**Script for YouTube Video** Before the fire, silence reigned. Sugarcane bowed to the wind, whispering tales of toil and revolution—a memory deeply rooted in the earth. It was amidst this quiet that a sense of defiance began to brew. The enslaved people didn’t wait for someone to rescue them. Instead, they plotted and whispered, gathering under the moonlight. In the language of their captors, they were seen merely as property, but in the language of their homeland, they transformed into a brewing storm—ready to reclaim their identity. Enter Toussaint Louverture, a remarkable figure forged in contradictions. He balanced the roles of reader and warrior, diplomat and insurgent. With a fierce determination, he examined maps like sacred texts, using each strategy to reshape freedom’s very meaning for his people. Resistance didn’t always look like a battlefield. It thrived in forests and sugar mills, sometimes hidden in coded hymns. It was unyielding and ever-present—an enduring spirit woven into the fabric of daily life. As French proclamations weakened and Spain’s silence echoed, Britain stepped back, leaving Haiti battered yet bold—standing defiantly as colonial powers crumbled around it. Then came Jean-Jacques Dessalines, a commander fueled with passion. On January 1st, 1804, he raised a flag stitched with defiance. Haiti was no longer a colony; it had become the world’s first free Black republic. They called it savage, unnatural, and impossible. But Haiti endured, not just as a story but as a living legacy. The revolution didn't end. It echoes in every footstep, every song, and every silence. This is Haiti: an ember of liberty that simply refuses to be silenced.