‘It’s a disgrace’ - Bogle’s descendant wants proper statue to honour him

The narrow road to Stony Gut, St Thomas, winds through quiet bushland and fading markers of memory.

The birthplace of National Hero Paul Bogle feels forgotten, its stones overrun by weeds. But for Constantine Bogle, 62, the great-great-grandson of the Baptist deacon who led the 1865 Morant Bay Rebellion, that neglect runs deeper than decay. He says even the image Jamaica built to honour his ancestor tells a lie.

"The statue that they put up in Morant Bay is not him," he said, his voice tightening. "Is a duppy! A demon they plant in the parish. That image never capture the strength, the dignity, or the truth of Paul Bogle."

The statue he's referring to was unveiled in 1965, 100 years after the rebellion, and sculpted by Jamaican artist Edna Manley. It once stood before the historic courthouse where Bogle was tried and executed. The bronze-coloured figure, bare-chested with wrists bound and head bowed, was meant to symbolise endurance. Some saw it as defiance frozen in defeat; others, like Constantine, saw humiliation.

He reached into a small plastic sleeve and pulled out a fragile Daily Gleaner clipping from June 15, 1972. The paper trembled in his hands.

"Look yah," he said, his eyes glistening. "All now mi keep this because is the only thing them ever print weh show the truth. But even this bring pain." He paused, struggling to steady his voice.

"You can imagine thiefing a duppy? They must bring back Paul Bogle. Them have him and a gwaan like them don't."

The article, marking a cultural exchange between Jamaica and Mexico, stated that soil from Bogle's gravesite was to be placed in a Mexican monument to freedom fighters. But for Constantine, it meant his ancestor's body was taken, and his spirit carried away.

"They must tell Jamaican people where exactly Paul Bogle deh and why them carry him go Mexico go hide him," he told THE WEEKEND STAR.

Art historians note that Manley's decision to bind the hero's hands was deliberate, a metaphor for captivity and courage. But in St Thomas, that symbolism was never fully accepted. To descendants like Constantine, it reduced a freedom fighter to a man in chains.

"A statue must represent him walking -- not tied down like a prisoner," he said. "That man walk from Stony Gut to Spanish Town for justice, and the statue make him look weak. It's a disgrace, and mi want fi say it loud and clear."

He insists that the portrait on Jamaica's $50 note better reflects the real man.

"That's him. But the statue? That's ghost work. No good," he said.

In 2020, after decades of weather damage and debate, the statue was removed during the courthouse restoration and never re-erected. Only its bare plinth remains, standing like a wound in the town square.

Around the ruins of the old courthouse, the argument spilled into the afternoon, part memory, part frustration. An elderly woman, staring at the empty pedestal where the statue once stood, shook her head.

"Paul Bogle nah come back," she said. "Inna this time when so much pickney a dead, him goodly a roll inna him grave." She explained that the bound-wrist pose always felt like a warning to children, of pain without the courage that inspired the march. She said that a new statue should show motion and backbone, not defeat.

Beside her, Jeniffer, a vendor, lifted a $50 bill to the light.

"People say a nuh him," she said, "But look yah, same face pan di money. A who else it could be?"

Jennifer and her other customer traded barbs over the long-running rumour that the famous photograph might show another 19th-century activist, Thomas Jennings.

"If the man pan di money a Jennings, then weh di real Bogle deh?" the customer demanded.

But Jennifer said, "A him same one. You think dem woulda print another man face fi $50? Come on, man."

"This place shoulda be a tourist site," she said. "If people could come see di real story wid guide, photos and a statue weh show him walking, nuff youth woulda get work. Right now a bush and argument."

For Constantine, that neglect is personal. Every October he organises a candlelight memorial at Stony Gut, drawing neighbours to remember the men and women who died for justice.

"We light candles because we haffi keep the spirit alive," he said softly. "If we stop, Jamaica forget."