socio-cultural, Vodou, and conference/debate events were organised across the country, including an event in Cap-Haïtien organised by Kenbe Kapow , a collective founded in 2025 by a group of young people. According to Peterson Jules, Kenbe Kapow’s secretary general, who spoke with Global Voices via a WhatsApp call, it acts as an advocacy group to demand accountability from local authorities, raise civic awareness among citizens, and encourage political engagement. In addition to political leaders, the event brought together public figures from academic, literary, and cultural sectors, and featured patriotic songs, dance performances, and discussions about the role of Bois Caïman in making Haiti the world’s first independent Black republic. Panellists also emphasised the need for national unity to address Haiti’s multi-dimensional challenges — particularly the ongoing political crisis, gang violence, and widespread public despair. Kenbe Kapow’s Communications Officer Karlin Georges Le Pont addressing the crowd. Photo courtesy of Kenbe Kapow, used with permission. In comparing historical marronage to the country’s present-day challenges, Kenbe Kapow’s Communications Officer Karlin Georges Le Pont highlighted the importance of individual and collective responsibility: Nou te genyen yon etap mawon, mawonaj kote esklav yo pou te ka soti sou difikilte dominasyon nan chan yo te pran chimen mòn, men yo pa t pran l pou yo te kapab deresponsabilize yo. Se te yon fòm rezistans ke moman an te mande, e pandan yo te nan mawon yo te reflechi sou kouman yo kapab pran libète yo. Si n ap eseye fè yon paralèl ak epòk sa yo, jodi a n ap viv nan yon epòk mawonaj kote ayisyen an mawon tèt li, ayisyen an mawon peyi l, ayisyen an mawon moun li ye a. Kontrèman ak ansyen mawon yo ki te mawon pou te kapab cherche libète, nou menm nou mawon paske nou di nou fatige, nou pap batay ankò. An nou soti nan etap mawonaj la pou nou vin nan etap kongrè a, etap ransebleman an ak tout fòs viv patriyòt nasyon an pou nou chita pou yon Ayiti miyò pou tout moun. We had a stage of marronage where the enslaved, to escape the harsh domination in the fields, took to the mountains. However, they did not do so to shirk their responsibilities; it was a form of resistance required by that time. While in marronage, they reflected on how to achieve their freedom. Drawing a parallel to today, we are living in a time of modern marronage where Haitians are hiding from themselves, their country, and their identity. Unlike the former Maroons who fled to seek freedom, we flee because we say we are tired and will no longer fight. Let us move past this stage of marronage and enter the stage of the congress — a stage of gathering all the patriotic living forces of the nation to sit together for a better Haiti for everyone. Sterline Civil speaking about the need for civic duty and action. Photo courtesy of Kenbe Kapow, used with permission. Politician and former senior state official Sterline Civil stressed the need for civic duty and action over rhetoric, noting that Haitians “must work to show that we are worthy” of the Bois Caïman heritage. “Otherwise,” she claimed, “we will never succeed and will only continue to make grand speeches.” In a similar vein, architect and local leader Wideline Pierre emphasised the need for unity and shared purpose, suggesting that if Haitians want to emerge from the current social, political, and economic situation, they “must realise that unity, konbit (collective labor), and solidarity are what define us as a people.” A new Bois Caïman? Dominique Dupuy, a former minister and Haitian ambassador to UNESCO, suggested: Se yon dezyèm Bwa Kayiman nou bezwen, se yon dezyèm chita nou bezwen, yon dezyèm gran ransebleman, yon dezyèm gwo konba nou bezwen. Se tout ayisyen nan tout orizon, patisipan yo, sa ki deyò yo, ak vwazinaj nou, zanmi nou, ak kominite nou ki ka leve jou an kò pou Ayiti, pou Ayiti zansèt yo te imajine a, pou Ayiti pitit nou yo merite a, pou yon Ayiti kote nou pap sèlman sibi jou après jou nan chèche lavi, men nan chèche lavi nou jwenn li pandan nou vivan. We need a second Bwa Kayiman, a second sit-down meeting, a second great gathering, and a second major battle. It is all Haitians from all backgrounds, those present, those abroad, along with our neighbours, friends, and community, who can make the sun rise again for Haiti — for the Haiti our ancestors imagined, for the Haiti our children deserve, and for a Haiti where we do not merely survive day after day searching for life, but where we find life while we are alive. Rekindling protest On the actual historic site, the 235th anniversary commemoration involved houngans, manbos, and others from the Artibonite department — a region severely impacted by gang violence — gathering to honour their ancestors. Participants dressed in vibrant Afro-Caribbean attire adorned with vèvè symbols and portraits of lwas. The atmosphere vibrated with the sounds of traditional instruments, including tanbou (drums), klòch (bells), and chachà (rattles). Spectators came in their numbers to the Bois Caïman grounds, where a stage and loudspeakers set the mood with traditional, rasin , and protest music. There was a shared spirit of communion through song, dance, and protest. Marching across the site, participants carried banners bearing direct messages and demands: Ayiti pou Vodou, Vodou pou Ayiti (Haiti for Vodou, Vodou for Haiti); Aba Jezi kolon (Down with the colonial Jesus); Nou mande Leta bay peyi a sekirite (We demand that the government provide security for the country); Nou mande pou Leta retire 52/100 li bay legliz nan bidjè a (We demand that the state remove the 52 percent allocated to churches from the national budget); Jezi fè nou esklav, Desalin libere nou (Jesus made us slaves, Dessalines freed us); and Viv Ewò yo (Long live the Heroes). Despite the historic epic achieved by Haiti’s founders who survived the transatlantic slave trade, defeated Napoleon Bonaparte’s army, and changed the course of history, the battle for true freedom is far from over. Two hundred and twenty-two years after achieving independence, Haiti remains a unique symbol of human freedom. Yet, the nation still suffers from poverty, chronic political instability, systemic corruption, gang violence, and foreign interference. Regardless, Haiti possesses the resources needed for its people to live with dignity as the ancestors intended, and the fight for full sovereignty, economic freedom, and social justice remains unfinished. The greatest challenge for the Haitian people to emerge from this endemic crisis is the need for a new political and economic class, alongside a new model of civil society. This new generation of leaders must have a genuine commitment to Haiti, a clear vision, and the willingness to set personal interests aside to prioritize the nation's well-being. Written by Jude Pierre Louis