Front Cover
 Table of Contents
 Back Cover

Title: Jamaica journal
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00090030/00026
 Material Information
Title: Jamaica journal
Series Title: Jamaica journal.
Abbreviated Title: Jam. j.
Physical Description: v. : ill. (part col.) ; 31 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Institute of Jamaica
Publisher: Institute of Jamaica.
Place of Publication: Kingston
Publication Date: 1975
Frequency: semiannual
Subject: Periodicals -- Jamaica   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: Jamaica
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with Dec. 1967 issue.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00090030
Volume ID: VID00026
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01797964
lccn - 75027862
issn - 0021-4124

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Table of Contents
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
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        Page 31
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    Back Cover
        Page 57
        Page 58
Full Text


VOL. 9 NO. 1

, i , ^ /


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II I' ;r


See page 26 for Sr. Nicolas Guilln's Acceptance Speech


VOL. 9 NO. 1

L 'urnal is published Quarterly by
:te of Jamaica, 12-16 East
Jston, Jamaica, West Indies.

x Nettleford, Chairman
\Vills Repole, Vice Chairman
Neville Dawes,
Secretary to the Board of Governors

Dahlia Mills Repole (Chairman)
Jean D'Costa
W.A. Thwaites
Neville Dawes


Raphael Shearer

Offset Printing Co. Ltd.


Jamaica S 1.00 U.K. & Europe 75p
West Indies $3.00 (B.W.I)
U.S. & Canada S2.00
I year $ 4.00
3 years $10.00
5 years S18.00 Post Paid
U.. & Cmaad
I year 7.00 plus $1.00 postage
3 years 20.0 plus 3.00 postage
5 years $32.00 plus $5.00 poalage
Wat Iedaes
1 year ._.LO plus t 2.00 postage
ptius 6.00 postage
plus 510.00 postage

plus 50p postage
plus .so0p postage
..pi+;2.SOp postage
Africa, Asia A Alistralia
U.S..or U L. subsacption rates plus
dbltle their respective postage rates
arter rn to albrs & Dinudilost on enlqir.

Bountied European Immigration
with special reference to the German Settlement at
Seaford Town in 1850. ............ .. ........... Douglas Hall 2

Folk Art of Mexico
Exhibit at The Institute of Jamaica ............................ 10
Mexican Craft .................................................. 11
Prime Minister Michael Manley's Speech
at the opening of the Mexican Art Exhibition ....................... 12
Mexican Art Scene ........................... Trevor Roche Burrowes 14
Cuban Art Exhibition ......................... Trevor Roche Burrowes 21

Sr. Nicolas Guillen's Acceptance Speech ............................. 26
Towards a Theory of Literature in Revolutionary Cuba by J.R. Pereira 28
The Jamaican Cultural Identity ............... ...... by Neville Dawes 34
Cannon Shot and Glass Beads ............... A Review by Jean D'Costa 38

Introduction of Jamaican Music
into the Established Churches .................. .. Pamela O'Gorman 40

Rediscovery of an"extinct"fruitfly ................... Walter van Whervin 45
Biogas, a fuel gas from wastes ................ K.E. Magnus & K.E. Lee 48
N natural H history C olum n ............................................ 51

The Disadvantaged and Alternatives of
(Traditional) Instructional Delivery Systems ......... RonaldJ. Samuda 52

Front Cover

Inside Front Cover

"At the Edge of the Wood" mural for Childrens'
Hospital by Rebecca Masson and Jean Chin Loy,
age 16 years. St. Andrew High School for Girls.
[Winners of the National School Art Exhibition
1974 Institute of Jamaica Trophy].

Musgrave Medal Award

.;--Ot -0


Seaford Town up to 1850

By Douglas Hall

The land for Seaford Township (about 500 acres of
Montpelier Mountain estate) was acquired by the Island
Legislature from Lord Seaford.52 About 25 miles from
Montego Bay, the site lay in an interior valley bounded on
the north and east by Lamb's River, on the west by
Belvedere, and on the south by the remainder of
Montpelier Mountain. The intention was that the
immigrants should arrive, occupy cottages previously
built for them, and be provisioned and paid small weekly
allowances until they had established themselves and
their cultivations. Eventually, they were to be given free
title to their lots. Although there was some understanding
that this was to be at the end of five years' residence, the
first titles were not in fact delivered until 1850.
In mid-December, 1835, the immigrants for Seaford
Town arrived at Montego Bay. On December 29th, Mr.
Finlayson, the Stipendiary Magistrate in the area
reported to the Governor.
"From the information which I received it certainly appears that
there has been some very culpable negligence in preparing accom-
modation for the Immigrants upon their arrival. Only 16 or 17
cottages were ready. Mr. Lemonius stated that he was quite
thunderstruck when he received intelligence of the circumstances,
and was at a loss how to act. Temporary accommodation ... was
made at Redding Wharf ... and in the meantime every exertion

was made to forward the buildings at Seaford's Town. The
Immiigrants have been almost all sent to the Town in different
parties, and are now employed in preparing their own Cottages:
and Mr. Lemonius states that they are quite contented with their
Mr. Lemonius was perhaps wrong in his judgment. It is
an accepted story in Seaford Town that soon after their
arrival some of the immigrants prepared an ambush,
intending to seize Mr. Lemonius on his way into the
Township and to hang him on the spot."3 It is a fact that
his name does not again appear, after 1835, in the records
of the Township and it may well be true that he never
subsequently visited the place.
Mr. Finlayson's remarks were substantiated by another
Stipendiary Magistrate, Mr. Facey, who reported to the
Governor on December 31st, that he had inspected the
cottages at Seaford Town and found them imperfectly
thatched, badly walled, without flooring, and carelessly
designed and constructed."
Some of the reasons for the failure are clear enough. It
was difficult to get materials delivered to the site and to
find local labour to work on the construction. In
particular, there was a scarcity of skilled workers, such as
masons and carpenters, who might be employed in such
an enterprise.36 It might also have been that the

Superintendent, first appointed to the Township a Mr.
T.G. Hall, had displayed less vigour than he should. In
any case, he had by July 1836 resigned his post. The new
Superintendent was Mr. Andrew Broadfoot."'
However disillusioned the immigrants might have
been, the labour of house-building now fell upon their
shoulders, and it is interesting to try to assess their
qualifications and their equipment for the task. There
were 84 men, 72 women, 45 boys under 16, and 48 girls
under 16 in the total of 249. The occupations of the men
were given as in table 3.

Occupation of 84 men first arriving in Seaford Town

A\ riiculLturalist

Source: W.I.R.L Ms 92.

Number Occupations
1 Masons
1 Millers
1 Musicians
2 Ropemakers
1 Schoolmasters
:3 Shoemakers
1 Tailors
2 We(avers I
1 Labourers



The number of those about whom we have no information
is large (32 out of 84): but even allowing for the small
numbers shown to have appropriate skills, such as
carpentry and masonry; and the frustrations of some
others such as the musicians: there were enough people
and a sufficient variety of skills to allow a start at the
Their equipment, however, was scarcely adequate. By
the end of July, 1836, after seven months of labour and
complaint the inventory of stores showed the following:
(Table 4).
Inventory of stores in Seaford Town, 21 July 1836

Item No.
Adzes 28
Bills 11
Cutlasses, broken 10
whole 27
Rasps and Files 441
Spades 25
Borer, for stone-
blasting 1
large 5
small 4
Weighing machine,
with various weights 1
Common scales 1
Set of tin measures 1
Set, pewter spirit
measures 1
Bellows 1
Anvil 1
Vice 1
Spare Hawk 1
Iron, sheets 11/2
Source: W.I.R.L. Ms. 92

Hinges, prs.
Nails, kegs
Screw dugers
Planes, assorted

Butcher's axe
S knife
S steel
Set of Steel yards
Ratline, lbs.

Salt, barrels
Rice, lbs.
Medicines, assorted

7 1/



l '/2

Clearly, the work would go slowly. Clearly, too, the best
use was not always made of scarce resources. Until the
end of October 1836, the storekeeper was William Hessee
(Hoessee), the only stated agriculturalistt", and during
the last six weeks of his tenure he was granted double pay
and double rations since his duties as storekeeper kept
him fully occupied and left him no time to cultivate his
land.3 On 21 October, 1836, he was replaced by Ludovic
Shatla,39 a baker.
Seaford Township was controlled by a board of

Commissioners who met for the first time on Wednesday
20th July, 1836. Those present were: Hon. Duncan
Robertson, Chairman, Hon. John Manderson, Hon.
Thomas McNeil, Mr. Robert Watt, Captain King, and
Mr. Matthew Farquharson. They recommended that their
number be increased,40 and set up a sub-Committee of
Thomas McNeil, Matthew Farquharson, and John
Campbell (an absent member) to draw up "regulations for
the internal management of the township" to be presented
at their next meeting in September. They approved the
appointment of Mr. Broadfoot in place of Mr. Hall and
recommended that he be made a Justice of the Peace.
They appointed Mr. McNeil as treasurer and authorised
him to spend 1,000, chargeable to the Receiver-General,
on agreed expenditures.4 They asked Mr. McNeil, as
Custos of Westmoreland, to station a sergeant and six
policemen in the Township in accommodation to be built
for them by the immigrants."' They instructed Mr.
Broadfoot, who was resident in the Township, to add two
rooms to his own house one for a doctor and another for
a clergyman. (But, like the police, these did not arrive).
They ordered a Chapel and a Hospital to be built. They
adjourned until September when they were to receive from
Mr. Broadfoot an inventory of stores and a financial
account. Meantime, no new immigrants were to be
received in the Township without the prior approval of the
Commission. Those already in residence were to receive a
daily ration of rum.
The September meeting failed for lack of a quorum, and
in October five Commissioners present at a session held at
Cow Park, a neighboring estate, dealt primarily with the
Township's finances. They noted a credit balance of
45-15s-104d. after all accounts had been settled. They
paid the Reverend Mr. Pfeiffer 30 for "occasional
performances of religious services" up to that date and for
the remainder of 1836; and they authorised the Treasurer
...dispose of all articles belonging to the Township which may
be remaining at the Wharves or elsewhere and not required for
immediate use. "
In view of the inventory of the end of July, this seems a
strange decision for there is no evidence of any large
deliveries of equipment in the Township in August or
September. The inference must be that even by October,
1836, the Seaford Town Commissioners had lost whatever
earlier enthusiasm they may have had for the success of
the settlement.
In January, 1837, three Commissioners present at
another meeting in Seaford Town, though not consti-
tuting a quorum, proposed and approved the following
scales of rations for the immigrants. Up to this time,
apparently, the issue had been left entirely to the
discretion of the Superintendent. The inhabitants were
divided into three classes (not unlike the classification of
the slave-gangs and subsequently of free labourers on the
estates), and were to receive the rations appropriate to
their class.
Immigrants food rations (Seaford Town)
as from 21 January 1837

First Class
57 men ... each

Weekly Ration
3 lbs. flour
4 lbs. cornmeal
4 lbs. saltfish
1 lb. fresh beef
4 ozs. lard

Second Class
63, males & females,
each 2 lbs. flour
22 lbs. meal
21/2 lbs. fish
'/2 lb. fresh beef
2/2 ozs. lard

Is. 8d.
Is. 8d.

Is. 2d.
Is. 2d.

Third Class
-17 children ... each

SOURCE. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92. The similarity to the sugar estates "First"
or "Great" gangs and "Second" and "Third" gangs is clear.
Six months later, on 17 June, 1837, at another meeting
attended by only two of the Commissioners, they
expressed a dissatisfaction over the behaviour of the
immigrants. The matter is worthy of notice because it
illustrates another source of disillusionment for the
sponsors of European immigration. The Europeans were
expected to display those great virtues of an ideal
labouring-class which the blacks might try to acquire.
...the unwearied industry, the thought of providing for the
support of themselves and families, which their habits would
exhibit, would be observed: and, in the course of time, is it un-
reasonable to hope, imitated?"'
It was, then perhaps with some sadness that the
Commissioners of Seaford Town, in June 1837, had to
instruct the Superintendent that the immigrants:
"...be paid their arrears of flour for bread and an additional
allowance of flour in lieu of meal be continued for four weeks, and in
consequence of many of the Emigrants being so improvident it is
recommended to serve only a week's allowance at a time.''4
In any case, it is perfectly clear that the immigrants
had not been receiving their rations as they ought. The
irregularities of supply were not, however, to continue
much longer. On August 5th of the same year the
Commissioners resolved:
"That from this day the general issue of rations do cease to the
inhabitants of Seaford Town."'"
In future, the medical attendant might authorise special
issue to the sick, and the Superintendent might make
allowance for those others "incompetent to perform
labour"; but in general, they were now on their own. There
is no record of any payment in lieu of rations, but it is
likely that the established immigrants received rates for
indentured European labour which provided 3s.4d. weekly
to each head of a family with an additional 2s. 6d. for each
other person over 12 years, and Is. 8d. for each child
under 12 and over 8 years. In return, they were to work
five days a week for their employer, in this case the Island
Legislature through the Board of Commissioners. Their
labour, would be in the continuing construction of the
They had now just been over 1' 2 years in Jamaica and,
although the efforts of individual households varied
widely, their total agricultural performance had not been
without merit. They had been encouraged to plant yams,
coffee,plantains, and other small crops. By the end of
September, 1837, the fifty remaining households had
planted a total of about 8,500 yam hills, 7,000 coffee
seedlings, 3,700 plantains, and 200 bananas. They had, in
addition, 35 acres in cocoes and ginger, and a few had
planted some cane and some arrowroot.47
The Superintendent's comments on each family were
revealing. Johan Bierbusse, the schoolmaster, notwith-
standing his efforts in the classroom, had with a friend's
assistance planted 63 hills of yams, 100 plantains, 540
coffee, 20 roots of cane, and /z2 acre in cocoes and ginger.
The Sourlenders, a family of brickmakers, had
nonetheless turned a good agricultural hand. The five of
them had established 200 yam hills, 100 plantains, 110
coffee, 1 acre of cocoes and ginger, and a few bananas. The
Sommers, another large family, who were weavers, had
planted 580 yam hills, 300 plantains, 150 coffee, and an
acre in cocoes and ginger. William Stelding, a gardener by
trade, had done less well. He and his wife Henrietta had
come to Jamaica but she had died. Mr. Broadfoot reported

Seaford Townl signpost at Seaford Centre
him living alone in an "indifferent house" with a small
cultivation of 36 yam hills, 22 plantains, i acre of cocoes
and ginger, 6 bananas and 2 coffee. Soon after, he went to
the United States. A few, like the Myhaust brothers,
comedians, were in a different order of distress "House
and provisions in a state of ruin in consequence of the
inhabitants having been committed last Quarter Sessions
to the house of correction for a breach of the peace." They
too went to the United States in 1837. Frederic Fisher,
sole survivor in Jamaica of a family of six who had arrived
in 1835, was a carpenter. It was befitting therefore, that
he occupied a well-made house, framed and sarked. He
had also established 300 yam hills, 2 an acre of cocoes
and ginger, and 100 coffee seedlings.
By the end of September, 1838, although the population
of the Township had declined from 249 to 156, and was to
decline still further, it appeared to the indefatigable Mr.
Broadfoot that the worst had passed. He reported that the
immigrants were now "more inured to a tropical climate"
and in better health.
"The industrious portion of them have since the termination of last
year's Ginger Crop been employed in making and repairing roads...

1/2 lbs. flour
2 Ibs. cornmeal
2 lbs. saltfish
1/2 lb. fresh beef
2 ozs. lard

some of them have also been employed in the cultivation of Sugar
Cane on a small property situated near the Township and they are
generally ready and willing to perform any kind of labour required
of them ... The females chiefly employ themselves in the clear part
of the day cleaning provisions and picking cotton, when the sun
becomes hot they retire to their houses and spend the remaining
part of the day in spinning cotton thread and making stockings
and gloves of the same article both of which are of excellent
quality and very durable. We have several Weavers in the Town-
ship who are anxious to follow their trade, and make cloth from the
cotton they cultivate however the want of looms prevents their
doing so, having neglected to bring any from their own country
understanding that they would be of no use to them in this.""'
The crops, he continued, were in good condition, the land
abounding in plantains, bananas, yams, cocoes, arrow-
root, tobacco, cotton, and "every kind of fruit trees the
Island produces". This is strange, because only a year
earlier when he had spelled out in detail the crops on every
household's plot he had said nothing whatsoever about
tobacco or cotton, and had mentioned only three or four
people as having planted a little arrowroot. One can only
conclude that he was carried away by the prospect of new
domestic industry blossoming in the hills of Westmore-
land. In any event, the small hand-looms which the
weavers had left in Germany would not have served to
make cotton cloth as he, and they, seemed to think.49
More to the point was his explanation that the ginger
crop of the previous year had brought sizeable incomes to
some of the immigrants and had provided the means by
which they had departed for the United States. Apart
from that, they could not have been finding their
agriculture financially rewarding, or they might have been
less inclined to seek employment cutting cane and

building roads. Their large coffee-walks would not yet
have been productive since coffee does not yield a crop
before three years and does not fully mature until five
years after planting. Nor is there much evidence that the
Germans were able to sell large quantities of foodstuffs in
the local markets. There, it is likely, they found both
competition and resistance from the local population of
ex-slaves who were engaged in food production on their
own account.
Andrew Broadfoot's disposition to exaggerate success
and to provide easy explanation of failure was no doubt
assisted by the apparent unconcern of the Commissioners
to whom he had to report. Of 23 persons named at one
time or another as Commissioners only three or four can
be said to have shown an active and fairly constant
interest. Most outstanding in this respect was Thomas
McNeil, Custos of Westmoreland; and it is reasonable to
assume that he, like the other more concerned members,
was moved by a personal involvement in the European
immigration. But not all who were interested in
immigration supported the idea of government-sponsored
Townships. Mr. John Salmon, for instance, a large
importer of Europeans, and Custos of St. Elizabeth,
would surely have been a Seaford Town Commissioner if
he had not been opposed to the County Townships.

The evidence of general neglect is easily marshalled,
and can most succinctly be shown in the record of
meetings and attendances shown in Table 6. Not only
were attendances few, but the number of meetings
considerably declined after 1837.

Meetings and Attendances of Seaford Town Commissioners


Duncan Robertson
John Manderson
Thomas McNeil
Robert Watt
Capt. King
Matthew Farquharson
John Campbell
John Purrier
E.J. Coke
Theodore Stone
John Whittingham
Hugh Anthony Whitelocke
William Shilletto
Isaac Jackson
Dr. Jelly
V.S. Grignon
R.E. Evans
Thomas Tait
Anthony Rearrie
Edward H. Clarke
William H. Cooke
S.G. Barrett

Henry Brocketts

Attendance on Dates of Meeting


STITLES: See below

Resigned in
October 1836

Became Chairman
October 1836

spelled Tate

Appointed mid-
/ Appointed 1849

NOTE: Information taken or inferred from minutes of meetings. The
TITLES column lists those who, with "the Senior Members (of
the Legislature) for the parishes of Westmoreland, St. Elizabeth,
SOURCE: W.I.R.L. Ms. 92.

and Hanover", and assisted by George Cunningham, the County
Surveyor for Cornwall, were appointed in 1849 to grant convey-
ances of land-titles.

' ' ' ' ' '

One explanation lies in the difficulties of travel. The
road to Seaford Town from Savanna-la-Mar, or from
Black River, or Montego Bay, was rough and the journey
was not to be taken without very good cause. Even in the
early enthusiastic days when the immigrants had first
arrived, the second meeting fell through for lack of a
quorum. No wonder that as expectation declined interest
followed suit. The daily business of supervision being left
to Mr. Broadfoot, the Commissioners needed to meet from
time to time to approve regulation, authorise expendi-
tures, note the general progress of the settlement, and
make any special recommendations they thought
The regulations, such as they were, were drawn up in
1836 and remained in force subject to occasional
modification. The possibility of authorising expenditures
rested on the amount of money available. From
September 1834 to September 1837 the Legislature
provided about 2,000 a year, with a total of 6,300, for
the Seaford Township. From September 1837 to April
1843 the total provided was just over 1,000 with 338 in
1839-1840 as the highest annual appropriation in the five
and a half years.50 The general progress of the settlement
was reported annually by Mr. Broadfoot; but since the
general knowledge was that the Germans were rapidly
moving on, either to another world or to some other part
of this, there would have been little inducement to go and
hear the Superintendent's qualified descriptions of
success. Finally, once those Germans who intended to
remain had settled down there was little special
recommendation to be made about their welfare, except in
the very important matter of their claims to land.
Attendance at meetings, it will be noted, recovered
significantly when this matter came up in 1849.
The Superintendent's Report for the year September
1838 to September 1839 showed the extent of uncertainty
among the settlers themselves. They had stopped
improving their houses because of a rumour that the
Township was to be abandoned by the Legislature and
that the land would revert to the donor Lord Seaford.
They were apparently increasing their production of
ginger, now said to be their 'staple commodity', the sale of
which had provided funds for emigration from the

Typical Gerinr' home
of the present day.

Township. Beyond working on their grounds they showed
no inclination "to perform agricultural labour on the
neighboring properties." Mr. Broadfoot explained this
reluctance as stemming.
-...principally from the unfortunate selection of the individuals in
the first instance, very few of whom had ever been accustomed to
agricultural labour in their own country, the adult males being
chiefly composed of disbanded soldiers and handy-craftsmen who
cannot obtain employment in their accustomed professions.'''
No doubt there was some truth in this, but it was even
more to the point that these people had been recruited not
to labour on the estates but to establish themselves as a
township of farmers on their own lands.
A year later, when the population was at its lowest
point,5 Mr. Broadfoot came to the real matter:
"If however the object in settling the Township was to afford a
nucleus for future emigration, that object has been obtained, as up-
wards of one hundred white inhabitants are now settled
comfortably in the backwoods on the country healthy and in-
dustrious, requiring no further aid from the country than perhaps
some trifling assistance in common with all the other in-
There was not the slighest hope at this time that the
Legislature would again embark on large plans for
European immigration; nor would the residents of Seaford
Town have agreed that their needs were "trifling" they
wanted a church and a clergyman, and they were
beginning to wonder about their titles to the land they
occupied; but, in a very basic sense the Superintendent
was right the settlement, small as it was, was
There is evidence that the Germans themselves thought
so. A few had discussed with Mr. Broadfoot the
possibility of bringing family and friends from Germany
to join them. This may have been a consequence of
nostalgia rather than of confidence, but at least they must
have felt some commitment to the Township. Of more
positive weight is the fact that from time to time German
and other European immigrants in other parts of Jamaica
tended to move to Seaford Town in search of land and the
company of fellow-Europeans. In June, 1837, the family
Brown (5 males and 3 females) and the family of
Grosscoph (3 males and 1 female)"" had all arrived in
Seaford Town from Scarlettfield, a nearby estate. In

1840, George Hellebricht, Charlotte, Johanna, and
Frederic Evelyn, and William Brown, arrived. In 1841
there was to be an influx from St. Ann bringing the Plenge
family, the Schliefers, the Hahns, and William Went and
Henry Munte. In the same year Carl Ellermeyer
(Eldermeyer) returned from the United States, and Adam
and Maria Gunterberg (Guindesberg) returned -
bringing two children William and Joseph." Others,
newcomers, in 1841, included the Bertram family, Ula
Vedan, Henry Sacker, and Dorothy Bunnaman."' From
the end of 1840 the population of the Township turned
from its previous downward trend.
Without examining the history of the other county
Townships at Middlesex and Altamont; two possible
explanations of the comparative success of Seaford Town
can be offered. First, it was the only 'German' township;
thus its members, speaking a foreign language and seeing
themselves as distinctive from other whites in the colony,
tended to stick together or to leave the island. Moreover,
this 'nucleus' of Germans eventually began to attract
other Germans when their indentures to particular estates
terminated. Secondly, clear credit must be given to the
endeavours of particular individuals in the establishment
of Seaford Town. Middlesex and Altamont may have had
their equivalents of Thomas McNeil and Robert Watt and
Andrew Broadfoot, but Seaford Township's unique
membership lay in the young schoolmaster catechist
Johannes Bierbusse who had been among the first
arrivals. "
About two thirds of the original German settlers at
Seaford Town were Roman Catholics. There was no priest
among them, and although Bierbusse could baptize and
catechize he could not administer the sacraments. Taken,
as they had been, straight from their ship through
temporary lodgings at Reading into the interior of
Westmoreland, the immigrants remained ignorant, until
1839. of the fact that there was a vicar apostolic resident
in Kingston.
Meanwhile, Bierbusse had carried on as best as he
could. In 1838, Mr. Broadfoot mentioned him in
particular. The schoolmaster, he said, conducted the
divine service on Sundays, and during the week gave
instruction to the children, including lessons in German
and in English of which he had "obtained a considerable
knowledge" since his arrival in the island. These
comments were repeated in the following year.60
But Johan Bierbusse was more than schoolmaster and
catechist. He very clearly became the unofficial
representative of his fellow-immigrants. In September
1839 Bierbusse set out for Kingston to find the vicar
apostolic. On his way, he stopped in Spanish Town where
he told William Cotham, a Jesuit missionary, of the plight
of the Seaford Town Germans.6' Cotham wrote to
England about it, and part of his letter is worth quoting:
"The most interesting news that we have, is that on the 28th
September a German called here on his road to Kingston in search
of a priest. He told me that 4 years ago 300 Germans 200 of them
Catholics settled about 24 miles from Montego Bay 130 from
Kingston. When they came, a priest promised to follow them if
they sent him a good account of affairs: this they have written, but
have received no answer. I fear that nearly all of tham can speak no
other language but German, so that no priest in the island will be
able to instruct them. The messenger speaks English pretty well:
he is of the 3rd order of St. Francis: he acts as their missionary:
they have built a school and a chapel where they assemble on
Sunday and Holidays for lectures of piety, prayer, singing,
psalms, and hymns etc. I expect to see him on his return.""'
Bierbusse, apparently, had little result from his visit to
Kingston; but at the end of October the Jesuit Mission in
Spanish Town was closed- William Cotham returned to
teaching at Mr.Duquesnay'sHigh School in Kingston, but
his fellow-missionary James Dupeyron, set out for

Montego Bay and stopped en route at Seaford Town.
There, he recorded the baptisms, by Bierbusse, of 20
children and himself baptised two: John Kameke on 19
November 1839, and Philip Forester on 24th November.
He then moved on. In 1840, the Roman Catholics in the
Townships were still loud in complaint.
"...of being so long as five years in the country without having
had the Holy Sacrament administered to them."
Bierbusse also played his part in the local politics and
administration of the Township. In April 1839 the settlers
were disturbed by rumours, which obviously had some
foundation, that the Township was to be abandoned and
the Superintendant dismissed. This, in their view, would
have been disastrous. Moreover, the rumour tended to
discourage other Germans in the island who were showing
some inclination to move into the Township. Consequent-
"... the whole of the settlers through Johannes Burbusse their
school-master having waited upon them (the Commissioners
McNeil and Whitelock) and requested that the Superintendant
should not leave the Township the settlers being under much fear
of ill-consequences arising from animosities existing among them-
selves and kept under control by the Superintendant ... (The
Commissioners) consider they are best fulfilling the intentions ot
the Act 5 Wm 4 Chapter 42 by requesting Mr. Broadfoot to remain
in charge of this Township."4
Not all the Commissioners agreed with this view. Since
McNeil and Whitelock could not act alone, because they
did not constitute a quorum, the recommendation went
before a meeting held in Montego Bay on 5th July 1839 at
which McNeil, Barrett, Whitelock, Campbell, and
Manderson were present. It was carried by the votes of
the three first-named against the Opposition of Campbell
and Manderson. Clearly the continuence of the Township
had been, and continued, under some question.
Until 1850, when at last those qualified by residence in
the Township received title to the land on which they lived
and cultivated, life in Seaford Town appears to have
altered little except in some increase of material comfort
for those who survived. The site donated for the Township
was removed from the denser populations of the more
developed sugar-growing areas in the plains. The first
immigrants had arrived late in 1835 when the ex-slaves
were still, by the terms of 'Apprenticeship' largely bound
to the estates. Moreover, the years between 1834 and 1840
were in Jamaica, marked by great antagonisms between
ex-masters and ex-slaves. These few whites, distinctive
by their strange language and their Roman Catholicism.
would not, even if they had sought it, found popularity
with the negroes in surrounding areas. But they did not
seek it. Even in the 20th century a clannish attitude
marks the German Town inhabitant.
Gradually, the presence of the white community
attracted ex-slaves into nearby settlements; but the
relationship appears to have been competitive rather than
friendly. The blacks, no doubt, viewed the white
Township with some suspicion. The motives behind the
European Immigration Schemes were not after all,
maintained in deep, dark secrecy. Clearly too, they would
have regarded them with jealousy. These white
newcomers were being provided for in a manner to which
the most industrious black could not aspire. And finally,
when the immigrants began to plant their yams, cocoes,
plantains, and ginger, it became obvious that far from
constituting a demand for the produce of Jamaican
cultivators they would compete with them in the local
market. Even those who, finding agricultural labour
distasteful, sought other means of livelihood, competed
with the blacks for employment on the roads and on the
neighboring properties.
The sources of income of the European were far more
secure than those of the local population. In addition to

their weekly allowances of food (discontinued in 1837) and
money prescribed by law, they were allowed to find
additional money by employment in roadbuilding, skilled
jobs, and a variety of common services. They were, for
instance, paid to build the road leading into their
Township, getting rates of 6s. 8d., 5s. and 3s. 4d. for
eight feet of road, depending on the difficulty of cutting.
Financed by subscriptions from six interested parties"6
amounting to 37-6-8d., and 152-6-8d., authorised by
the Commissioners, the road was completed by early
January, 1838. No ex-slave was so protected against
distress and no ex-slave could harbour the slightest hope
that by industriously settling on and working a piece of
land he might eventually be granted title to it.
There is little evidence of gaiety among the inhabitants
of the Township. Clearly, there were some amusements,
and it appears that the Myhaust brothers carried matters
to excess on at least one occasion before their departure
for the United States. Once or twice, an elopement
brought excitement to the community. After the Maroon
uprising in 1795-96 the Maroons of Trelawny Town had
been deported to Nova Scotia and the Town soon after
became a British regimental barracks. During 1836 to
1838 the barracks were occupied by 18 officers and about
530 other ranks of the 37th Regiment (North
Hampshire)." There is no doubt that there was some
coming and going between Seaford and Maroon Trelawny
Town," though the road was rough and the excursions
were no doubt hampered by military regulations and
parental warnings.
In brief, the leisure hours of the German settlers appear
to have been given to domestic life and to such
entertainments as Johannes Bierbusse centred on his
schoolroom. Gradually, through the 19th century, there
creep into the records of the Township names of
non-Germanic origin. Some were perhaps attempts at
English translations, others were simply phonetic
renditions of German names by English-speaking scribes,
others clearly reflect the entry into Seaford Town of white
immigrants of British and French origin. There is no
obvious instance, up to 1850, of the acceptance in the
area, much less in the community, of any black or
coloured person seeking land and security.

On 27 August, 1849, three of the Commissioners
reported to Mr. McNeil that "sundry persons in the
Township" had applied for "conveyance to them of their
respective lots of land." Following this communication,
and with a speed that bespoke an eagerness to be rid of
concern with the Township, a meeting was called for the
30th of August when a number of Commissioners were
named as responsible for the conveyance of titles."
Then at Seaford Town, on 28 September, 1849, the
Commissioners held their last recorded meeting and
resolved: "
1. That the original Superintendent's house with ten acres of
land be reserved for Church, Market, and other ulterior (sic)
2. That the Square, represented in the diagram of the town lots.
be also reserved.
3. That the town lots remain as surveyed by the Crown Surveyor
in January, 1836, and that 17 titles be given for 17 lots now
occupied with buildings, as town lots according to
Schedule A.
4. That three acres of land be apportioned to each member ot
Seaford Township now settled thereon, named as per
Schedule B, annexed outside of the said town lots, except to
the 17 members above mentioned to whom two acres only
outside the said town are to be allotted.
5. That the remaining town lots be reserved for future
European Settlers, or for the future tenure of present parties.
at the will of a quorum of Trustees.
6. That William C. Morris, Esq. be appointed at the expense of
the claimants of land to draw, within a month, a diagram
showing all the above: and to give a general diagram to the
Chairman and a diagram to each individual.
7. That in future no one should be granted title unless
resident in the Township for at least 12 months and re-
commended by at least two of the trustees or (ommissioner
8. That such persons as are mentioned in Schedule C' shall be
allowed to locate themselves in the Township. and, alter
satisfying the criteria set out above. shall have titles for lands
in like proportion of acres as above conveyed to them.
9. That the Surveyor should get a copy of these Resolution,
and act strictly in accordance with them.
10. That all those now occupying land in the township without ti
authority of the Commissioners should quit forthwith or i
prosecuted as trespassers under information laid by any onr, of
the residents of the Township.
11. That in future, any one cutting timber or tilling land not
conveyed to them or allotted to them by the permission
of at least two of the Commissioners should be prosecuted for

'r. _

S1 Germalns destined
-. .' "."1 1 afford Town, landed.

:~s",~I~,~,~ ~8t~-\u~~
i ~5~4E~F~ -'~ac~a~L~j~--~8~;r

Thus, fourteen years after the first arrivals, the
inhabitants of Seaford Town were to come into possession
of land which they had expected at the end of five years.
The actual grants are set out in Appendix V. *
In retrospect, the European immigration policy of the
Jamaican legislature reveals its essential stupidity. That
stupidity lies not in the prejudices held by Jamaican
whites of the day against the ex-slaves those were
detrimental to both sides, but they are understandable in
the pattern of the history. What is not understandable,
was the blindness of those who assumed that the
immigrants would accept the place and the function
described for them by others, and that they would in the
Caribbean, exemplify those virtues of thrift, industry,
honesty, moral rectitude and sobriety which employers
idealised, but which, by all the records of the time, did not
mark the European labourer. And thus, the fantasy of
that anonymous 'Jamaica Man' in his letter to the Editor
of the Liverpool Standard in 1834:
"...let us look at, say thirty of those fifty persons (white
immigrants), attending to their agricultural labour with alacrity
during the hours devoted to work and returning to their
white-washed cottages and happy families in the evening; there
and in their own immediate circle enjoying themselves, as the
labourers of England do, when the toils of the day have ceased.
Man, all over the world, is an imitative animal. The cleanly
cottages the small but neat gardens before the door of the
whites, would first attract notice; then, the decent clothing, the
moral conduct of English families as compared with negroes,
would in time command attention. Then the unwearied industry,
the thought of providing for the future support of themselves and
families, which their habits would exhibit, would be observed; and,
in the course of time, is it unreasonable to hope, imitated?"
Such one-eyed dreaming on the part of absentees, and the
expectations of greater physical security held by resident
whites, were not enough to bring success to a scheme in
which the hopes and aspirations of the immigrants
themselves, and of those blacks they were intended to
displace, were so blatantly ignored.

32. I have found no record of a purchase. Apparently the land was a
gift as the name given to the Township might imply. This is
supported by a reference in the Superintedent's Report for
September 1838 to 1839 in which he refers to the "donor" of the
property. (W.I.R.L Ms. 92).
33. C.O. 137/214. Finlayson to Sligo, 29 December, 1835.
34. Interview with Miss Mabel Swaby, Ferris, Westmoreland. Miss
Swaby lived in Seaford Town from 1934 to 1966. See also, Francis
J. Osborne, op. cit. Chapter 14.
35. C.O. 137/214 Facey to Sligo, 31 December 1835.
36. 137/279 Elgin to Stanley, 5th June 1844. The Governor in this
dispatch is explaining the difficulty of establishing interior town-
ship in general. His remarks, obviously, applied also to the case of
Seaford Town.
37. Seaford Town Record Book. (W.I.R.L. Ms. 92) Record of Meeting
in Seaford Township, Wednesday 20th July, 1836. Broadfoot
received a salary of400 a year, but it was not always paid when
due. See the minutes of the Commissioners meeting of 5th July,
38. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92. Meeting of Commissioners at Seaford Town-
ship, Thursday 15th September, 1836.
39. Loc. cit. Meeting of Commissioners at Seaford Township 21st
October, 1836.
40. By the addition of Messrs. Edward J. Coke, Theodore Stone, John
Whittingham, Hugh Anthony Whitelocke, William Shilletto,
Isaac Jackson, William Cooke, W.S. Grignon, R.E. Evans,
Thomas Tait, Anthony Rearrie. Edward H. Clarke, and Dr. Jelly.
Original members not in attendance at this first meeting were a
Mr. Campbell and Mr. John Purrier.
41. Robert Watt, originally named as Treasurer, had resigned the post
before this first meeting.
*It has not been possible to publish the appendices to this paper.
Professor Hall has however given consent for the full study to be lodged
in West India Reference Library.

42. This apparently, never came to pass.
43. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92.
44. The Royal Gazette, Vol. LVI No. 2. Saturday 4 Saturday 11th
January, 1834. Letter from "A Jamaican Man" to the Editor of
the Liverpool Standard.
45. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92.
46. Ibid.
47 W.I.R.L. Ms. 92. Mr. Broadfoot's Report on the year 30th
September, 1836 to 30th September 1837.
48. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92.
49. In the domestic industry in Europe cotton had been woven with
wool, or flax. In Britain, the development of the pure cotton
textile manufacture had followed the introduction of the improved
machinery of Arkwright and Crompton in the 1760's and
1770's. But this machinery was too large and expensive for
"cottage industry" use. The Germans would have needed more
raw cotton than they could have produced, and more capital than
their ginger crops might support, for the development of any
worthwhile textile industry in the 1840's.
50. See Appendix II*
51. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92.
52. See Appendix IV.*
53. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92. Report for the year September 1839 to
September 1840.
54. Ibid.
55. Not the same as William Grosskopf who had arrived with his wife
Carolina in 1835. William was a butcher. This later Grosscoph
was a tailor. Brown was a labourer.
56. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92. Broadfoot's Report on the number of in-
habitants and the extent of cultivation in Seaford Town. 30
September 1837.
57. See Appendix III under Eldermeyer and Guindesberg. There is no
indication of where the Guindesberg had gone.*
58. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92 Frederick Bonnaman, her son or brother, arrived
in 1849 and was given title to a town lot in July 1854.
59. This view is shared by Francis J. Osborne in his 'History of the
Catholic Church in Jamaica'. Most of the following account is
based on that work.
60. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92 Reports of the Superintendent. September 18:5S
and September 1839.
61. In December, 1837, two Jesuit Missionaries, William Cotham (an
Englishman) and James Dupeyron (a Frenchman) arrived in
Jamaica and established a Mission at Spanish Town. See Francis
Osborne. op. cit. Chapter 13 pp. 10-11.
62. William Cotham to Rev. G. Jenkins, Baker Street, London, 2
October, 1839. I am grateful to Father Osborne who gave me a
copy of this letter.
63. W.I.R.L. Superintendent's Report, September 1840.
64. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92 Minutes of Meeting, 6th April 1839.
65. Andrew Broadfoot, John Gardner, R.E. Evans, John Whitting-
ham, John Wiggen, and A. McBean (who was the doctor visiting
Seaford Town until June, 1837, when he was replaced by a medical
attendant in the Township). W.I.R.L. Ms. 92.
66. W.I.R.L. Votes of the Assembly.
67. See Appendix IV.
68. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92. See, also Table 6.
69. W.I.R.L. Ms. 92.


Exhibition of MEXICAN CRAFT

Paper produced by the Otomi group in the mountainous region of Puebla is
made from the bark of the Amati tree and hand painted in vivid colours with
scenes of daily life in the region.

Chiapas, Venustiano Carranza, Tzotzil Region, Traditional
dress, cotton and wool. Back-strap loom and treadle loom.

land built decorative candle holders made from
lay and baked in a colonial type kiln are painted
vith aniline dyes and glue varnish. Also from the
'uebla region.

land decorated pots made from red clay, traditionally used in
he kitchens of Capula, Michoacan, in central Mexico.

"hotos Andrew Sciandra

Prime Minister

Hon. Michael Manley's

Speech at the Opening of the

Mexican Exhibition

Olympia International Art
January, 1975.

Last year Jamaica was privileged to welcome a great
leader of a great country in President Luis Echeverria.
President Echeverria is one of those visionaries who from
time to time lifts politics from a mere "art of the possible"
to the pursuit of those dreams by which humanity
redefines possibility itself. His vision is of a new world
order in which the First, Second and Third Worlds are
merged into one world because all nations pursue a
common policy of cooperation and mutual respect. The
Charter of Economic Rights which President Echeverria
proposed provided a philosophical cornerstone for the New
World Economic Order which is so ardently desired and
vigorously pursued by the members of the Third World.
To those who have admired the Mexican Revolution it is
not surprising that she should produce leaders who now
seek the export of that Revolution to the world. We in
Jamaica have long admired that Revolution and are
playing our own part in bringing its message of justice to
the councils of the world. It is therefore with a deep sense
of common experience, of a common will forged in the fires
of colonialism and of a common purpose that we welcome
the visit of the great lady, patron of the arts, and
inspiration to the women of Mexico, who heads this great
cultural mission Mrs. Maria Echeverria.
For those who study the intimate connection between
artistic expression and the historical experience, there is
tremendous significance, a significance that is almost
unparalleled in modern art history, in the story of the
Mexican fine arts in general and painting in particular.
We have spoken of the First, the Second and the Third
Worlds. It could be said of the art of the First, the
metropolitan world, that it has sometimes forsaken social
relevance in the pursuit of private fantasy to a point that
borders on self-indulgence. Equally, it can be said of some
parts of the Second World that it has sometimes sought to
compel the artist to forsake private vision the better to
serve social relevance and political purpose.
We of the Third World are surely too embattled, too
beleaguered by poverty and too urgently in search of
national self-confidence to afford the luxury of private
fantasies for their own sake. On the other hand,
colonialism laid such siege to freedom and brought the
human spirit to such bondage in the name of authority,
that we must repudiate systems that assert the
unquestioned primacy of authority for its own sake. Of all
the peoples of the world it is we who need the soaring
vision of the artist to restore our intimacy with our own
archetypes and to illuminate new paths by which we may
proceed to a more just, a more worthy, perhaps a more
heroic future.
Artists at their greatest can be the most profound
prophets of revolution; but if the revolution is to unfold
bringing the full glory of its promise to a people, it needs
constantly to be renewed. Artists, therefore, must never
become the prisoners of the revolution they help to create.
And it is precisely in this sense that the prophets of a
revolution which in turn has not sought to conscript or
enslave them, that the Mexican artist, and indeed the

Centre, on Monday, 13th

Mexican revolution, are supreme examples to the Third
I feel that it might be worthwhile to consider something
of the particular role that the Mexican artist has played in
the development of that country and to see how eloquently
this exhibition reveals that role.
The struggle for man's freedom is usually arrived at in
three stages: first, through an anger which simmers, then
through change which is won either by violent or peaceful
means, and the third stage is the constructive stage,
where a country has to re-build itself on new but firm
foundations. I would ask you then to look at the role
which the Arts has played in Mexico, and for that matter

in any country which has been through the fire, first as an
instrument of passion, then as an instrument of change,
and finally as an instrument of nation-building.
There is probably no more forceful and more
immediately effective way in which people can be stirred
out of a lethargy of the spirit, and forced to recognize the
hopelessness of their situation, and the need for action,
than through the passion which can be conveyed through
the Arts. It is an interesting fact that man often does not
see himself as he is until he is brought face to face with his
own reality, either through the medium of words, as was
done so effectively and with such fervour by Nicolas
Guillen of Cuba and George Campbell and Roger Mais of
Jamaica, or, perhaps even more forcefully through the
power of the brush. Painting, perhaps of all the Arts,
communicates across all the boundaries of ignorance and
illiteracy which are so often the very chains that must be
broken, and which hold in bondage the suffering masses
which have to be aroused and awakened to their own
In the art of Mexico, we see probably the most powerful
use of the artist's passion in creating the climate for a
revolution of ideas, a revolution of the social order,
heralding a new day in which egalitarianism is the
password, and social justice the aim. We see here tonight
the works of men like Orozco and Lozano, works which
speak volumes about the anguish of the Mexican people
before the Revolution. The whole drama of human tragedy
can be comprehended at a glance, and the almost
overpowering emotional content of the canvases strikes
the viewer, even after half a century, as a powerful
stimulant to understanding the need for urgent and
drastic change. Clearly this was a society which had
visibly come to the boil, and which could momentarily
erupt, sweeping away all those features which had for too
long stood in the way of hope.
The second stage in which I feel that the Arts so often
play an important role is as an instrument of
change. The emotional fervour that is aroused by the
artist, and which so often plays a significant role in laying
the foundation for change, can then direct the masses out
of the whole torpor of despair, through a hotbed of anger,
and point the way in which hopes should be directed for
constructive change and change which can be
accommodated in a newly emerging society faced with the

task of setting priorities in order to bring the greatest
good to the greatest number. Here again, the Mexican
artist is leader in the field. With an authenticity that
almost shocks in its realistic reproduction of life as it was,
and life as it ought to be, the Mexican painters of the early
part of this century produced works whose message was
clear to the most unlettered Mexican. The call was for the
elevation of the Common Man from the ghettoes, and the
cane fields, and the slums. Here was painting that
portrayed him as MAN, with all of the same needs and
longings and passions and hopes as the few who had until
then enjoyed all the benefits of the land. Man was
projected as a being suddenly awakened to the fact that
certain rights which for centuries he had relinquished in
his own mind as impossible of achievement were his as of
right, by virtue of his very existence as a human being.
The strong line of social criticism that is evident through
much of the work on display, proved to be a powerful
weapon for change in a society where the message had to
be conveyed in the simplest most visible way. At the time
of the French Revolution, it was the inflammatory
pamphlets of literary giants like Voltaire and Rousseau
that created the intellectual climate for change: in 19th
century Britain, it was writers like Charles Dickens who
were the vehicle through which the society became aware
of the horrors of child labour and the conditions of the
poor: and here in Jamaica, the reggae, the music of the
ghetto, because it is in so many ways the only emotional
outlet of the people, is the strongest social commentary in
Jamaica today.
Finally, I would ask you to consider with me the final
stage in which the power of the Arts is so often seen -
and that is the artist as an instrument of nation-building.
And here we see the magnificence of a Diego Rivera and a
Siqueiros, reaching back into the colourful past of Mexico,
drawing deep on the rich cultural heritage of both the
Indian and the Spanish aspects of Mexican life, and
creating for the Mexican people in their murals a stirring
spectacle of the new as an extension of the finest
possibilities of the old. The extensive use made of the full
range of Mexico's enormously rich culture, both at the
level of historical fact, and also the vast Indian folk lore
and legend of the country, all combine to produce broad
canvases that fire the imagination, and which must have
provided the fuel for the fire that kept the spirit of
nationalism alive in those early days of the Revolution,
when so many sweeping changes were made that laid the
foundation for what is now modern Mexico. These
changes that brought about free public education,
regulation of hours and wages for workers, Government's
right to reclaim ownership of all land and resources
belonging to the nation, the whole programme of agrarian

reform, saw the emergence of the new Mexican, proud of
his past, educated to take pride in all aspects of his
heritage, both the strength, energy and vitality of the
Indian strain, and the elegance and natural good taste of
the Spanish side of his culture.
The display which we see here tonight is a clear
indication of the creative potential that was unleashed in
Mexico in the early part of this Century. Jamaica too went
through its baptism by fire some 30 years later, with the
turbulence of the mid-thirties, the birth of the two
political parties and the emergence of the trade union
movement. We too had our artists making strong
statements on canvas, in wood and in stone, on the state
of the nation, the anguish of the masses, and pointing to
the urgent need for change and to the spirit of rebellion
that was rising up across the land. If I may be forgiven for
referring to Edna Manley's Negro Aroused, which now
stands in the newly opened National Gallery, this could be
seen as a symbol of the rising expectations of a generation
that was no longer prepared to be deprived of its basic
human rights. Both our countries have over the years had
changes in focus: we have had to re-assess our goals and
re-order our priorities: but the constant, underlying all our
efforts and struggle, has been the spirit of creative
expression which has continued to point the way either in
dance, or song, or in verse, or perhaps, most
spectacularly, in the arena of the Fine Arts, particularly in
the strong mural tradition which Mexico enjoys, where
the man on the street is constantly being reminded of his
beginnings, his struggles, his overcoming, and his
aspirations. The Jamaican poet Hugh Carberry once
"It takes a mighty fire
To create a great people.
It takes a mighty fire
To smelt true steel.
To create and temper steel
Needs patience and endurance.
The mould is not yet made perhaps
That can unite and make the people one.
But more important than the mould
Is the temper of the steel,
The spirit of the people.
And when that steel is smelted
And when that steel is tempered
And when that steel is cast
What a people that people will be!"
Jamaica is honoured to have been given an opportunity
to view this magnificent display of the finest of Mexican
Art, and I have very great pleasure in declaring this
exhibition open.

Olympia -d, f'i..
International "
Art Centre


Recollections of theM XICAN ART

By Trevor Roche Burrowes

When I went to Mexico the only address I had, apart
from that of my school, was the address of Leonora
Carrington, a well-known artist in Mexican art circles
whose work was represented in the recent Mexican art
exhibition here.
Throughout the nearly two years that I spent in Mexico
Leonora's house was a second home for me. I have many
happy recollections of conversation, social gatherings and
outings in the company of her family.
It was through her and her friends that I became
intimately aware of the Mexican cultural world. Leonora
had been a good friend of Frida Kahlo, Remedias Varro,
Octavio Paz (whom I met at her house).She had known
Diego Rivera in fact there was no important Mexican
artist that she did not know more or less well.
These experiences, together with my frequent visits to
the museum of modern art (from which the majority of
exhibits were chosen) as well as visits to galleries have
made me very familiar with the modern art of Mexico. I
got to know intimately the family of Coronel I lived in a
house owned by the niece of Siqueros which he visited
On the other hand, my art conservation training at
Centro Paul Coremans gave me a wider understanding of
the history of Mexican art from pre-Columbian times
through the colonial era. We studied very much the
restoration of colonial paintings. These experiences gave
one a glancing familiarity with the entire range of Mexican
art its past, and its present and makes it possible even
to project into its future.
Until the time when I first became acquainted with
Mexican art, I had never seen the living art of a
revolutionary era. Although the political revolution in

Mexico has been seriously eroded, the far reaching
cultural implications of the revolution still remains. There
is no other country with as integrated and spiritual a
revolution as Mexico. It was based on peasant values,
peasant culture.
Most of the work in the Mexican exhibition was dated
from the 1930's up until the present time. The 30's was
internationally a period of upheaval. Mexico had the
tradition, history and government to make good use of
this fact. Rivera, Siqueros, Orozco, the three greats of this
era, left numerous murals throughout the country and
spearheaded a tradition of mural painting which is still
being carried on.
I had been nurtured on the sophisticated, modern art of
the United States of America and at first Mexican art
seemed rather strange to me. It took time to appreciate its
richness, weight, subtlety, seriousness and devotion to
genre painting. However, continued travel between
Mexico and the United States made me aware of how
integrally related Mexican painting is to the Mexican
environment. Mexican art reflects the country's blood
past vividly. Most of the art of Mexico, is a living
testament of the hopes, aspirations, pain, suffering and
death of those who believe in the revolution and care for
the fate of the Mexican peasant. Because blood, sweat and
pain are portrayed without any attempt to spare the
viewer any of the ugliness that goes with these
experiences, Mexican art sometimes seem morbid to the
westernized Jamaican, who yearns for the frivolities of a
more genteel school of painting. But the history of
Mexico, is written in her art. This follows directly, the
tradition of man's art from he first made his appearance
upon the planet earth.

t- ) -. i~

Photos Wenty Bowen

SL~S~brPC~~R4~;-F- ~e~lCL~IP~~IT~'~~?j~~lR
~*~.pc. `ti

Artist: OROZCO
This painting bears a great resemblance to the one of Orozco
done by Siqueros. There is a common emphasis oh the use of the
diagonal to create the illusion of speed. Orozco was a very
powerful painter. Some qualities of his use of paint dark reds
and browns make him more typical of Mexico than any other
Mexican artist.

MY TWO NIECES: 1940, Above
This genre picture, no less because of its naivete is very
interesting from a Jamaican point of view. It depicts an aunt
sitting down and flanked by her two standing nieces. They are
wearing simple dresses with puffy sleeves and large collars. The
pose is not unlike that of many Jamaican family portraits and
photographs. The older girl has the Indian cast of features one
sees frequently in Mexico. The banana trees in the background
bring home the similarity to Jamaica.
Stylistically, the picture is a masterpiece. Every square inch of the
surface is sensitively apprehended or felt. There is careful
attention to detail. Every leaf is shown. The arrangement of form
is very pleasing. The banana leaves which flank the head of the
Aunt begins an imaginary circle which encompasses the major
portion of the figures. This arrangement is logically terminated by
the powerful forms of the shirt which anchor the picture.

MEXICO CITY, 1949, Juan O'Gorman: This painting reminds me of
many views which I lived in, saw and photographed, during my
two year sojourn in Mexico City as a student at the Centro Paul
Coremans. It is the Mexico of massive, multi-storied buildings
dwarfing the colonial buildings. The colonial building in the
middle of the picture, (and the equestrian statue it relates to)
appears to be one which the artist studied from personal
observation. He has captured the feeling of modern Mexico
which has its own special magic. American influences of the last
two decades, have so far not been able to destroy this look,
which is still typical of much of Mexico City. The artist's portrayal
of an Indian, with a trowel in one hand and a blue-print in the
other, standing on a high wall on which is scattered the
paraphernalia of the building construction trade, shows a
refreshing candour in the representation of a dark-skinned
Mexican. The tendency of many Mexican artists who paint
Indians to lighten them, is lacking. The artist seems to be making
a statement that the Indian is the builder of the Mexican society.
(Tempera on masonite)

THE DEAD, 1930 Below
Technique: OIL ON CANVAS
These swirling forms must surely be among the most powerful in
western art. Orozco is the revolutionary artist par excellence.

Artist: XAVIER GUERRERO. 1948 Technique: OIL ON CANVAS
It is more interesting to study this picture as a revelation through
form of the artist's pre-occupations. For me the title "Hunter in
the Jungle" is not convincing. The convulsions of the plant forms
reminds one of biological structures and seem to emanate from
the personal imagination of a sophisticated urbanite. The man
here depicted as an Indian in the jungle appears to be typical of
Indian household help in the city. The painter was a man of great
technical sophistication and had the power of making form tell a
story. He was responsible for imparting the knowledge of the
fresco technique to Diego Rivera.

"OROZCO", by Siqueros 1947 is a very sensitive study the
one-armed giant of Mexican art. This is the face of a moreno,
dark-skinned, broad-nosed, fiercely and passionately involved with
the freedom of Mexico.

Technique: OIL ON CANVAS
"Maya Cabin," by Julio Casteliano, has
something of certain works by our own Carl
Abrahams. It is a high level genre painting,
reminding one of great European counter-
parts of the 16th to the 19th centuries. It is a
slice of Mexican life. All figures are doing
something different. We may read many
interesting stories in their actions. Central to
the picture are some large butterflies which
some naked youths on a tree are trying to
catch. On the ground one of the nude youths
is seen astride a capsized pitcher of water. A
woman is reclining on a hammock in the
centre of picture. Most traditional Mayan huts
have apsidal corners, door to front and back
hammocks in the centre.(1942).

Artist: JOSE LUIS CUEVAS, 1972'
Cuevas is very popular with the Avant
garde in Mexico. One sees his work
frequently in galleries. I did not meet
him but I felt that he was fairly
accessible. One felt that older artists
like Siqueros and others of his
generation had become elevated to
superhuman proportion. Cuevas does
a lot of drawings and prints. He has
mastered his technique. He likes to
work with a simple underlying geo-
metry. There is a basic grid formation
in this print. There are roughly four
divisions going from left to right. The
first division includes a head wedged
in by dark, geometric form on top of a
Picasso-like head. The second in-
cludes a central male head and
utensils topped by a floating figure.
Next comes a head in a window which
is morbidly compelling and next is a
narrow strip of wall over the head of
an old woman with a sea-egg like hat.

three basic divisions. At the bottom or
base of the print, there is a long
continuous strip which binds all the
sections together. AM

Artist: OLGA COSTA, 1941
Technique: OIL ON CANVAS
A buxom Mestizo stands slightly off-centre on a fluffy carpet.
Behind her is a giant-sized bouquet whose branches inclined to
the left, echoing the inclination of her head. It infers a
relationship between the bride and the flowers. Her work
reminds one of another female painter, Frida Kahlo. There is a
brooding, mysterious quality about this picture.

Artist: GUILLERMO MEZA, 1950
Technique: OIL ON CANVAS
The artist is well-known in Mexico for his expressionistic .
portrayal of the suffering of the Mexican people. This painting is
expressive of the gloomy and the repression typical of his style.
The faces covered with sheets have a forbidding coldness. There
is no relief in the foreground posed in a diagonal position, creates
a particularly pathetic touch to the painting. All figures seem to
be about the unwilling victims of some sacrificial pagan rite: .

Grotesque. Bizzare, Siquieros is a famous (to some
notorious) critic of social injustice. For his pains he
has spent a good deal of time in jail in the very
Mexico which now honours him. Perhaps this is
why he can make such a forceful commentary on
the savage -persecution of the black man in the
United States. In this unusual picture, the artist has
depicted Cain as the mob of white people with
grotesque bird-like features, in the act of removing
a black man from jail to lynch hin. His interest in the
black man is typical of the Mexican peasant and

Artist: DIEGO RIVERA, 1974
Technique: OIL ON CANVAS
S' This painting is typical of Riveria's work as he is noted for
large-scale socio-political murals. It reveals his capability of
t f tr .sensitive observation of poor Indians who he has captured very
feelingly in this picture of mood. One has to look several times
before one realizes how many figures are concealed among the
A O branches of the tree as if taking us by surprise. I have found this
quality of concealment very much in the Mexican character. I
was very impressed with the rhythms with which Rivera
endowed the branches of the tree, integrating them with the
rhythm of the people while keeping them at once realistic and
expressionistic, when I viewed this painting in Mexico City.
Rivera is one of the three great revolutionary painters of Mexico.
Sh t In this painting his colours are more subtle and the theme more
'\ personal than in this vivid murals which adorn Mexico City.

Artist: FRIDA KAHLO, 1939
Technique: OIL ON CANVAS
Friday Khalo was the wife of Diego Rivera. She does not, however,
have the wild and rambling imagination of Diego. As with fellow
female artist Remedias Varro (whose work was unfortunately
absent from the Mexican art exhibition shown in Jamaica) her
imagination is usually contained within a quasi-naturalistic
format. Our first impression on seeing them is that the represent
believable situations we don't have to stretch our minds too
far to understand the images. Closer examination, however, may
startle the viewer.
Friday Kahlo was involved in an accident which affected her
previously for the rest of her life. This painting of the two Fridas,
set as if in a photographer's studio, is very disturbing in its
portrayal of the two hearts with their severed arteries. The fact
that the two hearts are connected by an artery emphasises the
sameness of the two Fridas.

Technique: OIL ON CANVAS
This painting to me is done in the best of
the Mexican tradition. It is a work of
subtle and careful modelling, monu-
mental volumes. This solitary figure
seated against a wall has the quality of ABOVE
architecture. It shows the discipline of DAWN WITH MOLLUSC
cubist training. The legs are like iron Artist: PEDRO FRIDELBERG
pipes. The fingers are like the piples of an Technique: SILK SCREEN
organ. Each curve is carefully shaped.
Cubist training encouraged artists to Fridelberg was not born in Mexico but he has become very popular in the modern art world.
strengthen the spaces in between the His works are like jewels. He uses vibrating colours to create his fanciful pictures which
object being portrayed. This masterpiece remind one of a toy world. One point perspective emphasized by coloured bands in the
of mood is very Mexican in feeling and background and floor which have a vanishing point somewhere near the middle of the
reveals the artist's deep sensitivity to his picture. If we half-close our eyes and look at the buildings, they take on the basic shape of a
people and their culture. butterfly. His paintings have a psychodelic quality.

I -" "..i

My recollection of this painting which I did
not get the opportunity to view in Jamaica,
is one of rich browns and hot greys,
expressive of the volcanic larvae and the
nature of the Mexican landscape. The
.volcano is painted in diagonal strokes which
in contrast to the submerged brush-work
and organic convulsions of the hills in the
middle of the painting and the placid
foreground, help to suggest the violence of
eruption. This is also a reflection of the
Mexican character. The painter was the
founder of the labour movement in Mexico.
He was also a writer, philosopher, a
revolutionary and an intellectual among
other things. His influence is felt in the
modern school of Mexican painting. This
width of interest should inspire Jamaican
artists who so often isolate themselves from
intellectual stimulation and scientific
S --_ themes.


The artist bears some affinity to the kinetic
artists and like them makes colours go backward
and forward in space. He has a love for
geometric forms which are rounded at the
corners. This vision is typical of much of the
public art in modern Mexico. The newly created
subway system for example, has large graphics
which, while severe, are also comforting to the
eye and give a very clean appearance. The artist
obviously likes to experiment with the forms of
modern advertising. The letter B is used
decoratively, rather than to express any parti-
cular meaning.




. ., ., ,
-*. 6 r A'
*1 :7

W *.
.4. S' Atti4 .~
~IA .*r


By Trevor Roche Burrowes

As with all countries in which 20th century attitudes in
art have been allowed to take root, there is an absence of
genre paintings. There is more genre painting (painting
which depicts everyday people going about everyday
activities) in Jamaica, due to our relative isolation from
western trends in art.
These works do not show great involvement with the
revolution. Men in brown army fatigues, smoking endless
cigars, talking with peasants, addressing large crowds,
inspecting farms, machinery, do not excite the
imagination of the Cuban easel painter. He is more
involved with the world of his private imagination, coaxed
by the revolution but not wholly affirming it.
There are several paintings of Che who seems to take

the place of the traditional Catholic images of Jesus the
martyr. On the other hand there are no representations of
Fidel the earthy and hearty prime minister, who the
world thinks of whenever Cuba is mentioned. I have seen
magazine reproductions of works by female Cuban artists
who deal more directly with the phenomena of the
revolution. Otherwise the paintings are presented in a
thread-bare and proletarian fashion almost all the
frames are very simple strips which flatter the picture less
than would more sumptuous frames.
A very heartening sign is that all these Cuban artists
hold responsible and important positions in the cultural
institutions of their country. This is a precedent that we in
Jamaica could well follow.

Technique: OIL

This was the largest painting in the
exhibition, based on the same theme as
"Avantguard from Oriente to Occidente",
and displaying the same fluid lines.
However the use of colours all in flat
planes seems closely related to the poster
tradition from which many of the Cuban
artists sprang; the use and blending of
basic shades of cold blue-greens and
greys against warm brown-reds, creates
a powerful and balanced colour com-
S... position.

Photos Daily News & Carl Griffiths

'0 7 Artist. BENITEZ ADIGIO Technique: OIL SIZE: 4' 11" x 3' 10"
S. There is a picture on the wall a painting within a painting. The
subject of this painting is Manuel Azcunce who died in the
revolution. This hard-edged trompe I'oiele painting pushes out at
us with the intensity of the subject's face rather than invites us in.
Artist: LESBIA VENT DUMOIS Technique: OIL SIZE: 3' 11" x 3' 11"
Another interesting painting by Lesbia, also on a bridal theme. It
is a pity that this painter's involvement with ornate textures and
sumptuous forms of a more baroque era was not emphasised by
correspondingly ornate frames. The head to the lower left
appears to be a self-portrait.
Artist: CARMELO GONZALES Technique: OIL SIZE: 3' 7" x 2' 8'
This artist shows a distinct predeliction for forms in suspended
animation. Train track, rails, stones, debris are shown floating in
air, apparently due to an explosion nearby. The objects in the air
are, however, painted with' minute realism which gives them a
timeless quality as if they could remain suspended forever. As
with the "Fishing Moon" Gonzales uses a single figure in a rocky,
moon-like landscape which is painted with slightly greater
realism than is the main figure. Here, a soldier, holding a rifle,
stands in a crater, undaunted by the shower of falling objects all
around him.

4 A
4 '

Of all the Cuban artists, Mariano Rodriquez uses
warm and tropical colours. He is the only immed-
iately recognizable "island" painter; appealing

strongly to the senses rather than to the intellect.
His exhibited works were in tempera as well as oil,
and displayed a faultless sense of composition.

.-. Technique: OIL
SIZE: 3' 2" x 2' 7"
j = A figure in the pose of a seated fisher,
4 leaning his head against his arm as if
he had fallen asleep. At this point,
however, surrealism steps in the
40 .- i figure is floating high above the rocky,
barren, land which closely resembles
the moon. Instead of a head the figure
appears to be crowned by a round,
Sfeatureless ball. A large rift in the
ground with splinter-sharp, jagged
edges, together with long shadows
and gloomy colours, lend a disturbing
'- atmosphere.

Technique: INK
SIZE: 3' 1"x 111"
This is a picture of four revolutionary heroes on horseback. The
figure in front, who I believe is Camillio Torres, is holding a flag of
Cuba. There is a mastery of line, visual wit and sophistication at
work in this drawing. The artist achieves tension between two and
three dimensional design by such devices as that used to the lower
right of picture. We see a plant which grows broad at the base,
gradually narrowing towards the top. Because it slightly overlaps
the right edge of the horse's face in the foreground, it is
re-established as a straight growing plant. At the same time it
continues visually into another plant which is overlapped by two
horses in the middle ground. And this makes it seem to be
passage-way like a road or a train track going from the foreground
to the background. Clouds of smoke in the background integrate
with forms in the foreground.

This reminds one of the work of contemporary Nigerian artist
Seven-Seven Oshogbo and the Jamaican Francis both of whom are
untrained. There is a naive, almost doodley quality in the technique.
As with the above mentioned artists on the other hand, it is very
intense and exuberant. The basic form is like a tree but central to it is
a circle with flame-like crown like the sun. Branch-like forms to the
sides of the circle are worked in C-like portions of a circle. Some go
to the right, some go to the left, where they meet there is an eye-like
effect which reminds one of the work of Ernst Fuchs of Austria.

.7 r -1 -

SIZE: 1' 8" x 1' 7"
Tight, pleasing composition. Surrealism is to be seen in the
dreamlike transformation in scale the people being small, the
two dogs in the background as large as hills. The woodcut
technique is interestingly used. A certain amount of smudging is
used to heighten the drama and to better delineate forms. The
moon illustrates this also.

SIZE: 1' 5" x 1' 10"
Grotesque representation of apes two on top with open
mouths and two underneath with serene expressions. The two
apes to the right of the picture have human hands. White paper is
used to make the apes ears set up tension between the depth and
flatness of the painting. Another spacial device is the use of
planes which are at once superimposed on, and merging into the
background. A device much used by the cubists, is clearly seen in
the left, lower portion of the paper. It tends to give one the
feeling of a drawing within a drawing. The way in which the
bottom of this square coincides with the curve of the shoulder,
emphasizes the paper-like illusion, as it gives the effect of curling
paper. The areas which are left out allow the eye to escape into
the rest of the picture, thereby creating a feeling of three
dimensional space.

Technique: INK
SIZE: 1' 10" x 2' 4"
A painting montage. A large figure to right of picture
greets your eyes. It looks like a grinning monster the
barb of the barbed wire. But it also has connotations of a
star or a flower. The flower image comes as one sizes up
the stem-like shapes underneath the star figure. Slightly
above centre, its top lining up with the right most petal,
its bottom on centre horizontal of picture, is a band of
lettering which pushes the star figure to the right and is
like a stem to a flower or a handle to a blade.

GOL MUGRV MEA ofteIsiueo*aac
*n Decmbe 4,17 The mea wa prsne by Mrs.
Edn Maly Gol .edallis. Th 0rpoa re60 by Mr0.

fllo s
Sr 00 ola il'

- a GOLD MUSGRAVE iH M EDALB in recognitioni ofiyour
m^BBCjagn~iroBSRifficet cieeen s ruly rea Caibbean poet
06 00~tB 'M S S .0B'~iB^E~~i^^

.6n the ocaso of you 0ii 0oteIsiueo aac
on 04th S@ebe,194

kF. I;

, 4

A journey through the Caribbean sometimes has, for a
man from these shores, something homely and familiar
about it, something of the workaday, like emerging into
one of those communal patios, shared by several dwelling
houses patios, so characteristic of old mansions in old
towns. A folkloric outline, or folklore in outline.
But a Caribbean like this cannot be the authentic
Caribbean. It is rather (and I would rather it were not!)
the conventional tourist Caribbean, dancing to the sound
of the African drum and the Merengue to amuse our new
colonizers, who spoke English instead of Spanish .... For
myself (since I have to give some account of my activities
in this mare nostrum), I will say that more than a
thousand times I have found the Caribbean arid, with
neither guitars nor dancing, covered with the blood of the
slaves, bowed under the sinister swish of the masters'
whip, that whirls like a cyclone above the head of that
Liberty of bronze and stone menacing us from New York
harbour; or I could say the Caribbean has become fixed for
me in the words of my song, in a poem of terrible hope:
Communal yard, apartment block of the Caribbean,
with my harsh guitar,
I am here to try to urge
a song from my breast.
A song of dreams released,
a simple song of death and of life
to greet the blood-stained future,
red with blood like the sheets, like the thighs
like the bed of a woman newly delivered
For what is irreversibly true is that the Caribbean is
bubbling now more than ever like a cauldron of prophecies
about to come true; an epic awakening. Our own Jose
Martf saw the future clearly when he set his heart on
halting the advance of imperialism in this dramatic
archipelago, and so prevent it from falling with even more
force, because of the added impetus it would have gained
in these islands, on the whole of our America. He felt
within him, in his beaten and wounded body, the physical
misery of our West Indian people, our anguished grief. A
pain not only of bleeding tissue, but of men and women
scattered, with no firm hold, with no support for their
For several centuries after the Discovery of the New
World, millions of human beings were dumped in these
lands, and the original inhabitants, the true owners, were
swept away without mercy. Africa, through no fault of her


own, filled with her blood American veins drained by the
brutality of the blond devils from Europe. If, in countries
like Mexico and Peru generally the more resistent part
of the continent -, they did not quite succeed in erasing
the terrible marks left by that clash, in other lands whose
culture was less deeply embedded, they replaced this
culture with slaves resistent to the lash and the sun.
However, there was something worse than the physical
crime, and that was the spiritual crime. In this same
period of which we have just spoken, the people of the
West Indies have lived in ignorance of each other, kept
separate by the evil imperialist faith that divided them,
that confronted them, face to face, like quiet ghosts. Mr.
Haiti, Mrs. Jamaica, the Misses Guadalupe and
Martinique, Mr. Barbados, Mrs. Cuba .... What can they
say to each other in their English, in their patois, in their
French, in their Spanish, or in their papiamento? They
have said little (or nothing) to each other up to now, but
now they are beginning to say more.
For these perchance brief, almost timid meetings, like
those between relatives who know they are close to each
other although they may have seen each other but rarely,
will finally explode into fragrant fiestas, and we will know
each other in the depths of our souls, as peoples who live
so close together must. This means union, it signifies
unity, it is indispensable mutual understanding, because
many are the dangers that will ambush us. Though
Imperialism may have had to give up some of its
command and its pride, though it may have found itself
having to abandon lands and waters, plantations laden
with fruit and seas full of fish, it still has not been
abandoned by the thirst to exploit the labour of others, it
still has not been abandoned by the desire to return and
gobble up the leftovers on the plate, and there are many
wholesome morsels left. The imperial power makes use not
so much of its forces of occupation as of the subtle poison
of a culture that is not ours, with which it seeks to
penetrate into our world, to influence it and direct it once
more. It is a sort of infiltrating virus, as monstrously
efficient as it is invisible, under whose deadly influence we
have sometimes denied our own creation, our own
intimate way of being. We say this unafraid that we shall
be attacked for worshipping a narrow nationalism, nor yet
for denying the positive role of certain proximities. No!
We recognize that these influences can be useful, and that
they often govern the play of intellectual relations in the
world, as much in artistic creation as in the forging of new
structures, of processes more suited to the ends for which
they are intended. Nevertheless, this will never be at the
expense of our innermost essential being: Marti, whose
name can never be omitted from any discussion in the
affairs of America, allows for grafting from outside, but
just as long as the trunk is our own. On these bases rests
Cuban cultural policy under the guidance of Fidel Castro.
Finally, I must tell you that for me personally this visit
is the realization of a dream. Since my childhood 70
years ago the island in which the three great men of our
history found a land in which to live, and one of them a
woman in whom to prolong his glorious life, this island
has shone unwaveringly in my thoughts. Now I have
found you, and I can ask for nothing, in these last years of
my life, that would fulfill my ambitions more than what I
now hold in my hands without having had to ask for it.
Thank you for this living affection, thank you for this
warm expression of friendship, which I cannot imagine as
directed to me, but rather at my people, to whom I owe
my life and to whom I owe all my art!


When I see and touch myself
I, only vesterdav Destitute John.
and today John with Everything,
I turn my eves, I look
I see and touch myself
and I ask myself how could it be.

I have, let' see,
I have the pleasure of walking about in' country,
master of all there is in it,
looking very closely at what before
I didn t and could 't have.
Sugar crop I can say,
countryside I can say,
city I can say,
army I can say,
now mine forever and yours, ours
and a broad resplendence
of sio rays, stars, flowers.
I hare, let's see,
I have the pleasure of going
I, a peasant, worker, simple person,
have the pleasure of going
(as one example)
to a bank to talk with the manager,
not in English,
not in seTior,
but to say comparnero to him as it's done in Spanish.
I have, let's see,
being black
nobod canl stop me
at the door of a dance hall or a bar.
Or at a hotel desk
shout at me there is no room,
a small room and not a great big room,
a small room where I can rest.
I have, let's see,
there is no rural police
to catch me and lock me up in a barracks
nor grab me and throw me from imy land
to the middle of the highway.

I have, well, like I have the land I have the sea,
no country club,
no high-life,
no tennis and no vacht,
but from beach to beach and wave to wave,
immense blue, open, democratic:
in brief, the sea.

I have, let's see,
I have already learned to read
to count,
I have, I have already learned to write
and to think
and to laugh

I have, I now have
a place to work
and earn
what I need to eat
I have, let's see,
I have what I had to have.

*I HAVE [TENGO] One of three poems by
Nicolas Guillen published in the JAMAICA JOURNAL
MARCH 1973. Translated by Keith Ellis.

Towards a Theory of Literature in

by J.R. Pereira of the Department of Spanish, University
of the West Indies
In approaching the question of a theory of literature in
the Cuban Revolution, there are certain basic political
premises that must be understood. The first could be
stated baldly: that without the Revolution, there would be
no particular 'theory of literature' to examine. From this
one is led to several other premises: that the
writer/intellectual is, in terms of the vanguard of the
Revolution, lagging behind the political sector; that the
political vanguard, by its creation of the Revolution itself
has certain responsibilities and rights; that the
fundamental right of the Revolution to exist takes
precedence over all others; that the objectives of the
Revolution are essentially good and in the best interests of
the majority of Cubans (i.e. truly democratic). These
premises cannot be ignored because the Revolution has as
its first cause the political revolution.

In the light of the above, it is not surprising that the
first articulation of a literary theory for the Revolution
should come from the political leadership. When, by 1961,
Cubans were beginning to realize the revolutionary and
socialist direction of the new government, the writers were
as much an element split in their sympathies as most of
the bourgeois sectors of the society, since the writers were
then as much a part of the bourgeisie or petit-bourgoisie
as they tend to be in the rest of Latin America. They
therefore exhibited some of the apprehensions of their
class towards the radicalization of the Revolution and the
role of the writer. It was in this context that Fidel Castro
sought to indicate this new role of the writer in discussions
with them in mid-1961.
In these much-quoted Words to the Intellectuals, the
political leader divides the literary issue into two aspects:
form and content. On form, he envisages no problems, no
restrictions: "Everyone agreed that liberty of form should
be respected".' However, the political vanguard is
concerned with defining the content of literature, within
the premises already stated. Castro sums it up in the most
quoted sentence of his discourse: "Within the Revolution,
everything; against the Revolution, nothing".2 The writer
was being given a very wide ambit precisely because
Castro saw the Revolution as a situation of greater
liberation, socio-economic as well as intellectual, so that
its objective is the fostering of creative talent. Hence it is
not 'for' but a much broader 'within' that the writer can
create. However, with the premise that the Revolution is
the interest of the entire nation, there would be no scope
for themes that were counter-revolutionary. This is
scarcely a theory. It merely defines the lower limit of
thematic content, and is understandable in an atmosphere
of militant resistance prevalent in 1961 when the
Revolution was physically subjected to invasion from
U.S.-assisted exiles and to counter-revolutionary sabo-
tage and insurgence within the country. Throughout his
address, Castro shows a keen sense of the need to avoid
rigid rules or theories for the writer. He therefore limits
himself to exhorting the writer to strive to make his work
accessible to the majority of people, and concomitantly to

strive to write so that people would have an increasingly
clearer understanding of his communication. This idea has
been developed by many writers as the need to provide an
interpretative function: the writer must explain the
Revolution to his readership by exploring the problems,
particularly the human and broad political issues.
As an indication of the contribution of the Revolution to
the liberties and scope of its writers, one has only to look
at the opportunities that have been afforded the writer as
a direct result of Revolutionary policy. Arguing from the
position that culture, like the economy, was the
patrimony and entitlement of the entire nation, the
Revolution set about establishing the machinery to assist
in the implementation of this theory of mass culture.
While the literary tradition is merely one aspect of the
cultural umbrella under which perhaps the mass-media
genre of films plays a crucial role, the Revolution was as
assiduous in creating a climate of encouragement in
writing as in other areas of artistic creativity. The Consejo
Nacional de Cultura was established as a governmental
agency for cultural promotion. The Union of Artists and
Writers was encouraged. Casa de las Americas was set up
as a cultural catalyst for Latin America. Both of these last
two have their regular journals of literature and ideas:
Uni6n and Casa de las Americas. The Cuban Book
Institute was established in 1961 as a publishing house for
a wide range of literary as well as other material. The size
of editions was expanded and the cost of books was kept
at a figure within popular means. The writer found himself
less bound by the economics of book-publishing, so
restrictive in the average Third World capitalist society.
He also found, apart from the two journals already
mentioned, other platforms for publication, including the
literary monthly El Caiman B6rbudo, or, until 1964 the
weekly Lunes de Revoluci6n, or the current Gaceta de
Cuba, as well as smaller journals. He had, in addition,
several incentives by way of prizes, of which the most
famous, because of its international dimension, is the
Casa annual competition in 5 genres (recently expanded to
six), but with several other national literary competitions.
Award-winning material is regularly published, so that in

the first ten years of Revolution, publications included 40
novels, 70 short-story collections, 130 books of poetry and
60 plays.3 Nor is this a mere quantitative exercise. The
ferment of the Revolution has given qualitative
inspiration as well.
Such a situation can scarce be regarded as oppressive to
the writer, although it is always against the background
principle of "against the Revolution, nothing". Nor did
the incentives stop there. There have been several
international conferences on literary and cultural topics
held in Havana, with visits from most of the outstanding
Latin American and European writer/intellectuals. The
Cuban writer therefore finds himself far better exposed to
the trends in literature and ideas, which add to the
ferment of his ideological development and guards against
provincialism. The broader cultural awareness of Cubans,
partly through the expansion of the mass-media and of all
levels of education, partly through the encouragement of
other areas of cultural manifestation: dance, music,
posters, films, art, give the writer a broader base of
readership, so that his audience is relatively large, if still
restrictive. Implementing the theory of mass culture then
gives the writer both the machinery for communication
and readership disposition. Since much of this is the direct
creation of the Revolutionary government, it is
understandable that the government should proclaim its
right to survive first and foremost, above the freedom of
the writer to undermine by counter-revolutionary
Arising out of the premise that the writer was
attitudinally bourgeois at the time of the Revolution, one
of the basic theories of the writer's task has to do with his
self-development towards a Revolutionary consciousness,
more from his context and involvement within a society
than from a proletarian perspective. Retamar underscores
the writer's task of becoming a Revolutionary which Fidel
spoke of in 1961 as a worthwhile objective. Says Retamar:
"It is not enough to be verbally for the Revolution to be a
Revolutionary intellectual, nor even enough to carry out
deeds befitting a revolutionary, from agricultural work to
defending the country, although these are conditions sine
qua non. The intellectual is also obliged to assume a
revolutionary intellectual position".4 It is a sloughing off
of the erstwhile middle-class prejudices, however
unconscious. Roque Dalton sees it as a process of
activity/consciousness, so that he can argue "the
poet, to write poetry today, must become a worker in the
nearest cement factory".5 Not to understand cement, but
to understand the perspective of the working class and to
join himself to the constructive task. Dalton sees this as
the only way to lose bourgeois traits. In keeping with
these theories, the writer in Cuba has found himself
generally embarking on such activity/consciousness
reorientation of values. Thus most speak now of and out of
working class situations, since as citizens they are being
incorporated into one class working towards the ideal of
the new man.
A vital aspect of this remaking of self is the writer's
re-adjustment of his sense of individualism to the sense of
community. Retamar describes it thus: "The revolution-
ary consciousness is characterized ... by having passed
from the individual to the collective attitude".6 So, to
some writers, the sense of the strong individualism of the
traditional writer in a capitalist society is not the main
concern. Artistic freedom is expressed in a different
perspective, as Edmundo Desnoes affirms: "It is not an
individual liberty, but a social one; not the affirmation of
my liberty against society but for society".7 For him then,
as for many Revolutionary writers, absolute freedom
cannot exist in the Revolution, since freedom is
conditioned by the objectives and nature of the
Revolution. It goes back to Castro's summary and reflects

the sentiments that led to the objections by Oscar
Collazos and others to the views expressed by the
Peruvian novelist, Mario Vargas Llosa, that the writer
functions as subvert of whatever system exists." Juan
Marinello for example, rejects these views as the cutting
off of the writer from social events and an incapacity to
positive involvement.9 Indeed, Cuban literary theory
proclaims the constructive integration of the writer into
the total political and social system, as opposed to his
alienation within a capitalist system as operating
elsewhere in Latin America. It thereby sees no logical
value to the counter-revolutionary writer, the individ-
ualistic writer unresponsive in a positive way to the
collective. The alienating angst must here give way to the
positive man in a dialectical struggle towards socialist
Castro in 1961 touched on this submission of egoism to
the collective good, the placing of the Revolution as the
first priority, when he declared: "But the Revolution isn't
asking sacrifices of the creative genius; on the contrary,
the Revolution says: place this creative spirit at the
service of your work, without fear that your work will be
cut short. But if one day you think that your work will be
cut short, say it is better for my personal work to be
curtailed so that we can set about a task such as the one
we have before us".'0
Clearly, criticism of the Revolution is a delicate area of
the writer's responsibility. Jose Rodriguez Feo points out
that many writers in the early sixties were inhibited in
writing on certain political failings of the Revolution,
notwithstanding Castro's open criticisms of these, out of
fear of writing a critique which could be interpreted as
disloyalty to the Revolution: "In this sense, certain
writers have censored themselves in the past more out of
unfounded fears than through objections from our
leaders"." If the writer is to be a critic, as he must if he is
honest, his criticism must be, by virtue of his being an
integral part of the society, a self-criticism. Castro, who
himself set a pattern of self-criticism in his frequent
speeches, supports the view that "the spirit of criticism
should be constructive, should be positive and not
destructive".'" Eight years later, Retamar elaborates:
"We criticize it (the Revolution). But we criticize it from
within, as our errors. The only valid criticism, then, is
self-criticism"."3 In that same discussion, Ambrosio
Fornet gives a supporting view: "one must criticize ... in
the name of the Revolution, and of its goals, criticize like a
revolutionary to serve the revolutionary interests".'4 This
is not only the function of the writer but of critics in the
Revolution. Dalton underscores this theory with the view
that the writer is more valid if he joins in the
Revolutionary task than as a critic of society with three
square meals a day assured.'"
It is this view that has led to so much resentment in
Cuba of the poetry of Herberto Padilla, who in 1968 won
the Uneac prize for poetry with a collection of critical
poems entitled pointedly Outside the Game. It was the
same year that Anton Arrufat won the Uneac award for
drama for his also critical work Seven Against Thebes.
Both writers were regarded as critical in a destructive,
individualistic and somewhat superficial way, challenging
the hard-earned achievements of the Revolution. As
Mario Benedetti rightly points out, their tragedy lies,
particularly in the case of Padilla, with "not having
achieved a better communication with a social and
political pehnomenon as re-creative as the Cuban
Revolution; one can't help a certain feeling of depression
that a young, talented and sensible intellectual doesn't
face the Revolution with a more understanding
attitude"." It is this understanding attitude that the
Revolutionary theorists expect as a mark of development
towards the new man. If the writer is to criticize, he must

first earn that right by attitude and endeavour. Casa in an
editorial on the issue is strong in its condemnation of
negativism: "The fundamental thing is attitude: those
who not only are incapable of expressing the profound
human and social air of this Revolution but also are
incapable of feeling it, have no right to attempt to
represent Cuban artists ... and much less so those who
approach the Revolutionary process with a confused
perspective which is nothing but nihilism, scepticism,
inability to capture the actual moment"."7
For all the international outcry over Padilla, however,
both prizes were published in Cuba, albeit reluctantly, and
it was not until three years later that Padilla was put in
corrective detention for some two months in an attempt to
reason out the Revolution with ideologues. Nonetheless,
Castro in 1971 does shows his resentment and rejection of
the 1968 Uneac awards. In his address to the Education
and Culture Congress, he lambasts those overseas
intellectuals who joined in the protest over Padilla as
people who had no responsibility to the Revolution, and
no. lived experiences by which to appreciate the
Revolution. Thus he declares that not only must judges in
future be revolutionary intellectuals but the prizes should
go only to real revolutionaries. He also goes on to develop
on his 1961 theory: "we as revolutionaries evaluate
cultural works in terms of the values they hold for the
people ... of their utility for the people ... in terms of what
they offer for the revindication of man, the liberation of
man, the happiness of man. Our evaluation is political.
There can be no esthetic value without human value".18
A constant problem in such an institutionalized system,
however, is that personality clashes and enmities can
interfere with literary creativity by giving power to
cultural bureaucrats at the expense of creators. While it is
certainly not a phenomenon peculiar to Cuba or socialist
societies nor to purely governmental institutionalization,
this can lead to harassment and suppression of writers for
largely non-literary and at times non-ideological reasons,
although excessive ideological fervour often plays a part
in the forcing of intransigent positions. Such a tragedy
seems to be the case of Guillermo Cabrera Infante, who in
1961 ran into conflict with the bureaucrats of the Cuban
film institute, ICAIC, over a documentary censored for its
hedonism, and who was gradually excluded from
institutionalized literary activity (Lunes de Revolucion, of
which he was editor, was closed down) until he opted for
His subsequent novel, Tres Tristes Tigres of 1967 is a
revision of an earlier pre-1964 version. This revision is
important in understanding Cabrera's shift of novelistic
theory and ideological involvement, for the earlier version
he now views as "absolute socialist realism ... because it
examined lives some as exemplarily positive while others
were exemplarily negative",19 since it portrayed Havana
night life in the pre-revolutionary days counterpointed by
episodes of revolutionary struggle. His 1967 novel has had
the revolutionary episodes deleted in favour of what
becomes a nostalgic recall of this night life, to his mind
free of value judgements. One can interpret such a
revision as connected with the cooling-off of the novelist's
own revolutionary zeal, in turn related to the harassment,
to the point where he asserts that "literature'must deal
exclusively with literature. Any other preoccupation is
totally extra-literary and hence in my view doomed to
failure".20 But Cabrera Infante has, by his very history
and revision, shown how defining what is "exclusively"
literature brings one to the awareness of the ethical
influence on aesthetics. His first narrative work, a short
story collection of 1961, had a definitively political, anti-
Batista objective, which the author has not found extra-
literary on the grounds that it was an authentic
commitment while his 1964 novel was opportunist. The

issue then is not 'exclusiveness' but authenticity.
This is why most Cuban writers reject socialist realism
of the sort exhibited by Stalinist Russia, writing a novel in
a schematic way with a predetermined conclusion of praise
for the system. True, the early sixties saw a strong
challenge from dogmatic sectarians who would have had
the writer become more of a political tool. Fornet
dismisses these minds as by and large bureaucratic types
who were weak in Revolutionary ideology and faith, and
sought to cover up by dogmatism.21 One may add that
they were also weak in Marxist literary theory, since
Engels had clearly established that the political objectives
of the writer should best be implicit, emerging naturally
from the situation and action of the characters in the
novel.22 It is a mark of the Revolution's calibre that the
political leaders, as well as the literary vanguard, were
above encouraging such mediocrity and effectual stifling
of creativity. Indeed, Che Guevara gives the best rejection
of sectarianism and socialist realism in his essay 'Man and
Socialism in Cuba'. Here, Guevara urges writers to learn
from the errors of other socialist literary theories. The
lessons of Stalinism, sufficiently acute for the Cuban
writer to have a mistrust of socialist realism, are seen by
Guevara as the impatient interference of political
functionaries to mobilize literature for the principal aim of
educating the people: "What is then sought is
simplification, what everyone understands, that is, what
the functionaries understand. True artistic experimenta-
tion is obliterated and the problem of general culture is
reduced to the assimilation of the socialist present and the
dead (and therefore not dangerous) past".23 Guevara is
clear in his desire to establish a climate of adventure in
literature within the moral responsibilities of the
revolutionary: "We do not want to create salaried workers
docile to official thinking, or 'fellows' who live under the
wing of the budget exercising freedom in quotation
Clearly the mechanical representation of society
moulded with wishful thinking is a theory not of the
writers generally but of the bureaucrats. A year before
Guevara's statements, Jose Lorenzo was dismissing it as
a negation of realism: "The only anti-realist art is the
simplified art, facile populism, schematicism towards
propagandist ends. Truth is always revolutionary and
realism ought to seek in art the search for truth".25 The
problematic of realism is under continual discussion by
Cuban writers. The consensus seems to be a satisfaction
at the broadening of the concept of realism in art, with a
happy interconnection of imagination, fantasy and
immediate reality.
The realist zeal perhaps sprang out of the immediate
explosive history of the Revolution itself, where richness
of reality surpassed the imagination itself recalling
Carpentier's wonder at the 'real maravilloso' of the New
World compared with the fictional fantasies of the
surrealists. Fictional creation is preceded by the
non-fiction biographic and testimonial literature of the
revolutionaries themselves, or the political speeches and
rhetoric during the post-1959 years of the political leaders,
Castro and Guevara. This non-fictional literature has
acquired acceptance and value within the concept of
literature in the Revolution as indicated by the extension
of the Casa literary competition to now include the
testimony genre. Such non-fictional realism is a point of
departure for the fictional invention of writers such as
Lisandro Otero, who in La Situaci6n seeks to explain, via
an analysis of the Cuban bourgeoisie, the background that
necessitated the Revolution. The shock of this change, the
desire to shatter the memories of an unhealthy past, finds
many novelists turning to the historic experiences of the
Revolution up to 1959 to define the protagonists and

antagonists in this dialectic. We see it for example in
Desnoes' No hay problema, or Noel Navarro's Los dias de
nuestra angustia or Otero's En ciudad semejante. It is
noteworthy, in the light of the premise of the pre-
revolutionary writers as bourgeois, that each of these
novels concerns the Revolution as it affects the
consciousness of that class of youth, not working class. In
this respect, they are authentic realism. As with the early
poetry of the Revolution, they are born out of a desire to
testify to the change wrought on the attitudes and
awareness of the intellectuals undergoing a lived
This novel-testimony trend manages to weave in the
influences of the mass media of realism: journalism and
the cinema. It is instructive that Otero, for example, was
a journalist, who brought to his novels the happy merger
of journalistic affinity to historical fact with perceptive
invention, underlying the intense realist roots. Such
realism is transmitted through a medium that uses a wide
range of contemporary literary techniques in Otero's
case an indebtedness to the techniques of Dos Passos -
that seek to transfer mechanical representation to
imaginative stimulation through interior monologue;
shifts of person, of time, of place; stream of
consciousness; parallel narrative; reportage etc. However,
by 1969, Hector Quintero can comment: "It is necessary
to speak of the past, to study and sink oneself into it, to
burn epochs. Nevertheless, I believe that the pre-
revolutionary themes are now exhausted ... innumerable
new events have arisen over these years which must now
be examined".26
This does not invalidate the literary expression of those
first ten years. It merely points out the need to update
themes for that constant dialectic between an outmoded
situation and an advanced one. It is a call for
readjustment and search towards making the Revolution
more profound, and a call which has seen its reply in some
of the more recent novels which confront the problems
of the Revolution itself, exploring the possibilities
towards the new man. This we see in David Buzzi's La
religion de los elefantes, exploring problems of
generational differences and sibling alienation over
ideological issues, or in Manuel Cofilo's La iltima mujer
y elpr6ximo combat, which gives us the rural contexts of
the Revolution, including the situation of women and the
problems of counter-revolutionary sabotage as well as the
survival of mythic beliefs. The unifying feature of much of
this work is its consciousness of a collective objective
beyond the individual person, mediating between the
imperfections of the Revolutionary reality and the
aspirations of the new man it seeks to create. Literature is
regarded as a catalyst in the transformative process by
delineating characters and a society in a state of
becoming. This requires a consciousness of past as well as
future, so that historical perspective, whether through
flash back, recall or other literary device, becomes an
important feature of many literary works as a means to
appreciation of the dialectic.
In the development of the question of realism, two main
theoretic and practical trends may be noted: on the one
hand, a zeal for testimony by as authentic a
representation of reality as possible, and on the other
hand, a desire to illuminate reality through the
imagination. (There is, too, a literature of the unreal -
science-fiction). The leading exponent of the first trend is
Miguel Barnet, who has developed what he calls the
novela-testimonio: the testimony novel. It has as its
inspiration, socio-literature, but Barnet develops beyond
the sociological documentaries of Oscar Lewis (LaVida on
Puerto Rico and the Sanchez family series on Mexico)

which expose, through non-fictional accounts and
interviews, the daily world and ideas of sectors of those
countries, particularly working class sectors. He is more
inspired by a similar study on the Mexican indians by
Ricardo Pozas in his book Juan Perez Jolote.
Given not only the vibrant non-fictional literature of the
Revolution as well as the journalistic record of Marti or
beyond that the non-fictional accounts of the New World
by the early chroniclers which have now become
incorporated into definitions of literature, Barnet is
expanding a well-established literary tradition. Like
Carpentier, he seeks to penetrate the historic past, by a
faithful recreation through a character, of that history in
its collective importance, to better understand both the
past and the present seen as historical process. However,
he takes as his source living persons who have experienced
a particular history, and from their relating of this
life-story to him, Barnet presents an interpretation of
history. He feels that formal historical studies have been
subtle masks of bourgeois subjectivity, so that the
novelist must now reveal the other face of the coin. "To do
this, one must first embark on deep background research.
Discover the intrinsic features of the phenomenon, its real
causes, its real effects".27
From his interviews with the particular person (who
clearly must epitomize an epoch) such as the ex-slave
Esteban Montejo, or the actress Rachel, Barnet
elaborates his particular interpretation of the essences of
their time and the lessons for the present. It is therefore
not a mechanical editing of taped material in the manner
of Oscar Lewis. Barnet explains: "I would never write a
book faithfully reproducing what the tape-recorder says.
From the recorder I extract the tone of the language and
the anecdote, the rest, the style and slants, will always be
my contribution ... transcription gets nowhere ... Because
in my view, literary imagination must go together with
sociological imagination".28 Barnet accepts the presence
of fantasy and embellishment of fact as part of the vision
or recall of the past of his protagonists, but he is careful
not to let it deceive, despite its literary qualities, from the
essentials of the epoch. He therefore serves as a filter in
this creation of a foundation work a testimony of the
historical process.
Retamar sees this socio-literature, which in its earlier
stages Shklovski called factography, as an example of
that happy expansion of academic concepts of literary
genres, cutting across novel, essay, journalism, sociology.
for him, it is a flexible literature of reality in its most
authentic sense, which he links to the documentary sytle
of the Cuban film in its value as an educative exploration
and exposition of past and present.29 However, one of the
limiting aspects of Barnet's approach is that, because it
relies on the past, on figures whom time has enriched, the
present problems of the Revolution cannot be specifically
explored even if an albeit important perspective can be
given to them. A realism of the contemporary society still
has then to rely on the author's immediate perception and
sensitivity to his surroundings. The author himself
becomes what informants were to Barnet: the living
witness to an epoch.
As such witnesses, Cuban writers are strongly
conscious of the contextual theory of literature: that the
socio-historic contexts are the basis of literary creation.
Esteban Montejo is quoted in an illuminating statement:
"Things don't just come about so, out of nothing, and one
dreams because one has seen something".30 The writer
Manuel Cofiffo, as one of those who tackles the immediate
rather than the past, expresses it thus: "There exists a
reciprocity between happening and literature. ...The
writer must handle reality ... in the face of which he must

take a position as artist and man".31 However, Cofifio
defends the imaginative quality of the artist, citing
Lenin's approval of fantasy as an extra-ordinarily valid
key to discovery. It is through imagination and invention
that he sees the writer being able to project and enrich the
essential realities as well as their hidden possibilities. For
Cofi~o, this serves to emphasize the writer's esthetic and
ideological responsibilities and commitment. Like Lukacs,
like Retamar or Benedetti, like Castro, he believes firmly
in the direct relationship between art and reality and the
corollary of the artist's commitment.
Accordingly, the Revolutionary writers reject Robbe-
Grillet's new-novel approaches, whose premise is that the
writer is responsible to himself and his art, and that his
responsibility is not in what he relates but how. Style, for
the Cuban, must remain secondary to theme, to
revolutionary attitude and vision. It is indicative that two
of the novelists paying more attention to style than
content, Cabrera Infante and Lezama Lima [Paradiso],
have left Cuba. But to the Revolutionary writers, as
Collazos finds, Roland Barthes' statement on style is
pertinent: "Writing is an act of historical solidarity.
Language and style are objects; writing is a function. It
constitutes the relation between creation and society".32
When Coulthard cites Julio Cortazar as a "pro-Cuban"
novelist making the point that "the revolutionary novel is
not only the novel with a revolutionary content, but the
novel which aims at revolutionizing the novel itself, the
novel form",33 he gives perhaps the false impression that
the Cuban writers accept this view. Cortazar's statement
was however made after he had fallen out of acceptance by
the Cubans, who still put the writer's responsibility to
Revolutionary consciousness before style. This is why
Fidel passed over the question of stylistic freedom with
quick approval, in his desire in 1961 to emphasize the
writer's responsibility.
Style in fact is an area of experimentation and
adaptation of foreign as well as local ideas in Cuban
fiction. We have already seen the dialectic over realism in
literature. Less problematic are the varied techniques that
have been used to trigger off a questioning and a thought
response in the reader. However, even style provokes
controversies, thus when Jesus Diaz, in Los aKos duros
(1966), uses 'indecent' language and situations within a
positive revolutionary framework, it could be regarded as
a breakthrough against the false moralism of some
cultural functionaries disquieted by such an approach in
novels like Tres tristes tigres34. It is an enhancement of
realist authencity in which theoretically language should
approximate the normal speech patterns. This is further
exemplified in the zeal for a colloquial language, not only
in prose but in poetry, which gives the added advantage of
wider communication, breaking down a certain traditional
artificiality of literary language. There is a great
reluctance to set out theories of technique in Cuba, apart
from the basic premise that technique is secondary to
commitment. Yet the subtle connections between
content/message and style/medium should have merited
some serious examination by the Cuban writers. Indeed,
in practice, the awareness of this connection is revealed for
example in the technique of parallel narrative and shift of
protagonist in many of the novels that seek to replace an
individual protagonist by a collective one.
Openess is not confined to style, but applied also to the
concept of nationalism in so far as content goes. In 1964,
Retamar postulated clearly the Latin American dimension
of Cuba, and hence of the Cuban writer: "We cannot fall
into the trap of nationalism, because our nation is really a
vast nation, of which we know ourselves to be merely a
province".35 The Revolutionary themes, therefore, are not

only applicable to a Cuban situation, but wherever the
fight against capitalism or imperialism (cultural or
economic) exists, so that the writer sees himself capable of
writing on Viet Nam or on areas of Latin America,
provided that he has undergone the experience. In 1974,
this theory is substantiated in the opinions of young
writers, one of whom sums it up: "It must be an
internationalist literature".36 It is the position of people
grounded in Marxism-Leninism, and is reflected
particularly in the significant Cuban literary creation
based on the experiences of North Viet Nam, or in the
Latin American scope of the Casa literary awards.
Not unexpectedly, the younger writers in their Caiman
Barbudo interview, show a development of outlook
beyond those early years of change. They are beyond the
need for re-orientation of the writers themselves, since
most were moulded by the Revolution, and thus are closer
versions of Che's new man. They see the continuing
problems such as generational tensions, whether it be over
religion or concepts of morality; the political problems,
revisionism as well as dogmatism; human problems of
interpersonal relations and love; the situation of women in
a Revolutionary consciousness. They all see literature not
as a thirst for the strange, as Cortazar sees it, but as an
exploration of the realities of the Revolution, an
unravelling of its problems. The living example of this is
the theatre group Escambray, which operates within the
actual work situation of rural Cuba, using not only actual
specific problems of that community but also the persons
who experience these problems as part of their drama. One
gets both an interpretation and transformation of reality,
with a definite if not always obvious didactic intent,
seeking to use fiction as a problem-posing and
problem-solving mechanism. Jose Barban exemplifies this
view: "Realist criteria should be posed, seen from a
Revolutionary, partisan, viewpoint, where each problem
implies its solution. There is no conflict or dilemma which
doesn't contain a final solution"."
This may seem a more rigid approach to literature than
that of Words to the Intellectuals, but it presupposes the
remoulding of perspectives and attitudes over 15 years of
Revolution as an ongoing process, as well as the exposure
of essentially marginal and counter-revolutionary writers.
It is within this context that the. writer operates freely,
and the literary production of the Revolution has shown a
vitality of expression and awareness beyond that of other
Latin American states. The discipline of a total political
and social Revolution requires the self-discipline (in no
way synomymous with control) and responsibility of the
writer, as of any other citizen, in ensuring that the initial
premises of the Revolution are not betrayed, either by
selfish failings on the part of the creator or by dogmatic
temptations of functionaries. Neither group can set
themselves up as sole guardians of the public good.
Happily, this shadowy zone of extremes is infrequently
encountered in Cuban Revolutionary literature, perhaps
because the realities have too many constructive
possibilities to offer.

1. Castro, F. Palabras a los intelectuales. Havana: Congreso
National, 1961; p. 7.
2. ibid. p. 11.
3. Alvarez. 'Literatura y Revoluci6n (encuesta)'. Casa #51-52
(1968-69); p. 187.
4. Retamar, R. 'Hacia una intelectualidad revolucionaria en Cuba'.
Casa #40; p. 11.
5. Dalton, R. et al. 'Diez anos de Revoluci6n: el intellectual y la
sociedad'. Casa #56 (1969); p. 10.

6. ibid. p. 31.
7. ibid. p. 12.
8. Collazos, O. et al. Literature en la Revolucion y Revoluci6n en la
literature. Mexico: Siglo xxi, 1971.
9. Marinello, J. Creaci6n y Revoluci6n. Havana: Uneac, 1973;
p. 214. Julio Ortega, however, sees the difficulties of this adjust-
ment from outside critic to constructive participant as one of the
reasons for the scarcity, during the earlier years of the Revolution,
of novels, dealing with post-revolutionary issues. (Ortega, J.
Relato de la Utopia. Barcelona, 1973.
10. Castro, F. op. cit. p. 29.
11. Rodriguez Feo, J. Aqui once cubanos cuentan. Montevideo:
Arca, 1967. p. 11.
12. Castro, F. op. cit. p. 19.
13. Dalton, R. et al. op. cit. p. 31.
14. ibid. p. 21.
15. ibid. p. 10.
16. Benedetti, M. et al. Literature y arte nuevo en Cuba. Barcelona:
Estela, 1971. pp. 28-29.
17. Editorial. Casa #51-52 (1969). pp. 8-9.
18. Congress Nacional de Educacion y Cultura: Memorias. Havana:
Min. de Educaci6n, 1971. pp. 215-216.
19. Cabera Infante, G. 'Las fuentes de la narracion'. Mundo Nuevo
#25 (19681 p. 49. .

20. ibid.
21. Dalton, R. et al. op. cit. p. 19.
22. Laurenson, D. and Swingewood, A. The Sociology of Literature.
London: Paladin; 1972. p. 47.
23. Guevara, E. Venceremos. London: Panther, 1969. p. 548.
24. ibid. p. 549.
25. Lorenzo, J. Entrevista. Casa #22-23 (1964). p. 147.
26. Quintero, H. 'Literatura y Revolucion (encuesta)'. Casa # 51-52
(1969) p. 162.
27. Barnet, M. Cancion de Rachel. Barcelona: Estela, 1970. p. 138.
28. ibid. p. 140.
29. Dalton, R. et al. op. cit. p. 46.
30. Barnet, M. op. cit. p. 150.
31. Cofino, M. 'Acontecimiento y literature'. Casa #75 (1972). p. 100.
32. Collazos, O. op. cit. p. 16.
33. Coulthard, G. 'Two Revolutionary Literatures'. Jamaica Journal;
V. 8, #2-3 (1974). p. 12.
34. Rodriguez Feo, J. op. cit. p. 11.
35. Retamar, R. et al. 'Conversacion sobre el arte y la literature'.
Casa; #22-23 (1964). p. 138.
36. Gonzalez, O. 'Seis opinions sobre la creacion literaria'. Caiman
Barbudo; #80 (July, 1974). p. 45.
37. ibid. p. 6.





By Neville Dawes
(Reproduced from The Daily Gleaner]

The question of what is a"civilization"was uppermost in
the minds of young people when I was a student both at
school and University. And the type of school I attended
and the University where I was trained assumed, in
general, that the Graeco-Roman civilization from which
has developed what we call European culture was the
highest, the only civilization worth the attention of
Western man. We were, of course, far too civilized not to
realise the strength of ancient Chinese or ancient Indian
"civilization" but even there we used the word
civilization with the clear inflection of a question-mark.
But certainly, at that time, the phrase "African
Civilization" was considered to be a contradiction in
We have come a long way since then. We now know for
certain that Chinese or Indian civilization are only
different from but certainly not inferior to European
civilization and we are beginning to realise, with surprise,
that for all the varieties of peoples and culture patterns on
that continent, it is perfectly correct to speak of "African
Now it is one of the conditions of our being a people who
have come together and developed out of migration-forced
and voluntary that this question of "civilization" or in
its more concrete form 'culture' is perpetually worrying
us; the contemplation of the word "culture" has now
reached critical proportions in many places in our country.
Most "cultures" have a settled, known, historical basis,
about which there is no doubt. One only has to read
Virgil's *neid, the primary document expressive of that
Graeco-Roman civilization which I just mentioned, to
realise that not only the historically true but equally the
mythically suitable, forms the basis for a people's
self-identity. We are sorely troubled in Jamaica over this
question of identity. We are in doubt about the use of the

phrase "Jamaican Culture" but it is used everywhere
today, vague, in definition, being held on to doggedly by a
people suffering from what, on the face of it, is a
multiplicity of cultural choices. Some people who are
pessimists see in this a perpetual confusion: some hope
that we will arrive at a synthesis of some identifiable kind.
The phrase "Jamaican Culture" can be used, for
thinking or action, if we are clear about the precise
meaning we attach, firstly, to the word "Jamaican." The
question to be asked and to which an answer must be
made (or else we will be operating in a rudderless fashion),
is who is a Jamaican?
There is "Jamaican" in terms of the law, in terms of
citizenship. So far as "culture" is concerned this definition
does not really get us very far. The "Jamaican" we are
getting at must be based firmly in Jamaica's history.
Whether we like to admit it or not, Jamaica's history in so
far as it is viable to us, dates from the time of slavery in
Jamaica strictly speaking, from the early C16, from the
time of the Spanish occupation. Jamaica from that time,
until Emancipation, was quite simply a slave plantation
(in the widest sense) and the institution of slavery
profoundly affected every person's life in Jamaica whether
he was slave-owner, plantation owner, Jewish merchant, a
professional, a Maroon or a slave. In other words, the
physiognomy of Jamaica today has been formed on the
basis of the fact of slavery which I hope we can look at
today, unemotionally, for our purposes of arriving at the
structure of our Jamaican identity; of deciding what it is
we are, or should be, doing when we attempt in the 1970's
to promote cultural development, when we begin a process
of cultural engineering.
Against this background thinking, therefore, it seems
to me that we must answer the question "Who is a
Jamaican?" in this way:

*Address delivered to the Lions Club of Montego Bay
Neville Dawes was educated at Sturge Town Elementary School, St.
Ann, Jamaica College [Drax Scholar 1938] and Oriel College, Oxford
University where he read in the Honour School of English Language
and Literature [M.A. 1955].
In 1955 he took up the post of Lecturer in English in Kumasi College
of Art, Science and Technology in Ashanti and in 1960 joined the
University of Ghana as Lecturer in English in the Department of
English and Lecturer in Language and Communication in the School of
Business Administration of the University. He also taught graduate
classes in African and Caribbean Literature in the Institute of African
Studies. During the academic year 1963/64, Mr. Dawes was Visiting
Professor of English and Dean of the Faculty of Arts in the University

of Guyana in Georgetown, British Guiana. He resigned from the
University of Ghana, as Senior Lecturer in English, in 1970.
Mr. Dawes' publications include a volume of verse, "IN SEPIA"
[1957] and the novel THE LAST ENCHANTMENT [1960: Kraus
Reprint 1970] and his writings have appeared in several journals and
anthologies. From 1960-65 he was editor of "The Journal of
Management Studies" published by the School of Business
Administration, University of Ghana and from 1961-1963 was co-editor
of Okyeame, Ghana's literary journal. In 1954-5 he was book critic for
the Daily Gleaner [Jamaica]. Between 1961 and 1965 he was theatre
critic for The Ghanaian Times.
Mr. Dawes returned to Jamaica in June 1971. He is currently
engaged in writing the biographies of Reginald Myrie Murray
[1883-1963] and Dr. Harold Moody [1882-1947] for publication in the
Institute's JAMAICANS of DISTINCTION series.

"A Jamaican is anyone, white, black or mixed who
grew up in Jamaica and traces his ancestry back to
the period of the institution of slavery in Jamaica."
That is the simple conclusion I have arrived at after
considering this problem over many years indeed. That
the original Jamaica (in contradistinction to the aboriginal
Jamaican the Arawak) must be so defined. You see
immediately that no question of race or colour arises in
this definition. In so far as we have a nation, the original
nexus of Jamaica has been the institution of slavery. But
historically it is necessary to go further in this definition
of a Jamaican. The exact status of Jamaica under slavery
was that of a colony a colony on all fours, from the
point of view of administration, economic exploitation and
the forced hegemony of British culture, with all other
colonies of the British Empire. So that the fact that Hong
Kong and India were not slave colonies does not alter the
equality of status as between Jamaica, Hong Kong and
India. We therefore have to view the migration of Chinese
and East Indians to Jamaica and the Caribbean in a
special way. We have to see those Chinese and Indian
migrants, essentially as fugitives from the same colonial
domination (here principally economic) as the Jamaican
people endured in the latter half of the C19. Whatever
motive drove our Chinese and Indian fellow-Jamaicans to
migrate to Jamaica, it was certainly not with an intention
to colonize Jamaica. The remarkable integration of these
peoples into the main stream of Jamaican life probably
not so remarkable when one considers that basically they
were British subjects and objects here in Jamaica just as
they had been in the places from which they migrated -
this integration together with the sharing of a similar
experience of domination, makes it vital to place the
Jamaican Chinese and Indians firmly within the definition
of original Jamaicans of a later migration. And the
corollary which we must face squarely is that all other
Jamaican citizens are migrants, pure and simple.
The fact that one insists on this historical nexus binding
together the people of Jamaica, should not let us lose sight
of the harsh differences of reality a slave was a slave,
the lowest form of humanity, indeed, in some
interpretations, of sub-humanity; and an overlord was an
overlord with, in most cases, the comforts that were
available in that society. But the environment shaped
them all, impartially and relentlessly a hurricane or an
earthquake was not essentially less frightening to a
slave-owner than to a slave and in the final analysis
(putting aside moral considerations for the moment) the
economic consequences of these natural visitations
affected both sides of what some sociologists like to call
the "two" Jamaicas. I take the view that there is (and has
been) only one Jamaica, stratified harshly into economic
classes, stratified somewhat absurdly though nonetheless
harmfully) into gradations of visible skin complexions and
divided, in significant ways, in cultural assumptions and
practices. It is tantalizingly simple to think of a unified
Jamaica when we posit the nexus of slavery, and add the
unity of our colonial experience. It is even possible to
write idealistic poetry about it:
"Holy be the white head of a Negro
Sacred be the black flax of a black child
Holy be
The golden down
That will stream in the waves of the winds
And will thin like dispersing cloud.
Holy be
Heads of Chinese hair
Sea calm sea impersonal
Deep flowering of the mellow and traditional.
Heads of peoples fair

Bright shimmering from the riches of their
Heads of Indians
With feeling of distance and space and dusk:
Heads of wheaten gold
Heads of people dark
So strong so original.
All of the earth and the sun!"
That poem with its fine vision of a unified Jamaican
people was written in 1941 by the great Jamaican poet,
George Campbell. Like all visions this poem is idealistic,
and thirty-three years after the poem was written the ideal
seems impossible of attainment.
We have so far explored some of the implications in the
word "Jamaican" used in conjunction with the word
"culture." All I have been doing here is suggesting an
approach and certainly not laying down dogma. And it is
in the same spirit of enquiry that I will now approach the
other half of the concept culture.
You will forgive me now for inviting your attention
briefly to the history and activities of the institution
which I now head, the Institute of Jamaica.
The Institute of Jamaica was founded in 1879, at a time
when Jamaica was a British colony, indeed something of a
model British colony. The Institute was set up, as our
letterhead still states, "For the encouragement of
Literature, Science and Art." One immediately asks -
what kind of Literature, Science and Art? The answer is
obvious in general, British Literature, Science and Art
and specifically (where this was possible) the Jamaican
version or imitation interesting local colour added of
British, really English, Literature, Science and Art. The
importance of the Institute of Jamaica as one arm in
colonial policy is clearly seen when we realise that, from
the beginning, the Institute, having been founded by the
Governor Sir Anthony Musgrave came directly
under the Governor's administration. He appointed the
Board of Governors and was the final authority on
Institute of Jamaica matters. Not even the Colonial
Secretary could interpose himself between the Governor of
the Colony and the Board of Governors of the Institute -
indeed it happened on occasion, that the Governor was
appealed to over the Colonial Secretary's head, by the
Board. It is simplistic to suppose that colonial
governments were only concerned with the economic
development of the colonies (looked at from one point of
view), or economic exploitation (looked at from another
point of view). Cultural control was an essential part of
colonial policy and it is a perfectly understandable thing.
If you have to administer colonies, you had better make
certain that the cultural standards of that colony are your
own and not indigenous the Romans were the masters
of that kind of colonial policy. The consequence of the
central role of the Institute of Jamaica was that a certain
standard was set by which Jamaicans who wanted to
"improve" themselves would be measured. It meant,
among other things, that a "cultured" Jamaican was one
who spoke English with a certain accent, who thought
that "music," the only music was Bach and Beethoven
(who could tell you the titles of all the symphonies and -
though this was rare could hum some of the leading
motifs), who knew that the only art had been created by
Michel Angelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Rembrandt etc; who
could quote long passages from Shakespeare, in-
appropriately; who, all told, our "cultured" Jamaican
- was as near to being an Englishman as possible. I am
not scoffing at all this with the advantage of hindsight, for
the secondary school at which I was educated (and I
believe, well-educated given certain assumptions),
Jamaica College, was effectively founded by the same

Governor who founded the Institute of Jamaica. So that
the Institute of Jamaica (in a public way) and Jamaica
College (more privately) set this ideal for the "cultured"
As we look back we remember that "something
happened" in Jamaica in 1938, and its repercussions did
indeed touch the Institute of Jamaica. The basic attitude
to what was "good culture" for Jamaicans did not really
change. All that happened was that it became allowable,
for politic reasons, that within the framework of British
culture in Jamaica a little more local colour and local
variation could be accepted and encouraged but within
this framework and not too much. All told we faced then
(and to a certain extent still face) the situation that, so far
as the elite of this society were concerned, the imitation of
the objects and attitudes of British culture was accepted
as the norm for Jamaican "culture."
Today we are forced by the granting of political
independence (an independence which many Jamaicans
did not want and now lament) we are forced to consider
whether this concept of culture is acceptable.
And the people who are today talking about "cultural
development" in Jamaica begin from a very different
understanding of what a "culture" is. They challenge the
prevailing, the colonial, view of the hegemony and
absoluteness of British culture which made it possible to
say of a man or of a whole people "he has no culture,"
"they have no culture."
The view now taken (now that some of us have been
relieved of the colonial blinkers and have been able,
without prejudice, to study cultures throughout the
world), the view is that culture is the totality of instinctive
reaction and response to the facts of existence to
family, to other people, to the fauna and flora, to rocks,
water and the sea's moods and finally to the religious
being. Of course, the expression of this reaction and
response takes concrete forms but where those forms are
identifiable as belonging to a particular people they have
arisen out of the instinctive response and reaction to the
facts of existence as given in a society. Again here, race is
not the determining factor though it will, in a so-called
"multi-racial" society, produce interesting variations; the
determining factor is the nexus that I was talking about
An important aspect of this concept of culture which we
must always bear in mind is this the instinctive
reaction and response to existence is something that is
settled for each person very early in life and certainly
before teen-age and once settled it can be added to and
it can be suppressed outright or be concealed under
veneers of varying thickness but (taking any country, not
simply Jamaica) no foreigner can acquire the culture
which is the instinctive response and reaction to existence
that is peculiar to a particular people.
Out of this response and reaction come the objects of a
culture art, music, artefacts, dancing in general the
performing and plastic arts, as well as the attitudes to
other people inside and outside of that culture, attitudes
to work and leisure everything that makes up a
recognisable way of life. It follows, therefore, that there is
no such thing as a superior or inferior culture, there is no
"good" or "bad" culture. Certainly, there is superior and
inferior technology and what is more, a people's cultural
development at a certain historical point may hinder the
growth of its technology but a people's culture (whether
anyone likes it or not) is a given fact of life, like one's
beautiful or unlovely face. So that the assumption, held
still in many quarters, that another people's culture can be
acquired in any instinctive sense, an assumption on which
much of Jamaica's "cultural" activities in the past was

based, is now considered (in the concept that I am putting
forward) to be erroneous.
These are some of the considerations that are engaging
our attention in cultural development, in the planning of
programmes that will encourage not just Literature, Art
and Science but cultural expression as a whole in Jamaica.
In putting forward a theoretical framework and
promulgating a set of ideas, one must stress that there is
no intention to pronounce, in ex cathedra fashion, a set of
immutable laws for Jamaican culture. Still less is there an
intention of forcing anyone individual or group to
accept and act on these basic premises.
At the Institute which is now seen only as an Agency
and which operates as a catylyst or a kind of laboratory,
we hope, by active research and the projection of certain
findings about our country, to suggest the kinds of
attitudes that are useful for our cultural well-being. But
right at the surface, two fallacies operate. One is that our
culture is really European and that we must strive to
make it more so. Most people who talk in this way about
"European culture" usually mean English or Anglo-
Saxon culture because "European culture" presents a
variety with important national differences which anyone
who has travelled across Europe by land and has paid
attention anyone who has travelled from say Paris to
Moscow or Rome to Copenhagen will know. The other
fallacy is that our culture is really African and that we
must strive to make it more so. This argument is only
numerically plausible. Again anyone who has travelled
across the continent of Africa will realise the diversity of
instinctive cultural patterns which exist there. Perhaps
the truth about our cultural heritage lies somewhere
between these extremes and one of our main tasks in the
new cultural thinking is to find out just where it lies and to
study the implications of our findings. Those cultures
(European & African) are today admitted to be two
possible poles. I would like to remind you, however, that
it is not long ago that it would have been considered
inadmissible to refer seriously to African culture. It was,
in the old view, the unlovely face that we should make
every effort to conceal as we became more cultured. And
this attitude, this total acceptance of the hegemony of
"European" culture in Jamaica went much further and
touched, in a curious way, our Chinese and our Indian
cultural heritage. So that we had a situation of attitudes
where the "cultured" person of Jamaican origin, black,
white or mixed, if he thought of music considered that
Chinese music sounded like cats fighting, and that Indian
music sounded like a dog howling in agony and that the
music of the black majority of Jamaicans was like beasts
fighting in a jungle but music was Bach, Mozart,
Beethoven, Brahms those were the only men. Attitudes
die hard but I think we are gradually beginning to realise
that it is idiotic to take an attitude of superiority to any
culture. We are beginning to realise that to appreciate our
Chinese songs or our Indian dancing, enriches our own
national cultural life. And it is one of our tasks to ensure
that at least the next generation of Jamaicans will
appreciate Chinese music and dance Indian dances as
naturally as all of us now dance reggae.
In accepting your very kind invitation to address you
this afternoon, I did not intend to burden you with a
recitation of Institute of Jamaica activities but to give you
some indication of the basic thinking about Jamaican
culture that has been taking place. I must, however,
mention another area that is vital to a cultural tradition
and that is the collecting and storing of antiquities,
archaeological artefacts, old documents etc. There are two
approaches to this activity one archival, the other
projectionist. These are not opposed approaches, indeed

they are complementary because if you do not collect,
store and preserve the objects of a culture, you will have
nothing to project. Now quite apart from the current
market-value of these antiquities, we must ask ourselves
why are we storing these antiquities -what values do they
have for us? The collecting of antiquities per se, in itself,
is not necessarily a national necessity. In itself it can have
no more significance than a personal predeliction. A man
in England may spend a life-time collecting old Jamaican
stamps to satisfy his personal curiosity. Similarly, a man
in Jamaica may spend his life-time collecting Dresden
China. We have to examine, very carefully, the
proposition that anything old and found in Jamaica is part

of Jamaican history and must be preserved. If that
proposition is correct then we have the purely archival
approach collect all you can, store it away and never
look at it again. We have to find the best balance between
collecting and projecting information about the things we
have collected and this means that our archival activities
must be relevant to our cultural situation in the 1970's.
It is against this general background that the Institute
of Jamaica must go about encouraging cultural activity in
Jamaica, creating an understanding an awareness of
Jamaican culture among all our people and most of all
producing pride in our culture, for the way in which we see
our culture is itself part of our culture.


Demonstration of modern dance and
traditional Indian dance. Photos
from workshops at the Institute of
Jamaica, which included Kumina,
classical ballet, and other dance
forms practiced in Jamaica.

Cannon U.




A Reiew By Jean D'Costa

Cannon Shot and
George Lamming. P
Twenty-eight select
George Lamming's conception for this new anthology of
Black poetry and prose is novel and intriguing. This
reviewer knows no other selection quite like Cannon Shot
and Glass Beads. I found it fascinating not just as another
sampling of Black writing but as a context for examining
the strange, complex history of White and Black in
colonial and post-colonial times. The purpose of the
anthology, as Lamming's short introduction tells us, is to
provide for emergent Black consciousness "some spiritual
intimacy with its immediate as well as its ancestral past."
The book is thus directed primarily at a Black audience:
the readership of the Third World now moving away from
the colonial era. Lamming's introduction defines the
common ground against which all of the extracts must be
seen; then he suggests a perspective that goes further and
deeper than the present time or the immediate audience:
The central theme concerns the historical encounter
between Europe and Africa and the nature of the ex-
perience, which is sometimes much too loosely called
colonial. There was a quality of upheaval in the
association of these peoples which will remain a
pervasive influence in their relations long after the
structure of Empire has been dismantled. The geo-
graphy of the fiction extends therefore from Africa to
Europe to the Americas and the Caribbean. It is the
second aim of our selection to offer a comparative
survey of Black response to the politics and culture
of White racism.
Cannon Shot and Glass Beads. p. 11 my italics
The presence of the "pervasive influence" shows itself
consistently throughout the selection and warns that no
narrow or parochial interpretation may safely be put upon
the achievement of these writers.
On first taking up the book, I was struck by the title
and wondered whether such an anthology could be
workable in terms of interest, taste, variety and truth to
human nature. Lamming's claims made in the short
introduction seemed to make the sort of scholarly but
limited case which is more to be found in the abstract of
some out-of-the-way thesis than in a work intended for so

Glass Beads, edited by
icador (Pan Books). 1974
ons, 283 pp. Paperback.
wide an audience. Many of the selections are also already
well-known, such as the pieces from Walcott, Cesaire,
Guilleh and Selvon, to name a few. There seemed no merit
in including works already so widely known, and already
anthologised by other editors. Still, the bitter mockery of
the title did its work, and I became held by the claims of
the introduction. The anthology ranks among Lamming's
significant contributions to contemporary letters. To
conceive of such a selection is itself no small achievement:
to bring it off is a matter of taste, discernment, and
disciplined choice. Far from being unworkable, Cannon
Shot and Glass Beads alters and enriches one's view of the
then and the now of colonialism and racism. The selections
form a subtle, shifting context for one another as they
appear in Lamming's ordering. They transcend the mere
study of facts and sociological processes, and present for
the first time an image of art, many-faceted, infinitely
malleable, transcending time and place, and preserving
always a sense of life beyond the individual and the race.
Ars longa, vita brevis the anthology reminds us, as the
reader's sensibility passes from the stark Paris of Senghor
to the manic laughter of Selvon's Lonely Londoners and
the flat, sour quest for love and meaning in Louise
Meriwether's Happening in Barbados.
At this point a warning must be sounded. Readers tend
to view anthologies in a careless, cavalier fashion,
skipping this and trying that, on the look-out for
something titillating or uniquely pleasing to personal
taste. This is a bad habit indulged in by too many of us,
pressed as we are by the torrent of material poured out
daily by the media. Cannon Shot and Glass Beads should
not be read in this way, for, while it does not follow a strict
sequence in place and time, it does possess a strong
pattern of interrelating attitudes, experiences, and
insights. Each extract conditions the reader's apprecia-
tion of those with which the particular selection is
juxtaposed. The whole forms a pattern that is best
apprehended by a consecutive reading of the selections. In
such a reading well-known selections take on new
freshness and new depths which may be startling. The
troubling problem of extracts taken from a larger work,

such as a novel, thus is settled in an unexpected way. The
context of the anthology is not that of the larger work, but
that of a larger life in which the individual writer is seen to
have a kinship and a part to play that may have only been
dimly guessed at in his own work.
The opening passage of the anthology establishes the
validity of the title. C.H. Kane's Ambiguous Adventure
telescopes past and present in its presentation of the
conquest and colonisation of Africa through the eyes of
two children, one white, one black. Ambiguity is the
recurrent feature of the encounter of the two races. The
violent encounter of the past is fraught with ambiguities:
The country of the Diallobe was not the only one
which had been awakened by a great clamour early
one day. The entire black continent had had its
moment of clamour.
Strange dawn! The morning of the Occident in
black Africa was spangled over with smiles, with
cannon shots, with shining glass beads. Those who
had no history were encountering those who carried
the world on their shoulders. It was a morning of
accouchement: the known world was enriching itself
by a birth that took place in mire and blood.
This is the beginning of a world in which neither group will
remain unchanged. The changes will take their inevitable,
mysterious course only partly understood by those who
are the living instruments of change. But though insight
and overview are impossible, emotion and intuition never
are. The French child Jean senses the nobility, the
tragedy, and the alien vitality of his counterpart Samba
Dialle: "For a long time the little boy was haunted by the
two faces, of the father and son. They continued to obsess
him, until the moment when he sank into sleep."
The heavy shadows of this past are brought out in
Derek Walcott's 'Ruins of a Great House', with its
imagery of disease and decadence, and the sharp conflict
of opposites:
Ancestral murderers and poets, more perplexed
In memory now by every ulcerous crime..
All in compassion ends
So differently from what the heart arranged:
'as well as if a manor of thy friend's...'
The imagery and echoes of this noted poem take on a
special sinister and pathetic quality when read in
conjunction with the Kane extract. More effectively than
a dozen history books could ever do, this reading-in-
context establishes the real continuity and special inter-
relationships of all aspects of the Black colonial
The next three selections enlarge upon the basic
situation of colonial interaction. The fantastic quality of
Ellison's satire The Invisible Man strikes a macabre note
that is transformed to a dominant major theme in
Brathwaite's 'Jah', that statement of Black adaptation
and adaptability in a deformed, diminished setting:
With my blue note, my cracked note, full flattened
fifth, my ten bebop fingers, my black bottom'd
strut, Panama
worksong, my cabin, my hut,
my new frigged-up soul and God's heaven,
heaven, gonna walk all over God's heaven...
Oyono's The Old Man and the Medal brings home the
details and workings of the situation that specifically
breeds "frigged-up souls", and here the first clear
indication of the disease appears: it is not Meka, the hero,
who becomes dehumanised in this uneasy situation of
domination and partial acculturation.

Senghor's magnificent poems form a turning point of
tragic enlightenment, as the reader is brought into full
contact with the image of the disastrous past and its
relationship to present agony. The message concentrated
in Senghor's transcendental vision of death and life, is
then treated with elegant satire, sharp realism and vivid
mischief in the extract from Soyinka's The Interpreters.
The setting recalls that of the Kane passage as well as
Ellison's Invisible Man, forming part of a sub-set with
Neville Dawes' The Last Enchantment. However, the fact
that these passages all deal with some aspect of what has
been styled "the educational process" in the colonial world
is less important than the shifting world-view they
In the first passage we are presented with the beginning
of the adventure on the African continent. From there the
focus moves to the West Indies, shifts to America, and
spreads to cover the whole nexus of climates and
continents in Braithwaite's 'Jah'. The Old Man and the
Medal shows one aspect of the African experience in sharp
detail, from which Senghor's poems move to a universal
overview. Each of the succeeding passages uses this
universality as a frame for a deeply individual statement.
Hernton, Young, Ngugi, Jones and Cesaire express
unique textures of feeling and experience that slowly
merge into a synthesis of interracial tensions. Emigration,
return, foreign immigration, displacement in the mother-
land and the search for brotherhood constitutes the
selections from Ousmane, Soyinka, Lamming, Okot
p'Bitek, Selvon and Meriwether. Though each setting is
fixed clearly in the reader's mind, the contrasts between
immigrant London and swinging Brazil, between the
Oxford tutorial and the Johannesburg servants' quarters,
or between the Ugandan home and the Bajan nightclub
point up the interrelated aspects of a common experience.
The theme of man's inhumanity to man becomes the
deeper, paradoxical theme of humanity itself.
The anthology ends, fittingly, with Peter Blackman's
'In Memory of Claudia Jones' and Aime Cesaire's 'For the
Third World'. The latter is a translation from the French
by the late Professor G.R. Coulthard (who also translated
both of the Guillen poems); every English-speaking reader
must acknowledge with gratitude and appreciation the
creative excellence of these works of the translator's craft.
The empathy of heart and imagination deriving from the
cross-cultural experience is summed up in the closing lines
of 'For the Third World':
Africa is no longer
in the diamond of misery
a black heart breaking.
Our Africa is a hand out of a gauntlet,
it is a straight hand, palm outwards
fingers tightly pressed together.
It is a swollen hand
a wounded, open hand
held out,
brown, yellow, white
to all the hands, the wounded hands
of the world.


The Introduction c



into the


By Pamela O'Gorman
Many of the people entrusted to the missionaries take
surprising pleasure in rhythmic music and enhance the
ceremonies in honour of their gods with religious songs. It
would not show much prudence on the part of the heralds
of Christ, the true God, if this effective means for
promoting the apostolate be lightly thought of, or
neglected. Papal Encyclical 1955, "Musica sacrae
Musica sacrae discipline was published in 1956. The
extract quoted above can be considered either remarkably
backward or remarkably liberal depending on the
perspective from which it is viewed.
So deeply was the Western Church entrenched in her
own cultural and social origins that, hundreds of years
after establishing her presence in other continents, she
was still to express surprise at her converts' pleasure in
"rhythmic music" and to regard her own neglect of it
merely as "imprudent". Yet, the same extract shows a
remarkable anticipation of trends which became manifest
several years after it was published and which, even now,
are regarded in some quarters as revolutionary. Many
churches still remain stubbornly opposed to the use of
"rhythmic music" in their services or in sacred buildings.
In 1956 it was unlikely that many people in Jamaica, if
they had read Musica sacrae discipline, would have
thought of applying it here. Obviously, it was intended
mainly for the church in Africa; and in any case at that
time the established churches' of Jamaica had not been
confronted by any problems associated with music in
worship. Our "revolution" came some years after and by
that time the use of folk music here had already been
sanctioned largely because of its acceptance in churches
Not that "rhythmic music" of Christian persuasion had
not already existed in this country for years: it had,
among the Sects2 and other lower class churches.3 In this
1. R.C., Anglican, Methodist, Presbyterian, Moravian, Seventh
Day Adventist. 2. e.g. Revival and Pocomania.

w o ': \ .
t music ,'cpt t I meloTies were hymn tunes of European
Sor 'Amercno., prigin, ut the performance style was
predor inat' African: Harsh vocal timbre, percussive
accompanident, rhyfthmic body movement, improvisation
.and spoiitapepus hqramonization transformed Western
ynins into,a..eo-African form that is today considered
pgrf d.itaie ritage of Jamaican folk music.
Bit.14i Estabjished Churches were European-oriented
and t*L, reotainl4 isolated, socially and culturally, from
these .lcal manifestations of Christian belief. When a few
local churches first adopted an evangelical folk movement,
it was not to the music of this country that they turned
but to the modern-day folk songs of Europe and America.
The new movement in Church music had begun in Great
Britain in 1956, with the publication of Geoffrey
Beaumont's Folk Mass a setting of the Anglican
Eucharist in "popular" style. The idea behind the Folk
Mass and a plethora of other pop music that followed was
to evangelize young people, to jolt the minds of church
musicians out of their complacency and to act as a vehicle
to arouse people's interest in contemporary, everyday
problems through the use of music that appealed to the
majority. The music was also intended to "shock and
terrify" the conservatives which it did, even though the
idiom, with its blues and foxtrots, waltzes and tangos,
was about thirty years out of date.
The movement that started, however, was taken up
throughout Europe and America largely by Christian
intellectuals impatient with the Church's apparent
indifference to social problems and its alienation from the
ordinary man and his everyday life.
So the hymn and the organ were supplanted by the
folksong and the guitar; a reverent and restrained manner
of performance was replaced by one that was noisy,
provocative and corporeal one that had, in short,
previously been associated with secularism or with "lower
class" religions.

3. e.g. Pentecostal, Church of God, City Mission, Salvation
Army. All the above classifications are those of George Eaton
Simpson. T7 Z.. r_ 1.., 0 <, LI,-


ustraton eat er d

At first this movement was received in Jamaica
apparently with scant interest. The radio stations
occasionally broadcast the Beaumont Mass, but the
intention behind such broadcasts was to appeal to those
interested in keeping up-to-date with modern trends
abroad, rather than to influence local modes of worship.
By the early sixties the folk song movement had
reached full swing in the United States. Folk artistes such
as Bob Dylan and Joan Baez were the musical idols of the
day, the Civil Rights movement that these artistes
supported caught the imaginations of the younger
generation and a new social awareness became apparent.
This, too, was soon to penetrate the Church.
At this time, a young Jamaican, Barry Chevannes,
whose name has long dominated Jamaican church music,
was attending a Catholic seminary in U.S.A. Two
important things happened to him. Firstly, he became
involved in the folk movement, touring schools, colleges
and universities with a singing group from the seminary.
Secondly, the civil rights issue brought home to him a
sudden consciousness of his blackness. This inevitably
made him take a new look at himself and where he came
from; and since he was about to return home after seven
years abroad, he began writing a Jamaican folk mass as a
means of clarifying his ideas about his own identity and
his own Jamaican culture.
On his return to Jamaica, Chevannes found no overt
signs of a local folksong movement, let alone the radical
ideas about the Church's identification with the "common
man" that were sweeping the States. At the request of a
friend he began singing and teaching songs at St.
Patrick's Roman Catholic Church in Waterhouse. This
was followed by the practice of holding "Yard Masses",
an underground form of worship adopted by a few young
Catholic radicals, and Chevannes found himself com-
posing music for both. Thus his "religious protest songs",
as he prefers to call them, came into being.
In the Established churches of 1968 there was no
comfortable place for Barry Chevannes. The few churches
that were practising "evangelization through folk" were
doing so with foreign songs such asBlowin' in the Wind,
Kum ba yah, and Song of a Happy Man, sung by
congregations with imported tastes and no aspirations
beyond copying what was being done abroad. What was
any middle-class congregation to make of a song like
Jiisas tek way all wi sin?
Jiisas tek way all wi sin,
Den im gi wi bread fi eat
An im gi wi wine fi drink,
Im body an im blood eternal life,
Eternal life, eternal life.
If you thirsty breda, an yu soul a-paach
Run come a Jacob well;
If yu thirsty breda, an yu soul a-paach
Run come a Jacob well;
If yu thirsty breda, an yu soul a-paach
Bring all yu trouble-dem, run come drink
A Jacob well, the spring of life,
The spring of life.
When wi eat dis bread, and when wi drink dis wine
Is memba wi memba im;
When wi eat dis bread an when wi drink dis wine
Is memba wi memba im;
When we eat dis bread and when we drink dis wine
Is memba wi memba di death of di Laad
Till im come again de king of kings,
De king of kings.
When wi eat dis bread an when wi drink dis wine
Is resurrection day;

When wi eat dis bread an when wi drink dis wine
Is resurrection day;
When wi eat dis bread an when wi drink dis wine
Is die wi die the death to sin,
An is rise wi rise to eternal life,
Eternal life.
When this song and others like it, with their dialect
verse, mento guitar accompaniment and innate corpo-
reality were first introduced into higher class churches,
they produced "great consternation"' among both clergy
and congregation. Even today, many Jamaican church-
goers react with stunned silence, if not outright
Thus one singles out the name Barry Chevannes in the
context of Jamaican church music. He was a pioneer. In
his particular use of indigenous music in worship, he
revealed the musical and linguistic resources of the
Jamaican folk idiom as no one else had attempted to do
within the Established Church; and at the time when the
beginnings of the identity crisis that was to erupt in the
cultural revolution of the early 1970's were scarcely
discernible; it was courageous if not a foolhardy to
dare to upset all the tenets of race and class, education
and respectability to which the Church had clung for so
The fact that Chevannes' songs have since become an
inter-denominational lingua franca sung by a large
number of churches in as many different arrangements is a
vindication of that early, bold concept and a testament to
the quality of the songs and their ability to satisfy a
common liturgical need.
Barry Chevannes first began singing his songs at
Aquinas Centre around 1968. The Aquinas congregation,
because of its location near the University campus, has
always contained a large proportion of young people from
all over the Caribbean. Being not only young but also free
of social and parental restraints, it has naturally been
more receptive to change than the average parish
congregation in which old habits and social customs tend
to be deeply entrenched. The presence of Trinidadian
students has also been an asset to Aquinas, for they carry
with them a tradition of music-making unique in the
Caribbean: every Trinidadian seems to be able to pick up a
guitar or a quatro and, at worst, provide a passable
accompaniment to any folk song.
Thus, it was not very difficult to introduce folk services
into Aquinas. It was difficult, however, to introduce
dialect. To the Eastern Caribbean students it was a
foreign language; to the Jamaicans it was still considered
unfit for educated or respectable tongues. European songs
were far easier to assimilate, especially as radio stations
and recording companies had made them familiar; so for
some time an uneasy juxtaposition of local and foreign
existed in pursuit of "relevance".
The real question of relevance was to arise, however, in
1970 when a new generation of students most of them
from U.W.I. began to realize that they were being
moulded into imitation Europeans, and rebelled.
Significantly, the revolution broke out in the area of
culture, beginning with the occupation of the Creative
Arts Centre of the University in February of that year.
This is not the place to discuss the effects upon middle-
class society of the C.A.C. occupation and all that it
represented; but it was not long before some churches
began to feel the wind of change blowing against their
doors. Furthermore, within a mile radius of the Creative
Arts Centre, there were situated Aquinas Centre, St.
Michael's Seminary, the United Theological College of the
West Indies, and the University Chapel, all attended by
4. Chevannes' description.

young people who were educated, musical, committed to
the Church and the West Indies and suddenly confronted
with the challenge of establishing their cultural identity.
It was not long before a once-reluctant acceptance of the
guitar in church had had to extend to congo drums,
Rastafarian repeaters, maracas and tambourines; and, as
churches began to search for more and more indigenous
material that would reflect their increasing acceptance of
black theology and West Indian culture, the songs of
Barry Chevannes, along with a certain amount of
Caribbean folk song material, began to be sought after,
and used.
In all this the part played by the theological students of
Papine in moulding and disseminating the idea of
indigenization has been significant and far-reaching.
The Jamaican music generally used in the indigeniza-
tion movement in churches in the Corporate Area falls into
two general categories: (A) Indigenous folk music,
including that which has been transplanted (with slight
adaptations) from "lower class" sects such as Revival or
Pocomania and (B) Music composed in a Jamaican idiom.
This is usually identifiable by the frequent use of
syncopation or by an inherent idiomatic rhythmic
background (e.g. Mento 'r Rastafarian) or, along with
either or both of these, the use of melodic motifs
commonly found in Jamaican folk song.
List A is sparse; but it must be remembered that "folk
services" include a good deal of non-Jamaican material:
other West Indian songs, Afro-American, European and
African songs, European pop songs and European folk
style songs that are "Jamaicanized" by being accom-
panied by a Rastafarian drum rhythm or by a Rock
Steady or Reggae beat." In fact, some songs such as
"Thank You" and "Halleluia" (Psalm 148) have become
so West Indianized that many people are astonished to
discover that the songs originated in Europe.


Me Alone

- Sectarian
- Sectarian
- Sectarian

(adapted by

Rivers of Babylon
(Psalm 137)

O Let the Power Fall

- Rastafarian (originally
probably Revival) adapted
by Rev. Harold Critchlow
- Sectarian Rastafarian

All this music was originally religious in concept. What
was Christian was adapted by the Rastafarians to suit
their ideology. "O Let the Power Fall" is a typical
example. Originally Revival, it was "captured" by the
Rastafarians, who adapted the words and added a second
verse. After it became a well-known pop song on the
Jamaican Hit Parade, the Non-conformists and Roman
Catholics began using it in their services, especially at
Pentecost. The Non-conformists returned to the original
Revival words of the first verse, dropped the second on the
principle that it is against Christian doctrine to condemn,
and added three of their own (written by a theological
student, Birchfield Aymer). Some Roman Catholic
congregations use the Rastafarian version; but in the R.C.
Archdiocesan collection, "Praise Yahweh My Soul", the
Non-conformist version is used, except for the first verse
which is quasi-Rastafarian: "Oh let the power fall on I, my
Lord" The words of the three different versions are given
below *
This apparent dearth of folk songs does not mean that
other material does not exist: it simply means that it has
not been researched or, if it has, has not yet been made
accessible to the public. It should be noted that, with the
exception of "Redeemed", all the music in this list has
been heard frequently in professional performance by the
Jamaican Folk Singers, the N.D.T.C. Singers or by
Rastafarian pop groups, which suggests that the Church
tends to use folk material whose popularity makes for easy
learning and is likely to attract young people, especially.
The list could have included secular folk music to which
religious words have been added; but such examples as do
exist are usually so clumsy as to be best overlooked,
especially where a melody is adapted to fit an original
verse. Most people must surely choke over any attempt to
fit John Hoad's "Incantation", written for the installation
of the U.W.I. Chancellor, Sir Hugh Wooding, to the tune
of "Carry me ackee go a Linstead Market" (adapted),
which appears in the C.A.D.E.C. publication "Sing a New
Song". The effect, curiously, is to reduce both melody and
words to a painful level of banality.* *

O let the power fall
on me, my Lord
Let the power fall on
O let the power from
Heaven fall on me
Let the power fall
on me.
[Courtesy Olive Lewin]

1. 0 let the power fall
on I, Fari
Let the power fall.
on I
0 let the power fall
onI, Fari
Le the power fall
,on I.
2. 0 let the wicked burn
in flames, Fari
Let the wicked burn
S in flames
0 let the wicked burn
to ash, Fari
Let the wicked burn
in flames.
S[Sung by Max Romeol

1. As for the Revival version.
2. We want the power to live
as one, yes Lord
We want the power to live
as one;
So as we pray and intercede
for some
May the spirit make us one.
[adaptation: Birchfield Aymer]

5. It is interesting to note that in the U.T.C. song collection,
"Spotlight" the numbers of songs falling into these categories
are: Jamaica 5; other West Indian 10; Afro-American -

5; African -
West Indian

1; European and American 35. Of 15 original
compositions 11 are Jamaican (including 7 by


~i i I


Take the dark strength of our nights filled with peeny

allies lights; Take the star signs wheeling round

i~~ ~ -0- } ,

while the steel drum


melts to sound.


Olive Lewin
Barry Chevannes
Mapletoft Poulle
Lisa Narcisse
Richard Ho Lung S.J.

Psalm 23 ..... The Lord is my Shepherd ...... Noel Dexter
Psalm 23..... God is my great provider .Barry Chevannes
Psalm 112 ..... Praise, praise the Lord Barry Chevannes
Psalm 121..... I lift my eyes to the Mountains
...................... Barry Chevannes
Psalm 150..... Praise the Lord is his holy dwelling
................... ..... Lisa N arcisse
Psalm 150 ..... .................... Noel Dexter

Title First line
Written for Sunday......... Rejoice and be glad...............
Barry Chevannes
Grace and Peace ............ From our Father, God
Barry Chevannes
Walk-good Song ......... Clap your hands
Barry Chevannes
Bless.the Lord .............. Bless di Lord Barry Chevannes
Jesus tek weh all wi sin.. ...................... Barry Chevannes
Father bless this offering..................... Barry Chevannes
Give praise to the Lord.. The open skies gather sound
Richard Ho Lung S.J.

Blak-up ......................... . Barry Chevannes
Ruth and Naomi..................... Barry Chevannes

The night when Jesus died
Heng 'im

Early Christmas Mawnin'
Mary's Little Boy
Children of the
Tropical Clime
Mary heard di word

Barry Chevannes
Barry Chevannes

Barry Chevannes
Barry Chevannes
Patterson Deane

Therenia Nicholls
Richard Ho Lung S.J.

The Right Hand of God
All di likkl pikni dem
Nailed to the Cross dung
Trench Tung
A Child Finds a Brook
Mi Lord, Mi God
Knew you before all times
Jesus gave 'ternal life
Two Children
I Know
Miss Ruth
I am the way
Wata Cyan come from a rod

Noel Dexter
Barry Chevannes

Barry Chevannes
Richard Ho Lung S.J.

The music contained in this list is of varying quality
and craftsmanship. Some composers are well-known
professionals who have written music for the Church, on
request. Others are trained amateurs who have been, or
are, active in the Church and who devote their natural
musical talents to satisfying a need. Some are musically
non-literate, teach their songs by rote, and rely on friends
to notate and sometimes arrange the music for them.
The great difference in size between these two lists
would seem to suggest that for purposes of worship
composed music is preferable to folk music. Certainly an
authority on the subject of indigenization of worship,
Professor J.H. Kwabena Nketia, believes this. Drawing
attention to the fact that folk songs tend to carry extra-
religious associations which intrude on the act of worship,
he has stated flatly, "I would personally prefer to have
new creations for the Church, so that the music of worship
may be reserved for worship."
A young member of St. Jude's Stony Hill expressed her
doubts about the use of folk music with equal definition:
"We can never do without the old traditional music
because it was specially made for Church."7 And anyone
who has had any experience of folk services will be aware
of the many occasions when folk music interpolated into
established service formats has proved simply "not
right". Either it intrudes or it fails to satisfy the spiritual
demands of the moment.
It becomes more and more obvious that music for
worship, to be truly effective, must germinate in and
relate to its own religious, cultural and social milieu. No
matter how great the intrinsic worth of a religious folk
song or pop song might be, it remains a distillate of its

6. This list is up-to-date at time of printing. Any glaring omissions
are due to the author's ignorance and do not reflect selectivity of
any kind.

7. "Traditional" here refers to hymns and liturgical music brought
by the Church from Europe or America.

Anglican Folk Mass
R.C. Folk Mass
Mento Mass (R.C.)
Mento Mass (R.C.)
Folk Mass (R.C.)

own kind of religious and communal experience. And the
experience that so many of these songs express is possible
only after many hours in the open air, through the use of
rhythmic body movement which is often elevated to the
level of dance and the use of free, relaxed vocal expression
uninhibited by echoing walls or a rigid arrangement of
Furthermore, the service formats used in the
Established Churches are usually limited to an hour or so.
This demands a concentration of spiritual energy that is
possible only if the music used in the service maintains a
momentum: it must lead somewhere; for the more
time-bound we become, the greater becomes the challenge
to the poet and the musician to direct the intellect as well
as the emotions, to establish climaxes exactly where they
will be most effective. There is simply no time for the
cathartic, extended expression of religious spirit that one
finds in lower class churches.
Conscious of this, no doubt, a number of local churches
have brought to life "new creations" for their own use, in
their own language, suited to their own religious and
cultural sensibilities, as the list above illustrates.
What is most interesting and seems to bear out all
that has been said above is that the Churches that use
their own indigenous compositions are the ones that have
embraced the folk movement with enthusiasm and with
near unanimity. As illustration one need only name St.
Richards, Red Hills Road, which uses music of Mapletoft
Poulle and Barry Chevannes and Aquinas Centre which
uses music by Richard Ho Lung and Barry Chevannes.

Calvin, however, decided that the erection of an organ
in any church under his control would give rise to
I would never have drums in my church, because the
drum in Haiti is used as the symbol of voodoo.9
Instruments are neither secular or sacred. Nor is music.
It is our associations that make them so and induce us to
believe that the organ is suited to worship, that the guitar
is not.
In Reformation times the organ was a symbol of the
Roman church and organs in Switzerland were smashed to
pieces. Consequently singing in church was for years
unaccompanied. So great was the prejudice against the
use of the organ among the Reformed churches that even
today all singing at the Methodist Conference in England
remains unaccompanied, even though a splendid
instrument is available in the conference hall.
In its sometimes painful transition towards the
acceptance of folk music, the Church in Jamaica has faced
similar problems of association. Folk instruments such as
the drum, the guitar-and the tambourine are associated
with class. Folk music is automatically "low class". So are
Sects. And, since many members of local congregations
have worked hard to rise above their previous class status
or sectarian affiliation, a return to folk music for them
represents a return to the very background from which
they have worked hard to dissociate themselves.
It is no wonder that the church today is finding the
transition to the use of indigenous music one that is
fraught with inconsistency, emotionalism and contention.
Native born clergy have a hard time persuading the
members of their congregations that the use of folk or
folk-influenced music is now regarded as a positive act of

worship using God-given talents. Often the frequent use
of Folk music has resulted in the complete alienation of
the older members of certain churches. Only a new
generation, proud of its culture and less burdened with
class consciousness can respond to the "new" music.
To illustrate this, two extracts are taken from papers
written on studies undertaken by First Year students of
the United Theological College of the West Indies. They
are typical of what one finds in churches in the Corporate
Area. The first'0 is from a study of a Pembroke Hall
extension of the Catholic Church of Our Lady of the
Angels, Molynes Road:
"This church that I studied is made up of a congrega-
tion of about two hundred and it is a completely
"folk" church....
The instruments that are used are guitars, tam-
bourines and bongo drums....
When asked why such music was used the reply was
that basically it was cultural and because no one was
found to play the piano or organ that was there.
"There was a split reaction from the congregation
about this to the extent that some even refused to
come to church. The majority of the congregation are
young people and all of them attend school or work in
the community. The community is sort of lower
middle-class and the majority of the congregation is
formally educated. It is also observed that if a song in
patois or native dialect is given, the majority of the
congregation the older ones will steadily refuse
to sing such. An example of such a song is "Jesus
Tek Weh All Wi Sin" by Barry Chevannes.
"The majority of the young people are the ones
who accepted this type of song readily, but the older
and more educated members feel that to sing such a
song is to go back in history and is not making any
progress, and such a song is a complete reversal ...
It was noted that an 80 year old woman readily
appreciated this type of music, but an 18 year old
boy just bluntly refused to accept it, because of the
way he was brought up in his home setting. The
people in the countryside (mostly illiterate) would
accept this type of song and music but the members
feel that they are 'educated' and should stick more
to the type of traditional music.""
The second'2 is from a description of a folk mass held at
a socially more elevated church, St. Jude's Anglican
Church in Stony Hill:
"I observed that there was a reluctance on the
part of the older folk in the congregation to
participate in the singing. I observed that while the
prayers of the Liturgy were being sung in the
traditional, these participated ... participation (in
the folk music) came mainly from the young people's
section. I noticed an air of surprise on the faces of
some individuals.
"At the end of the last service that I attended
the minister appealed to the congregation, asking
them to appreciate this kind of music and worship
whenever it was celebrated."
It should thus not be assumed that the Church in
Jamaica has by any means "gone folk". Folk services
account for only a small proportion of the total number of
services held in most churches. Indeed, many churches
still regard the use of indigenous music as an unfortunate

8. Henry Raynor The Social History of Music. London. Barris and
Jenkins 1972 p. 121.
9. From an essay by a Haitian theological student.
10. Ms. Doris Farrington (by permission).

11. This type of service at Pembroke Hall has been discontinued for
the time being because the priest in charge, Fr. Antonnuci, has
returned to the States and the leading guitarist has emigrated.
12. Mr. M.O. Williams (by permission).
Continued on Page 47


The Re-discovery

, of an,,

Extinct Fruit Fly

mombinpraeoptans SEIN, Anastrepha suspensa(LOEW)
TINCT" Anastrepha ocresia (WALKER) (DIPTERA:
By L. Walter Van Whervin*
Some species of the family Tephritidae have been called
primary fruit flies because the adult flies lay their eggs in
healthy fruits and the larvae develop within the pulp,
causing the fruits to become wormy. Those kinds of fruits
that are constantly susceptible to their attack are called
host-fruits. This paper does not deal with the intricate
interrelationships between the species of Anastrepha in
Jamaica and their host-fruits but is primarily to record the
known and previously unknown species of fruits that are
susceptible to their infestations and partly, to de-
monstrate the need for adequate surveys that seek to
quantify the degree of host-specificity or lack of host-
specificity between a species of Anastrepha and a kind of
host-fruit. The interrelationships between the fruit flies
and their host-fruits (very simply) are namely. The female
fruit flies have an ovipositor, a needle-like structure, at
the posterior end of the abdomen (see, Fig. 1) which they
use to pierce the skin of the fruit and then lay their eggs
either in the (oviposition) punctures made by them or just
below the rind of the fruit; the eggs subsequently hatch
into maggots, the maggots feed on the pulp of the fruit
and at full maturity make an exit hole through which they
leave the fruit and pupate in the soil; adults eventually
emerge from the pupae in the soil to start the reproductive
cycle once more.
There are at least three species of primary fruit flies of
the genus Anastrepha in Jamaica, W.I. which are
currently important pests of a range of fruit crops. They
are Anastrepha mombinpraeoptans Sein, called the West
Indian fruit fly; Anastrepha suspense (Loew) formerly
unofficially called the Caribbean fruit fly but the more
appropriate common name the "Greater Antillean fruit
fly" was suggested by the author (van Whervin, 1974) and
Anastrepha ocresia (Walker), for which the common name
"the star apple fruit fly" is now suggested by the writer.
Apparently ocresia had not been collected in Jamaica
since 1849 (Stone, 1942; Foote, 1967 and Apeji, 1970) but
was recently rediscovered by the author in 1972. Previous
authors (Stone, 1942; Foote, 1967) have listed the
host-fruits as unknown for ocresia. This paper is probably
the first to list the larval food for the star apple fruit fly.
Although previous authors had listed some host-fruits in
Jamaica for mombinpraeoptans and suspense (see, van
Whervin, 1974) the author now feels that it was not only
necessary to undertake the first comprehensive survey to
determine the kinds of fruits that are infested by these two

species but also to attempt to estimate the probabilities of
one species displacing the other on any host-fruit if one
species were ever eliminated e.g. by the sterile-male-
release technique. There was also the possibility of
discovering new host-fruits. This is precisely what
happened and there is still a strong possibility of finding
new host-fruits and even a new species of Anastrepha in
unsurveyed woodland areas. The author was, too, rather
intrigued by the apparent "extinction" of ocresia (the star
apple fruit fly) and reasoned that it was still in Jamaica
but was not recently found probably because it infested
only non-economic crops in the wild. More importantly,
however, there were no statistics to indicate that
(a) adequate numbers (or weight) of fruits per kind of host-fruit were
(b) adequate numbers of adult fruit flies were obtained from three
samples for Anastrepha determination per species of host-fruit, and
(c) that the samples were obtained from adequate numbers of locations
and/or fully encompassed the seasons of the host-fruit.
Because of the lack of these statistics it was impossible to
say which species of Anastrepha, or whether both species,
were significant in the attack on guava fruits which can be
infested by either or both species. If the above three
criteria are not met one might be misled.
The most recent records of the three species of
Anastrepha in Jamaica have been by Stone (1942), Foote
(1967) and Apeji (1970). These authors had listed both
mombinpraeoptans and suspense as currently occurring in
Jamaica and explained that although ocresia had been
listed for Jamaica since 1849 it had not since been
collected on the island. The author (van Whervin, 1974)
also listed both mombinpraeoptans and suspense but
reported the discovery of a third species of Anastrepha in
Jamaica. This species has now been tentatively identified
by the author as ocresia since he has failed to obtain an
official identification of this species since 1972.
The criteria primarily used by the author for identifying
the adult Anastrepha obtained from any particular species
of fruit sampled was based on the following morphological
characters: Anastrepha mombinpraeoptans: 3 bright
longitudinal sulphur yellow stripes on the dorsal area of
the thorax (a constant character in all specimens
examined) the costal and S bands of the wings are joined
but the S and inverted V bands are disconnected (a
variable character) and, a short ovipositor; Anastrepha
suspense: the longitudinal stripes on the dorsal area of the
thorax are dull and indistinct, the bands on the wing are
darker than those of mombinpraeoptans and the costal
and the S shaped bands are disconnected (a variable
character), there is a dark spot on scutoscutellar suture (a
relatively constant character) and a short ovipositor;
Anastrepha ocresia: 3 bright longitudinal sulphur yellow
stripes on the dorsal area of the thorax, the costal and S
bands of the wing are always joined, the proximal arm of

SL. Walter Van Whervin was born in St. Elizabeth Jamaica and is Chief
Agricultural Officer (Entomology) of the Ministry of Agriculture. A
graduate of Cornell University and Guelph University he was elected
Fellow of the International Biographical Association 1973. Among his
publications are:- "The Mexican fruit fly, Anastrepha ludens in British
Honduras" also "Prospaltella opulenta in Jamaica and its displacement

of Eretmocerus serious" (PANS). He has co-authored "The ocurrence of
Aleurocanthus woglum Ashby in Barbados and the establishment of its
natural enemies". (FAO) and "The intrinsic rates of natural increase of
Trogoderma inclusum Leconte and Trogoderma variable Ballion"
(Ontario) 1972.

Photos C. Dennis Adams

Left to Right
Anastrepha ocresia, male
Anastrepha suspense, female
Anastrepha mombinpraeoptans,

the inverted V band is usually well developed but
disconnected from the S band (a variable character)
whereas the distal arm of the inverted V band is short,
curved and is usually separated from the proximal arm,
there is a dark spot on the scutoscutellar suture (a variable
character) and the ovipositor is relatively long, about
twice as long as that of either mombinpraeoptans or
In the course of study on the general field-ecology of
Anastrepha species samples of different kinds of fruits
were collected from different locations and sampling
covered the entire season for that kind of fruit. The
samples of each kind of fruit were weighed, numbered and
labelled and were held in the laboratory until they were
ready for dissection. At dissection the larvae per sample
were counted and then placed in trays with vermiculite, a
pupating medium. At adult emergence individuals from
each sample were examined to determine the species of
fruit flies that infested that particular kind of fruit.


The following fruits were found to be infested by the
larvae of Anastrepha mombinpraeoptans: Mango, Mangi-
fera indicia L., hog plum, Spondias mombin L.; the red
coat plum, Spondias purpurea L. (varieties small and
large); the yellow coat plum, Spondias purpurea form
Lutea F. and R. (varieties small and large); Jew plum,
Spondias dulcis S. Park ; guava, Psidium guajava L. and
Psidium montanum Sw. (mountain guava, endemic to
Jamaica); rose apple, Syzygium jambos (L.) Alston and
otaheite apple, Syzygium malaccense (L.) Merr. and
Perry whereas, the larval-food of Anastrepha suspense
were: guava, Psidium guajava and Psidium montanum
Sw.; rose apple, Syzygium jambos; Tropical almond,
Terminalia catappa L.; otaheite apple, Syzygium
malaccense and pimento, Pimenta dioica L. The
host-fruits so far discovered for Anastrepha ocresia are:
star apple, Chrysophyllum cainito L. and naseberry or
sapodilla, Manilkara zapota L.

Host-fruits o' Anas .

Legend: *M

= Anastrepha mombinpraeoptans Sein
= Anastrepha suspense (Loew)
= Anastrepha ocresia (Walker)


Date Host-fruit Locality No. of Species of adult fruit flies obtained Ratio of M:S:O*
fruit mombinpra suspense ocresia
flies ecptans
May to June '74 Mango Llandewey 386 386 0 0

December '74 Mango Llandewey 285 285 0 0
and Norris 671 671 671:0:0

June to July '74 Red-coat Llandewey, 979 979 0 0 979:0:0
plum Aeolus Valley
Luana and
Santa Cruz

May to July '74 Rose apple Llandewey, 213 0 213 0
Orange River, 44 14 30 0
Green Hill, 389 29 360 0
Irish Town, 76 51 25 0
New Castle 568 18 550 0
1290 112 1178 0 1:10.5:0
July to Aug. '74 Hog plum Luana and 1386 1386 0 0 1386:0:0
Santa Cruz

July to Aug. '74 Star apple Llandewey 1524 0 2 1522 0:1:761
July '74 Naseberry Llandewey 62 0 0 62 0:0:62
July to Nov. '74 Pimento Ross Craig 1092 0 1092 0 0:1092:0
Sept. to Oct. '74 Yellow-coat Llandewey 1712 1710 2 0 850:1:0
Sept. to Oct. '74 Jew plum Ross Craig 541 541 0 0 541:0:0
and Muirton
July to Oct. '74 Guava Springvale 4698 33 4665 0 1:141:0
August '74 Otaheite Guys Hill 146 114 32 0
August '74 Otaheite Grove Place 79 66 13 0
apple 225 180 45 0 4:1:0

The following gives an indication of the degree of
specificity or lack of specificity of each kind of host-fruit
to each species of Anastrepha (see, Table 1):
1) mango (Anacardiaceae) is infested by mombinpraeoptans only,
2) red coat plum (Anacardiaceae) is infested by mombinpraeoptans
3) yellow coat plum (Anacardiaceae) is infested by mombin-
praeoptans only,
4) hog plum (Anacardiaceae) is infested by mombinpraeoptans only,
5) Jew plum (Anacardiaceae) is infested by mombinpraeoptans only,
6) guava (Myrtaceae) is infested by both suspense and mombin-
praeoptans but the latter occurs to an insignificant extent being
only 0.7 per cent of the adult flies obtained from the host-fruit,
7) otaheite apple (Myrtaceae) is infested by both suspense and
8) rose apple (Myrtaceae) is infested by both mombinpraeoptans
and suspense but the latter is the dominant species of this host-
fruit being represented by 91.3 per cent of the adults that emerge
from larvae obtained from rose apple,
9) pimento (Myrtaceae) is infested by suspense only,
10) tropical almond (Combretaceae) is infested by suspense only,
11) star apple (Sapotaceae) is infested by both ocresia and suspense
but the extent to which the latter occurs in star apple is
insignificant being represented by only 0.13 per cent of the adults
that emerge from larvae obtained from star apple,
12) naseberry (Saptaceae) was infested by ocresia only but the number
of adults obtained from this host-fruit was too small to indicate
any specificity; suffice to say that it appears that naseberry is only
an occasional host of ocresia. Apeji (1970) lists naseberry as a host
of suspense. This species has not yet been found by the author
in naseberry.
It should be noted that Apeji (1970) unlike the present
author listed suspense for Jew plum and suspense only for
otaheite apple. Pimento was discovered for the first time
as a host-fruit of suspense.

The data presented in Table 1 indicate that Anastrepha
mombinpraeoptans Sein is the only species that infest the
Anacardiaceae (mangoes and plums) whereas Anastrepha
suspense (Loew) is the only species that infest the
Combretaceae (Tropical almond). Apeji (1970) (in the
absence of statistics) listed suspense only for Jew plum,
an Anacardiaceae. Of the 600 specimens of adults
obtained from that host-fruit and examined by the author
none were found. The data presented (Table 1) strongly
indicate that the Anacardiaceae is infested by mombin-
praeoptans only to any significant extent. With regards to
the Myrtaceae there is an overlapping of infestations by

both mombinpraeoptans and suspense; they both infest
guavas, rose apples, and otaheite apples but interestingly
suspense only was found to attack pimento berries, a
newly discovered host-fruit. The data of Table 1 strongly
indicate that suspense occupies a dominant niche in
guavas and rose apples but that mombinpraeoptans may
be the dominant species in otaheite apple. The otaheite
apple is now being listed for the first time for both
mombinpraeoptans and suspense whereas, previous
records had suspense only. This host-fruit is rarely
heavily infested by either or both species and this
accounts for the small numbers of adults examined in
Table 1.
The newly rediscovered Anastrepha ocresia (Walker)
has been found to infest two species of the Sapotaceae,
star apple and naseberry or sapodilla. The latter appears
to be an occasional host-fruit. It is evident that there are
other species of host-fruits yet to be discovered. This is
the first record in Jamaica and probably elsewhere of
ocresia infesting these two host-fruits; previously the
host-fruits have been listed as unknown.
The apparent discrepancies between previous authors'
and the present author's work may be due to inadequate
sampling of fruits in time and place by the former with the
result that inadequate numbers of adult fruit flies were
obtained and thus an insufficiency of data to quantify the
relationships of Anastrepha species and their host-fruits.


Thanks are due to the Commonwealth Institute of Entomology,
England, for the initial identification of Anastrepha mombinpraeoptans
Sein and Anastrepha suspense (Loew); Dr. T.H. Farr, Insect
Taxonomist, Institute of Jamaica, helped in establishing the identity of
the fruit flies and read the manuscript and Dr. C.D. Adams, Reader,
Botany Department, University of the West Indies for taking
photographs of Anastrepha species.

Apeji, S.A. (1970). The status of Anastrepha fruit flies in Jamaica.
Unpublished report of the Ministry of Agriculture, Jamaica. pp. 13.
Foote, R.H. (1967). A catalogue of theDipteraof the Americas South
of the United States. Family Tephritidae. Department de Zoologia,
Secretaria De Agricultura, Sao Paulo. Ent. Res. Div., Agric. Res. Serv.
U.S.D.A., Washington, D.C.
Stone, Alan (1942). The fruit flies of the genus Anastrepha.
Miscellaneous Publication of the U.S.D.A. No. 439. pp. 44.
van Whervin, L.W. (1974) Some fruit flies (Tephritidae) in Jamaica.
PANS Vol. 20 No. 1 pp. 11-19.

Continued from Page 44

encroachment of secularism, fit to be heard only at young
people's "socials" outside the precincts of any sacred
building, preferably in the church hall.

George Eaton Simpson. "Jamaican Cults" (Folkway Record Library).
Erik Routley, Twentieth Century Church Music (1964) Herbert
Jenkins. J.H. Kwabena Nketia. "The Contribution of African Culture
to Christian Worship". International Review of Missions Vol. 47 (1958)
Praise Yahweh My Soul Jamaican R.C. Archdiocesan Publication
1974. ed. Noel Dexter Sing a New Song Pub. CADEC 1973.
Spotlight Popular Folk Hymns in the Caribbean Today. Compiled by
students of U.T.C. (1973).


A Fuel Gas from Wastes
by K.E. Magnus and K.C. Lee,
Scientific Research Council, Jamaica.

The early name of "Marsh Gas" which was given to
methane indicates that this gas was known to occur
naturally over marshes where it occasionally caught fire to
produce the will-o-the-wisp. This methane was produced
by the anaerobic decomposition of plant materials by
bacteria in a process which long preceded chemical
production of this gas. The gas is most easily obtained
from the dung of some animals under anaerobic conditions
and this has been used in some parts of the world to
produce a fuel gas to which the name Biogas has often
been applied.
The conditions under which this takes place are so
simple that it is surprising that its use is not more
widespread. In a simple situation the animal dung is
washed into a pit with an air-tight cover which is lined by
concrete or other suitable material (Figure 1). The dung is
allowed to stand until anaerobic conditions are achieved
and methane production begins. The bacteria already
present in the dung are capable of carrying out the
transformation and all that is necessary is to have a
release valve in the cover of the pit to make the methane

available for use. In such a simple structure the methane
is under very low pressure and must therefore be used at
relatively short distances from the pit. If the dung is
placed in a pressure vessel then the gas will be produced in
conditions which will allow some build up of pressure
(Figure 2). The advantage of having gas at high pressure
must be balanced against the increased cost of the
pressure vessel over the simple pit. In a typical case the
dung from 12 pigs or 2 cows will provide about 50 cubic
feet (2.3 lb) of methane per day, which will supply the
cooking needs of a family of four or five. The rate of
production of methane can be increased by stirring and by
increasing the temperature but the latter is limited by
death of the bacteria if the temperature is allowed to go
too high. Note, however, that the gas evolved is often not
pure methane, and although it is contaminated by
carbondioxide which will reduce the temperature of the
flame, it usually has a calorific value of about 1000 BTU
per standard cubic foot. The carbondioxide can be
removed by scrubbing but this will increase the cost of

Methane Generator

engineer Charles Phillips reading
the meter of his methane gas
regulator. The two cylinders are
called digesters. Pig manure is
placed inside to begin the process
for producing cooking gas.
Daily News photo by
Herbert Hewett

Dung can be supplemented by the addition of vegetable
waste from the farm but this must be done in a judicious
fashion since the carbon to nitrogen ratio in the fermenter
must be retained within limits appropriate to the growth
of the right bacteria. Production of biogas on a small scale
by farmers is well established in many countries and the
know-how is available for the use of our own farming
community. The possibilities of producing this fuel gas on
a large scale in the urban situation is being studied in
many places and pilot plants have been established in
North America for example for biogas generation from
sewage or sewage/garbage mixtures. Figures 3 and 4
show flow diagrams of processes for the conversion of
these city wastes into valuable fuel. It must be noted
however, that these processes are not fully past the
experimental stage, and capital costs appear at this stage
to be fairly high. However, it is not inconceivable that
some cities may find it appropriate to solve early their
waste disposal problems by its conversion to the fuel gas.
The use of biogas as a cooking fuel presents no
problems; existing gas cookers can usually be used with
only slight modification. Propane is a more usually
encountered cooking gas and it may be interesting to
compare the two. The heat combustion of methane
(formula: CH4) is 210.8 K cal per g mole and the heat of
combustion of propane (formula: C3Hs) is 526.3 K cal per g
mole. This means that on a weight basis methane is very
slightly better as a fuel than propane but on the basis of
equal volumes it evolves about 2.5 times less heat than
propane on burning.
The challenge is there for the use of this fuel to provide
other amenities and some of these seem not to be
insurmountable. Thus as far as individual homes are
concerned it should be possible to adapt the use of biogas
for lighting purposes by employing fixtures using
incandescent mantles, for refrigeration using the
"Electrolux" type of refrigerator and for running radios
by use of a thermo-electric device recently developed by
the Russians. As an alternative, and indeed to supply the
full power requirement of a household, it may be possible
to use biogas to run an electric generator since it can be
used as fuel for an internal combustion engine. For use in
motor cars the use of cylinders of highly compressed or
liquified methane is a possibility but because the critical
temperature of methane is 82.1 C of the critical



o80) organic


Siutolumns and 1 ater
RA.. ,f Water
,e 95 99/7
Prd I Secondary
S5sjdg feed I/2sludge feed
S5/ Ssorld,7 11/2 27 solids)


Inerts (20,)

Non -bodegradable




digested sludge

Oi pOSdl

CH, -CO0


Flow diagram of anaerobic digestion

pressure 45.8 atmosphere (615 psig) liquifying the gas is
not easy and in a large modern plant 15 kwh of energy is
needed to liquify one ton (for comparison note that the
production of one ton of ice from water requires 0.75 kwh
of energy), and in a small operation the figure would be


V r7Water. 02,CH4

Water (97

Block diagram
of Biogas




and pun

from dk

MAY JUNE 1973,
VOL. 14, No. 3.

Units operated 5 days pr week. hours per day

None-lrous metals
Ferrlis sciap (glass & inorgaNcs)



proportionately much greater. As a result in simple
operations the methane is used directly from the
production unit or perhaps from relatively low pressure
storage tanks.
Futuristic projections are being developed in some
countries for a self-sufficient homestead in which solar
power is used together with anaerobic production of
methane as sources of energy. In this system solar energy
heats water and promotes the growth of algae which are
fed to livestock; the livestock produce dung from which

the methane is derived (Figures 5a and 5b). It is visualized
in such a situation that the homesteader can have a high
degree of self-sufficiency and yet enjoy a high standard of
living. These projections highlight ways in which non-
traditional sources of power may be of use to us and even
if the idea of occupying the same building as our farm
animals does not appeal to us (as shown in Figure 5a) the
thinking that goes into making such projections should
serve as object lessons in how to achieve a greater measure
of energy self-sufficiency.

Units operated continuously
Prpelille gias


H 0

Raw sewage sludge
4--- Biogas

- -WMMMim

Natural History Column

On January 15, 1975, the writer was making general
plant collections in the Negril area of Jamaica.
e.4 accompanied by a young field-assistant named Lester
Dinall. While we were examining the low herbage which
extends in a wide swathe along the main highway about
2.5 miles north of Negril Village, Lester spotted a little
flowering plant which he thought looked interesting, so he
showed it to me. I realized at once that it was an orchid
unrecorded for Jamaica and unknown to me. We searched
for more plants for a considerable distance both ways
along the highway, and found a few more scattered here
and there over a distance of about a mile.
Aided by a suggestion from Dr. C.D. Adams, and with
the help of literature in the Institute library plus a
photograph filed in our herbarium, I was able to identify
this plant as Zeuxine strateumatica.
This little terrestrial orchid, which seldom grows more
than a few inches high, has a wide natural distribution in
southeast Asia, extending to parts of Indonesia, the
Philippines and Japan. It is also unusual among orchids in
being an annual, passing through its entire life-cycle in
about 10 months. The normal flowering time is December
and January.
In 1936, it was first discovered in Florida, having come
into that area by unknown means. Probably the tiny seeds
1,', were accidentally introduced on some type of plant
material from China or India. Since 1936, Zeuxine has
become very common throughout the Florida peninsula.
It comes up unexpectedly in all sorts of places swamps,
lawns, roadsides, flower-pots, etc. Now that it has
reached Jamaica, perhaps on the feet of a visitor from
Florida, we can expect it to spread all about!

George R. Proctor
Institute of Jamaica

Both Specimens of Tropidophis maculatus, or Thunder
Snake were found at Stony Hill by 11 year old Nigel
A rare albino, lacks the markings evident on the Constrictor family it seldom exceeds 18" in length.
normal snake. This species, native to Jamaica, is a Its diet appears to consist of small frogs, lizards and
non poisonous and gentle snake which allows itself insects. This albino, which has died since the photo-
to be handled. There are no poisonous snakes in graph was taken is preserved in the Zoological
Jamaica. collections at the Institute of Jamaica.
Although the Thunder Snake belongs to the Boa

[Repeat from Vol. 8 No. 4


The Disavantaged

and Alternatives of


Instructional Delivery Systems

by Ronald J. Samuda author of

It would be impossible in the course of this paper to
deal fully or in detail with the disadvantages and
alternatives of the instructional delivery systems. I would
therefore like to focus on what seem to me to be the
highlights of the problem, and then narrow attention on
the pitfalls and alternatives of assessment which I
consider to be a central issue.
Let us begin with the disadvantages. First, it is
undesirable that the traditional school and other
instructional systems work well only for the traditional
student. What has caused the morass in which we find
ourselves today is the fact that we have been trying to fit
the nontraditional type of student into a tight traditional
mode. Moreover, educational leaders are being faced with
extremely difficult decisions while they struggle to be
accountable to the mass of the population.
For many years it has been taken for granted that
education in the U.S. has always been a democratic
enterprise. Yet, it was only in 1954 that the segregation of
blacks was outlawed. But the passing of a law does not
automatically change the ingrained attitudes and
practices of educators and the customs of institutions. As
the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights indicated in 1966 in
its national survey Equality of Educational Opportunity:
when measured by that yard yardstick
(segregation), American public education
remains largely unequal in most regions of
the country, including all those where
Negroes form any significant proportion of
the population ... the great majority of
American children attend schools that are
largely segregated that is, almost all of
their fellow students are of the same racial
background as they are.
The Commission's Report further showed that
sixty-five percent of all first grade black pupils surveyed
attend schools that have an enrollment of 90 percent or
more black, while almost 80 percent of all first grade white
students surveyed attend schools that are 90 percent or
more white....
The pressure on schools to provide what in New Jersey
has been constitutionally defined as a "thorough and
efficient" education has caused school systems generally
to take one of two basic approaches. On the one hand,
compensatory education programmes in schools which
Dr. Ronald J. Samuda was born in Mandeville, Jamaica, 23rd February
1922. He served in the Royal Air Force from 1941 1946. Associate
Professor, Department of Applied Human Development and Guidance,
Assistant Dean for Program Development, and Director of the Center
for Ethnic Studies at Teachers College, Columbia University, and

house a majority of black and other minority students,
and on the other hand, "school desegregation" which
assumes that by mixing ethnic groups, and different
socio-economic classes, the education of the under-
privileged students will be consequently improved. What
is defined as compensatory education has generally
developed to courses of remedial instruction and intensive
attention to students in academic difficulty. Some forms
of compensation would stress cultural enrichment in the
attempt to give the poorer students experiences similar to
those of their richer peers. Another form would focus upon
attitudes and self concept through the study of Black
history and programmes geared to the life style of the
minority group. Other forms of compensatory education
involve preschool training especially in verbal skills as
well as cultural enrichment activities before the child
reaches the primary grades.
In general, findings seem to point to the failure of such
compensatory education programmes to reach the
objectives expected. In its report on Racial Isolation in
the Public Schools, the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights
(1967) pointed to the absence of significant differences
between students who had been enrolled in the twenty
programmes reviewed and students who had not
participated. The Commission also found that in the case
of the Syracuse study, in particular, the bussed students
achieved at a rate more than double that of the
achievement rate of the students in the compensatory
At this point, I would like to summarize what I see as
the principal problems or disadvantages which face
educators as they try to grapple with the concept of mass
First, it is assumed that there is a universal set of
pre-determined values and experiences in which the
entire population partakes. No account is taken of
differences in ethnic backgrounds; thus the typical
educator tends to look at education from a white
middle class standpoint only.
Second, the focus has been on teaching and on try-
ing to find the most effective way of producing the
skilful teacher rather than on concentrating upon the
complexities and individual learner.
Third, the system has been geared to the average
or to the group rather than to the individual. That
Consultant & Professional Associate of the Educational Testing
Service, Princeton N.J.
This paper is from the 'Equal Access Equal Opportunity' Conference
held at the Florida A & M University, August 1974.

has been largely an outcome of the norm-referenced
assessment syndrome.
Fourth, the orientation of the educational system
has been such that the blame for not learning
especially in the case of the nontraditional student
has been placed on the assumed deficiency of the
learner rather than on the school and the teacher.
Fifth, there has been a lack of communication be-
tween the findings of educational research and the
everyday practical application of the teaching-learn-
ing process. Very little of what has been discovered in
research has affected the practice of instructional
delivery systems.
I would argue that the underlying difficulties in coping
with mass education and the plethora of research and
development efforts in various sectors of the educational
field are related to certain basic fallacies. I would further
argue that as long as we educators cling to those fallacies,
the pedagogical enterprise of schools, colleges, and
universities will continue to be bogged in the morass of an
outworn and redundant philosophy of education.
Look at some of the more commonly held beliefs
concerning education. First, educators, and the general
public, continue to believe that it is possible to change the
function of the school and other educational institutions in
such a way that the ordinary man will be able to profit
from instruction, become motivated to follow the
traditional mode of learning, and thereby derive social and
economic mobility as the reward of his efforts. Such a
stance is predicated on the notion that the school can
become the lever of change and can be adapted to the
needs of all learners. Those who support such a
philosophic stance hold that by opening the gates of the
educational institutions, by making educational oppor-
tunity available to all, they can in fact establish a truly
democratic educational process.
The second fallacy lies in the belief that the educational
enterprise can be perfected or, at least, salvaged by
training teachers who are competent, compassionate, and
committed to the task of teaching. The catchwords of the
current pedagogical establishment are 'competency-
based' or 'proficiency-based' teacher education. Such a
methodology seeks to link the process of teaching to
certain pre-determined behavioral objectives which can
be measured in order to assess the efficacy of the teaching
strategies employed and the degree to which students
profit from the instructional process. A related trend of
teacher education seeks to identify those teachers who
have proved themselves successful in transmitting
knowledge and skills, to pinpoint the characteristics and
strategies they employ and, thus, by compiling a list of
empirically determined teaching methods and individual
characteristics, to prescribe those essential factors which
contribute to the making of the effective teacher.
The third fallacy is related to attempts to democratize
existing educational opportunities by simply creating
'open-door' institutions while continuing to hold firm the
traditional standards and classroom methods which have
persisted for centuries. In response to the attacks of
minorities and underprivileged elements of society, many
colleges and universities have given way to the insistent
demands and have introduced alternative methods of
admission. Some have even gone so far as to eliminate, for
atypical students, the need to be evaluated in terms of
aptitude tests. Instead, they have resorted to an
examination of Grade Point Averages, recommendations
from teachers and counsellors, and documentation of
performance as a member of the student body through
such extra-curricular activities as can be identified. While

such alternative methods of admission have permitted
some non-standard students to enter, progress, and
graduate in traditional programmes of higher education,
the record, also shows that many who manage to gain
access fall by the wayside. The attrition rate of minorities
and other atypical students for example has been one
major concern of many departments of higher education.
Such movements have resulted in the angry protests of
college teachers who are, in turn, accused to taking elitist
and racist attitudes. The liberals, on the other hand,
would soften the college curriculum, introduce ethnically-
relevant programmes, develop 'remedial' and culturally-
supportive projects to bring the underachieving poor or
minority student up to par.
In general, the panacea seems to rest in attempts to
patch the educational system, or to open it up so as to
absorb the new elements of nontraditional students. The
premise of most educators and social scientists is that it is
possible to make the traditional institution work: if only
they could find the right kind of teaching methodology; if
only they could find the right kind of person with the right
kind of mission for teaching; if only they could find the
right kind of training and that optimum mix of theory and
practice. An extension of that premise is advanced by
those who seek to change the learning environment or
those who give credence to the conceptual notions of
human ecology gradual alterations in the learning
situation or in the system itself.
It is the contention of this paper that while all those
movements represent new perspectives, they however fail
to take into account the bankruptcy of the total teaching-
learning approach borrowed from a past era. The
argument is based on the observation that there are many
well-meaning people who still believe that the elementary,
secondary, and higher educational institutions were,
indeed, intended as a right for all citizens in a democratic
society. Moreover, there seems to be an implicit belief that
the socio-political organization of Western countries is
indeed democratic. There is an unquestioned assumption
that the school was made for the mass and that what is
needed to make education more democratic is simply
better teachers and increased opportunities for the under-
While social scientists continue to harbour such
fallacies they will not solve the problems that face us in
the 1980's. Originally, education was the prerogative of
the elite; later, it became accessible to those who could
afford to pay the fees of preparatory and secondary
academic institutions which, in turn, led to the privileges
of professional degrees. Schools were fundamentally the
avenues through which the privileged members of society
passed on the way to positions of power and influence.
Still later, though retaining much of that aristocratic
perspective, educational endeavours became the province
of the 'deserving poor' through private, religious, and
philanthropic initiative. And, the twentieth century saw
the advent of an increasing emphasis upon a meritocratic
approach to education, which psychometric technology
helped to bolster by carefully designing, selecting and
validating certain school-related tasks in such omnibus
packages as the Scholastic Aptitude Test or the group
intelligence test, the degree of a student's aptitude to
perform in a certain kind of curriculum, could be
measured. Thus, tests came to serve a sorting and
selective function for they could identify those individuals
who were likely to do well in the traditional university
course; help teachers group students in terms of their
native abilities; and help psychologists and administra-
tors devise special classes for poor academic achievers.
But, throughout all these phases of educational change,

the school has remained a middle-class institution,
manned by middle-class people espousing middle-class
values. The last statement is not intended to condemn.
What else could the school be? How could teachers be
otherwise? Were they not products of that system with its
careful sorting devices, with its underlying conditioning
process tied to an established set of values.
The emphasis on the procedures for making better
teachers has been largely misplaced, for the demands on
teachers to do a better job will not create major changes in
the learning process until it is realized that the teacher has
neither the time, the expertise, nor the opportunity to
match instruction to each individual student. Teachers
have been asked to do more and more, without being
provided with the resources that they need to do a better
job; they have been expected to work under impossible
conditions of large heterogeneous classes of students and
gear instruction to a wide scatter of abilities. In a world of
technology, most educators have failed to identify the gap
in the educational process, between the teacher and the
learner; there is a need for a new kind of expertise the
resource developer. For schools and colleges are
redundant as they presently exist, requiring of each
teacher that he or she should, as part of the job, tease out
the elements of the course of instruction, and develop
strategies for instruction, for discovering individual
student weaknesses, and for evaluating the degree of
proficiency achieved by each student at the end of
Too often, the practices of teachers at all levels of
institutional systems flow from subjective and disorgan-
ized approaches to teaching. The result is that those
students who manage to jump the hurdles of the process
often do so despite the inefficiency of the process;
moreover, the problems of basic education remain
unsolved in the elementary and secondary schools, and
the attrition rate of many colleges reaches as high a level
as fifty percent or even higher. Consider the waste in
terms of professional man-hours and the even more
significant effect in terms of the impact on the student
experiencing failure.
What is proposed here, is that there is a need for a
massive effort to move towards the development of
resources for the teaching-learning process to become
efficient. The point is that the traditional school while it
may be appropriate for the middle-class and the
upper-class types of students, is redundant as far as it
attempts to provide mass education. The private
'ivy-league' elitist type of education is doomed, for the
model of education for the future rests in those
procedures, strategies, and perspectives comprised in
such organizations as the 'Open University'. Such an
organization does not depend, for success on the vagaries
of intuitive teaching procedures, but it uses all that is
known in terms of media, computer technology,
systematic formative and summative evaluation, pro-
grammed instruction, and any means promising to be
effective to develop kits of resource materials for each unit
of courses offered. The new methodology of the 'Open
University' type of institution does not mean the end of
face-to-face contact between teacher and student; that is a
necessary and essential element of the operation. But, the
basic difference between the traditional and the open
university lies in the careful preparation of materials, in
the empirically determined selection of those methods
which work, and primarily, in the application of
technology to the educational process.
The success of packaged and meticulously prepared
courses and methods of learning, demonstrated by private
concerns like Bell and Howell and International Business

Machines,rest mainly in the same sort of approaches that
of the 'Open University'. Similar packaged courses and
methods are employed by the Defence Language School
located at Monterey, California. In such institutions,
teaching and learning are not left to the singular efforts of
the individual teacher. Instead, they combine the applied
science of technology, graduated increments of learning,
varieties of strategies and media, and procedures of
evaluation which help teacher and student to discover
after a given course of instruction whether a satisfactory
level of competence or mastery has been achieved in
relation to the stated objectives of a given course.
Additionally, systematic evaluation includes continuous
feedback to students in order that they may themselves
judge their level of achievement and identify gaps in the
learning of course material. Finally, evaluation procedures
help in the judgment of the effectiveness or the strategies
and materials employed so that the system of teaching
and learning becomes a self-correcting one with its own
built-in control mechanism.
Experiments in England, in Mexico, and in some of the
developing countries of Africa, have proved the value of
the 'Open University'. Such an educational trend
represents the wave of the future since, for the first time in
the history of educational practice, the education of the
mass can become a reality. We can shed the vestiges of
inequities linked to a class-bound, and insiduously elitist
system of education which tended to divide people within
particular cultures and represented the principal anchor of
a divisive caste system within the American socio-political
But, what are the implications of such a movement?
This approach could affect every kind of institution and
every aspect of the total educational enterprise. If it works
for higher education, why not for the secondary or
elementary levels? Why not, indeed? And, if what seems
to be the inevitable extension of the approach is accepted,
would it not also mean a drastic shift in the conceptualiza-
tion of teacher training in all its ramifications. Rather
than flailing around to find the kind of people who might
become effective teachers, schools of education would be
able to specify more definitively, and cultivate, those
characteristics, skills, and competence to be sought in
potential educators. For one thing, at least two kinds of
professional teachers would be needed those who
devote themselves to the development, recycling and
remodelling of resource materials; and, those who perform
the actual face-to-face tuition and counseling. There
would be the designers, on the one hand, and the
implementers, on the other hand. The implication for
teacher education would be, essentially, to prepare people
within the total educational enterprise for different kinds
of functions. No longer would the approach to the task of
education remain a hit-or-miss affair. Institutions of
teacher education would be in a far better position to seek
the special aspects of temperament and competence which
seem most appropriate for a particular educational
specialty, and the pedagogical faculty could thus
concentrate on training those special requisite pro-
ficiencies related to the chosen aspect of the profession.
The structure, architecture, faculty, and programmes
at teacher training institutions would necessarily change.
If it becomes part of the task of Schools of Education to
produce educational resource developers of educational
technologists, it is obvious that the very nature of the
teaching faculty, as well as the organization of the
curriculum of teacher training institutions would be
subjected to critical evaluation and change. Instead of
perpetuating the tendency to romanticize the role of the
teacher, to see him as a generalist capable of anything, the

proposed model of teaching and learning is one which
recognizes the essential role of the teacher as well as his
limitations (no matter how creative and innovative) in
terms of the resources essential to maximize his function
and guarantee that learning will occur in accordance with
the cognitive level and particular needs of each individual
student. In other words, by pre-designing learning
experiences, by providing the teacher with descriptive and
diagnostic assessment instruments, and, by programming
instruction in such a way that learning is gradual and
incremental, we can build in the success cycle; we can
insure the positive reinforcement of students and their
consequent motivation through realistic and progressive
assessment procedures. Such a process should help to
structure and focus the role of the teacher. Rather than
tending to become more impersonal, the relationship of
teacher and learner can instead become more meaningful.
The teacher will be relieved of the onerous and impossible
tasks of attempting to cater to a wide spread of abilities,
and of planning units and lessons. Scientifically prepared,
these will utilize every means of media expertise;
technologically perfected and reworked they will meet the
needs of individual learners. Given the implementation of
such a model, one can envision changes in the programme
of teacher education which includes and emphasizes those
essential elements articulated by B. Othaniel Smith et al
in Teachers for a Real World where the authors call for the
kind of teacher-training and learning that comprise
relevance, sensitivity and insight, individualized instruc-
tion, reality oriented protocol materials, and alterations in
the training complex.
In their call for relevance, Smith and his associates
stressed the need to deal with the critical issues of
education today primarily the needs of minorities and
of those students who come from the urban inner cities.
By delimiting the task of teaching and by structuring the
role of the teacher we would have the advantage of
changing selection processes, programme content, and
methods of instruction. We would be in a position to take
account of the different learning styles of minorities and
match instructional processes to the special needs of those
individuals whose background and make-up differ
markedly from that of the majority. We can discard
invidious comparisons of groups of different social classes
and of individuals from different ethnic origins and begin
to focus upon what is relevant to the individual student.
In seeking the candidates for each subspecialty of the
teaching profession, teacher training faculties will be able
to place greater stress on sensitivity and insight. They
will be in a better position to prepare those people who can
understand and cope with the problems of Black, Puerto
Rican, Mexican, Indian and poor white students. Instead
of focussing upon the pre-requisites which almost tend to
prescribe that teaching candidates must be selected from
middle-class backgrounds because of the heavy de-
pendence upon standard academic requirements. It is
clear that, given the structure of pre-designed resource
materials, and an organization which can comprise master
teachers, associates, and teacher aides, we would be in a
position to diversify the educational tasks and employ
individual educators in accordance with the need.
Furthermore, through the application of more advanced
technology, we could rid the teacher of the debilitating
housekeeping duties which are often extraneous to the
business of education. By classifying tasks and employing
personnel with different skills, we can recognize that
handicaps emanate from the situations in which minority
students find themselves and focus upon the essential
need to understand the cultural and social background of
individual students.

Within a framework which emphasizes the reality-
orientation of teaching and learning, teacher education
would necessarily change in the organization and selection
of materials; protocol materials would necessarily be
linked to behavioral situations, and employ the use of
simulated cassettes, video-tape, modelling, and built-in
reinforcement. But what is also significant, in terms of the
organization of the teacher training establishment, is that
no longer would professional training be so firmly rooted
in the colleges and universities; instead, there would be an
increasing emphasis upon links with the community. One
would envisage that practising educational personnel and
trainees would require easy access to schools and
universities, but instead of depending upon lectures for
method courses, the teacher would depend upon the
facilities of a learning centre, and concomitantly, teacher
preparation would emphasize practice and applied theory
while research would be left to the resource development
arm of the profession. Prepackaged materials would
become part of the major delivery system of research; and,
rather than reading, the practitioner would be doing and
applying what is known and developed.
The adoption of such a change in educational practice
would represent a culmination of several schools of
thought and theories related to the measurement and
education of minorities in particular. But the general
effect would be beneficial, in my view, for majority
students as well since it would represent a refinement of
educational practices based on the most advanced
research conclusions. Such a trend, therefore, calls for an
emphasis on description and prescription rather than on
selection and prediction in order to facilitate equal
educational opportunities. Concepts such as remedial
education would become redundant; and so would the
notion of compensatory education. Such notions as
already pointed out, depend on predetermined attitudes
and values which tend to stigmatize and to label, and the
effect is to shift the responsibility for learning on to the
learner only without taking into account his state of
readiness or his entering behaviour. What I am calling for
here is a process which gets rid of the very notion of failure
and instead, focuses upon the optimization of the
learning situation for each individual according to his very
need. Linked to the ideas of John Carroll and Robert
Gagne who call for a conceptual model of mastery learning
and individually tailored experiences bolstered by the
technology of resource development and psychometrics;
such a notion represents an extension of educational
opportunity for the mass of citizens through individual-
ized prescriptive educational planning. Thus, instead of
seeking to abolish tests, psychometrics becomes the
fundamental means by which we can begin to make
education more accessible to the underprivileged elements
of society without penalizing the individual for not
belonging to the middle-class mainstream culture. The
primary objective of testing becomes not just one of
discovering where the individual is on a scale of attain-
ment, or of estimating his chances of success on a
particular course of study, but it consists in diagnosing in
some detail what he can and cannot do so as to plan those
strategies which will optimize learning. It further
recognizes that in order to gear instruction to individual
needs, something must be known about the verbal and
cognitive style of the student. By testing, within the
context of the individual's linguistic frame of reference, we
can gauge the level and quality of his intellectual
functioning and that of his academic attainment. But,
judgments of mental capacity must take into account such
factors as health and nutritional status, as well as the
social and cultural environmental factors impinging upon
academic and social development. Such a trend implies as

well, an extension of existing tests whereby patterns of
achievement in any given subject area would provide
qualitative descriptions or profiles in terms of the level of
skill or knowledge, and as well, an account of those
particular gaps or deficiencies towards which instruction
should be focused. Thus, test procedures would be
directed towards the broadening of the varieties of
competencies and skills, not merely through objective
item types, but, additionally, through open-ended
probes designed to incorporate atypical patterns and
varieties of learning. Such a trend seeks also to
incorporate the work of David McClelland within the
corpus of psychometric technology by stressing measures
of ego development and motivation which depend upon
operant (or tree associative) thought patterns in assessing
non-academic learning such as social competence, coping
skills, political and avocational skills.
I n t h' final analysis, we need to look at our purposes for
tle:ting. If testing is to serve a selective and sorting


symbol of the Literacy Campaign in

function, and if indeed psychometric technology is
intended to preserve an elite, then it follows that
traditional procedures for measuring intelligence and
scholastic aptitude, tied to a set of middle-class
ethnocentric norms, will serve that function very well.
However, if it is our purpose to serve the mass of citizens,
and if it is our goal to make measurement more facilitative
for the education of the poor, of the minority student, and
of the atypical individual, then we will need to expand our
research endeavours so that psychometric technology
becomes the handmaiden of educational innovation in
optimizing the individual's competence. Through the
qualitative analysis of achievement and weaknesses, we
can point the way towards the modification of patterns of
instruction which will match the individual needs of
individual students. It is therefore the hope of such a
philosophy of testing to achieve true equality of
educational opportunity.

Photo Errol Harvey



LEFT: Wooden sculpture ac-
cents animal forms in decora-
tive and functional designs.

BELOW: Natural coloured wool
dyed with vegetable dyes are
used to make household and
personal items. A bedspread
is at centre.


Aa 1



RIGHT: Glass, unknown to the ancient Mexicans, was introduced
by the conquistadores. The shares of the glass objects show the skill
developed by Mexicans in this art.
ABOVE: Exhibits from the Huichol region include bags with intricate
beadwork in geometrical patterns typical of the Indian population.

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