Silent symbol The battered statue in the middle of a war zone

The Unknown Maroon faces west towards a wasteland of bullet-pocked buildings and litter-strewn streets.

- Tom Phillips and Etienne Côté-Paluck

To the statue’s left, armoured cash transit vans race towards Port- au-Prince’s waterfront as the sound of gunfire rings out. To its right sits a deserted school, whose principal was not long ago kidnapped, and a dilapi- dated concrete panel that once held a plaque honouring the rebel slave celebrated by the bronze sculpture. “In his deeds he was like a lion ... and his memory will be blessed forever,” that tribute used to read.

Nearly 60 years after its unveiling, the statue of the Unknown Maroon - or the Nèg Mawon as Haitians call it in Kreyòl - stands almost entirely alone on the frontline of a forgotten conflict. He has become one of the most power- ful symbols of Haiti’s catastrophe and its determination to resist.

Such is the violence gripping Haiti’s capital that reporters must don bullet-proof helmets and vests to get within a few metres of a sculpture that sits between some of the city’s most important buildings, including the presidential palace, the army HQ and the currently vacant national pan- theon museum and supreme court.