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GERT OO STINDIEIN ME M ORY OF HAR M ANNUS HOET I NK 1931-2005One and the same person may be considered white in the Dominican Republic or Puerto Rico, and coloured in Jamaica, Martinique, or Curaao; this difference must be explained in terms of socially determined somat i c norms. T he same person may be called a N egro in Georgia; this must be explained by the historical evolution of social structure in the S outhern U nited S tates wrote Harmannus better known as Harry Hoetink, in his seminal work The Two Variants in Caribbean Race Relations (1967). F our decades later, this quotation may seem to border on the tautological. Y et at the time of its writing, race and essentialized racial identities were widely understood as the unchanging core issues modeling the societies of the Caribbean, and the Americas at large. Harry Hoetink was a pioneer among the first generation of post-World War II scholars who helped to rethink the meaning of race and color in the wider Caribbean. Departing from a comparative historical and sociological perspective, Hoetink did not shy away from bringing social psychology into his analysis, as in his introduction of the concepts of somatic norm image and somatic distance. However much he may have been educated in a Western mold, his writings demonstrate a resolute rejection of unjustifiable generalizations based on the ideal-typical Western homogeneous society, which unfortu nately keeps producing the conceptual framework for the sociological analy sis of completely different types of society ( Slavery and Race Relations in the Americas 1973). Remarkably, Harry Hoetink developed such insights as an outsider to the region. Born in the town of Groningen, in the north of the Netherlands, he studied social geography in Amsterdam and embarked for Curaao in 1953, at only twenty-two years old, to become a secondary-school teacher on this Dutch Caribbean island. After this first arrival in the Caribbean, he immediately became an observant outsider and soon an honorary insider. In Curaao, he met his future wife Ligia Espinal, who strongly contributed to his initiation into Curaaoan society as well as into the society of her native Dominican R epublic.
6 In 1958, he defended his dissertation on the social structure of pre-twen tieth-century-Curaao, written while on the island, at Leiden U niversity. His reputation as a major scholar on race relations in the Caribbean and the A mericas at large was established in the late 1960s and early 1970s with the publication of The Two Variants in Caribbean Race Relations and Slavery and Race Relations in the Americas Moreover, in 1971 he published his seminal historical study El pueblo dominicano (published in the U nited S tates as The Dominican People in 1982). By then he had been a professor at the U niversity of Puerto R ico (1960-64) and the director of the U P R s Institute of Caribbean S tudies (1970-75), as well as a visiting professor at Y ale and the U niversity of T exas, A ustin (1969). He was particularly proud of the special title of profe sor visitante permanente conferred on him in 1981 by the U niversidad Madre y Maestra (in S antiago, Dominican R epublic). His writin g s are characterized by erudition, a comparative perspective, and a truly independent gaze; former students recollect that his teachings had the same merits. After two sojourns in the Americas (1953-64 and again in 1969-75), Hoetink spent the remainder of his academic career, and indeed his life, in the Netherlands, serving as the director of the Centre for Latin American Studies and Documentation (CEDLA) in Amsterdam (1964-68 and again from 1975-77) and as a professor at the universities of R otterdam (1964-68) and U trecht (1977-83). Perhaps, in retrospect, this was not the happiest time of his scholarly life, as much of his energy was taken up with time-consum ing and often tedious university bureaucracy. Nonetheless, he continued to be a major figure in Caribbean studies by dint of a long series of articles, because of his continuing engagement with his two chosen Caribbean homelands, Curaao and the Dominican R epublic, and because of his decisive role, with Richard and Sally Price, in trans forming the formerly Dutch-language West-Indische Gids into the New West Indian Guide as it stands today. He was awarded many academic distinctions as well as a high royal distinction. In 2001, he was appointed an honorary member of the KITLV/Royal Netherlands Institute of Southeast Asian and Caribbean S tudies, the publisher of the NWIG Harry Hoetink will be dearly missed as a thinker, and for many of us also as a friend and caballero in the best possible meaning of these words. When the concept of ethnicity made an academic comeback in the 1990s, his work retained much of its original relevance. Although he had forcefully argued against the reification of race and color as unchanging propositions, he also objected to the extreme constructionist readings which came to prevail in much scholarly writing of the past two decades. He did not really need to rethink his approach. A s early as 1967, he cautioned in The Two Variants in Caribbean Race Relations that The sociologists exposure of racial preju dices as mere myths will not put an end to their psycho-social reality, nor will his diagnosis of these prejudices as a mere defense spell their doom. O n the contrary optimism is not the most natural reaction to the race problem.
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005):7-30 LISE WINER IND I C LEX I CON I N THE E NG LI SH/ C REO L E OF T R I N I DADINTRODUCTIONT his paper examines the contemporary component of the E nglish/ C reole of T rinidad that is derived from languages (almost entirely Bhojpuri) of India. 1 It begins with an explanation of the methodology of determining the 1,844word corpus, 2 and a discussion of various pitfalls in determining deriva tions. The lexical items in the corpus are then described and categorized by sociocultural domains. The final section examines evidence for the degree to which particular words have been mainstreamed within the non-Indian population of T rinidad. Between 1845 and 1917, almost 144,000 people came from India to T rinidad as indentured laborers. 3 A lthough immigrants came from various parts of India, the majority were from the northern India province of Bihar, and mostly spoke Bhojpuri, a language closely related to, and often iden tified as, H indi (Mohan & Zador 1986, Mohan 1990). T he Indian immi grant population consisted of a large majority of H indus and a minority of Muslims. Laborers who had finished their indentureship could return to India, sign up for another contract, or remain as time-expired immigrants with land. Well into the twentieth century, many of these immigrants and their descendant population resident in T rinidad remained relatively iso -1. This paper was originally presented at the Biennial Conference of the Society for C aribbean Linguistics/ C uraao C reole C onference, A ugust 2004. F or their patience, hos pitality, and devotion to sharing their language and culture, I am indebted to E na Baksh, Yasmin Baksh, Julius Boos, Uma Dwivedi, Kumar Mahabir, Sita Mahabir, Ken and R osalind Parmesad, Kamla R amlakhan, and the S eemungal family of E l D orado Village (especially Lakshmi, R ampersad, R ajan, Vinue, Jeewan, A sha, and Vidya). 2. N ot included in this count are several items that are only possibly of Indian origin. 3. For the purposes of this paper, description and analysis apply to T rinidad, but not T obago, which has historically had few Indian immigrants or their descendants.
LISE WINER 8 lated on rural agricultural estates. 4 A ccess to E nglish via formal schooling was quite delayed for most rural T rinidadians, and most of the early schools targeting the Indian population were run by Protestant missionaries (see Morton 1916, Ladoo 1974). It is fair to say that increased access to E nglish education was a prime medium of the replacement not only of Bhojpuri, but Patois and S panish as well; mass schooling led to the use of fewer lan guages in the community, and there was little government encouragement for the H indu or Muslim schools that did give or might have given attention to H indi and Urdu. 5 F or many in the A froC reole population of T rinidad, the Indian commu nity remained separate and mysterious; but by 1995, when the first IndoT rinidadian was elected prime minister, the community constituted half of the population and was front and center in discussions of national culture and unity. S ome of these discussions have become quite acrimonious, over questions like the amount of Indian music to be played on local radio sta tions. 6 T he history and cultural practices of this segment of the population have received considerable scholarly attention. 7 Little work has been done on ethnolects in T rinidad (Boodoosingh 1976, S ingh 1988, Winer 1992a), although most T rinidadians would claim to be able 4. T here was no prohibition on Indian immigrants speaking their native languages once arrived in T rinidad. H owever, as Pastner (1967) has shown, especially in rural areas, the language most likely to have been learned by a speaker of another language of India was not the most common Indian language, Bhojpuri, or even E nglish/ C reole, but F rench C reole, known locally as Patois Patois was the lingua franca of T rinidad, particularly in rural areas, well into the twentieth century, as shown by the necessity for interpreters: T he G overnor and the defendant ... came and spoke to the coolies; Mr. White was also there and spoke F rench [ sic ] to the C oolies ( Trinidad Spectator May 28, 1848, p. 2). 5. Kirk Meighoo, Hindi and Innocent Creole Culture, Trinidad and Tobago Express A pril 23, 2004. 6. Both requests for (more) Indian music on local stations and plans to establish Indian stations, are sometimes seen by non-Indians as racialism (Ravi Ji, T o Caarray in the G ayelle, Trinidad Guardian A pril 7, 2004). 7. For example, Niehoff & Niehoff 1960; Klass 1961 and 1991; Alladin 1970; Meosa 1971; Jha 1973, 1976a, 1976b; Ali 1975; Brereton 1979; Mohammed 1982; Ramnath 1982; La G uerre 1985; Mahabir 1985, 1991, 1992a; C larke 1986; D abydeen & S amaroo 1987; Birbalsingh 1988; De Verteuil 1989; Vertovec 1992; Khan 1994; Kanhai 1999; Seesaran 2002. Studies that focus on socioeconomic and political aspects of the IndoT rinidadian community are not addressed here. There have been several studies, some comparative, on the Indian community of G uyana, which is similar in many ways to that of T rinidad (including C ross 1972, D abydeen & S amaroo 1987). It would also be worth while to make direct comparisons of the Indian communities in F iji and Mauritius, where there is apparently a greater rate of survival of Indian languages (Meighoo, Trinidad and Tobago Express A pril 23, 2004).
INDIC LEXICON IN THE ENG L ISH/ CREO L E OF TRINIDAD 9 to distinguish certain ethnic and/or social class types of twang or accent, identified by names such as Indian, and convent [school]. S ome poten tial ethnolects, such as C reole or A froC reole, seem instead to be more dependent on other factors, such as residence or religious affiliation. 8 F or example, the extensive Yoruba lexicon associated with the O risha religion is mostly used by A froC reoles, but by no means all or even most A froC reole T rinidadians outside this system are familiar with more than a few of these terms (Warner-Lewis 1991, 1996).METHODO L OGY OF CORPUS CO LL ECTIONT he words in this IndoT rinidadian lexical corpus have all been identified and collected within the framework of the ongoing preparation of the Dictionary of the English/Creole of Trinidad and Tobago T o be included in this work, an item had to fulfill a number of criteria, including that it not belong in form and/or usage to recognized standard N orth A merican or British E nglish (see Winer 1993:48-51). Several languages have contributed to the primar ily E nglish-derived lexicon of T rinidadian E nglish/ C reole ( TEC ), including Patois ( FC ), F rench ( F r), S panish ( S p), several A frican languages including Yoruba and T wi, and a handful of words from Chinese and Portuguese. In most cases, a particular word is used more frequently within the correspond ing historically ethnolinguistic group. H owever, to be considered part of the E nglish/ C reole language of T rinidad ( TEC ), a word must have been heard or seen, and judged as being used, within an otherwise entirely TEC sentence. T hus, words of Indian origin had to be acceptably used in an otherwise TEC sentence, that is, one called a mixed-up sentence, not only a (broken) Hindi one. All the words cited here were tested with at least two unrelated members of the IndoT rinidadian community, who had to agree that the item was used in this way. Words that were characterized as only being used by people who spoke Bhojpuri fluently were omitted from the list. T o date 1,844 such words have been gathered from oral and written sources, both 8. Because Indians have been predominantly rural and C reoles urban, it is not always possible to determine whether differences in language use are based on ethnicity or residence alone. H owever, there is a tendency for many urban or formally educated T rinidadians to assume that the linguistic differences between urban and rural are much greater or more consistent than they in fact often are. T his is part of a romanticized view in which country or bush areas constitute a kind of cultural museum or reposi tory, to be dipped into at will. If this dichotomy ever was true, it certainly is not now. With the increased reach of media, schools, and transportation, the rural areas are not as isolated as in the past; conversely, urban areas may be the locus of considerable tradition.
LISE WINER 10 historical and contemporary. Literary sources were especially useful for their rich contextualization and representation of oral speech. 9 PATH W AYS OF LEXICA L DERIVATIONThe determination of the relationship and status of Hindi and Bhojpuri is a complicated and underinformed one. Although a number of scholars have long stressed that the majority of immigrants to T rinidad spoke Bhojpuri, 10 not H indi, popularly the language has locally been known as H indi, or rather broken H indi or bad H indi. T he latter terms are partly due to the aware ness that the standard Hindi heard in Indian movies, or found in Hindi text books, and so forth, is different from that spoken locally by older people. More recently, there has developed in T rinidad an increasing reference to Bhojpuri rather than H indi by scholars and popular writers, but it is standard Hindi, not Bhojpuri, that is taught in T rinidad Hindu schools. The teaching of standard Hindi as a heritage language in T rinidad is thus similar to the teaching of the standard F rench of F rance or Quebec to speakers of A cadian French in Louisiana: the language taught in school is not the language of the grandparents. 11 Although Bhojpuri is still a common variety for locally composed lyrics of both traditional and modern-style songs, particularly the genre known as pichakaree 12 apart from knowledge of individual vocabulary items, songs and prayers, and modified native-like pronunciation (Mohan 9. For example, Lewis 1958, 1961, 1972; Khan 1961, 1988; Naipaul 1964, 1969a, 1969b; Selvon 1971, 1973, 1979, 1972, 1985; Ladoo 1972, 1974; Sawh 1982; Persaud 1990, 1993, and Maharaj, Trinidad and Tobago Express O ctober 14, 1990 and 1994. 10. For example, Jha 1973, Dukhedin-Lalla 1974, Bhatia 1982, Gambhir 1983, Mohan & Zador 1986, Mohan 1990. 11. A lthough H indi classes are available, Meighoo ( Trinidad and Tobago Express A pril 23, 2004) notes that even the hardcore recalcitrant Indian activists, who energetically promote Indian culture and Indian persons in T rinidad and T obago society, and are unapologetic and moreover, proud about their Indianness, know almost no Hindi, and despite usually initial hot enthusiasm, abandon any effort to learn it ... One very prominent Indian advocate ... told me that he didnt think he needed to know Hindi to understand Indian culture. This has led Ravi Ji (Bhaash-puri or Hindi in T rinidad? Trinidad Guardian April 21, 2004), a prominent Indo-T rinidadian leader, to proclaim that Bhojpuri was not a taught but a caught language. Furthermore, Meighoo claims local parochialism in regard to unfamiliar culture of the Indian subcontinent, from names to food. It was, however, certainly irritating to many viewers, including non-IndoT rinidadians, that many of the actors in the 2002 film version of V.S. Naipauls The Mystic Masseur (1964) spoke with continental, not local, Indo accents. 12. See Peter Ray Blood, Pichakaree T ime Again, Trinidad Guardian March 28, 2002 and Indira Maharaj, Love and Sex in Pichakaree, Trinidad and Tobago Express March 22, 2002.
INDIC LEXICON IN THE ENG L ISH/ CREO L E OF TRINIDAD 11 & Zador 1986, Mohan 1990), it would be fair to say that even within the IndoT rinidadian community, Bhojpuri has followed a typical path in which unsupported family transmission of an immigrant language does not extend to the third generation ( G arcia 2003) (the same is true of local F rench, Patois, S panish, C hinese, and A rabic). Hindering the effort for full recognition of Bhojpuri as a language is the fact that despite recent designation as official by the government of India, there are as yet no available dictionaries or grammar books of Bhojpuri. T hus, non-Bhojpuri speakers must rely on speakers of H indi and/or Bhojpuri, as well as dictionaries of standard H indi ( F orbes 1861, Mc G regor 1993). In many cases, it is only possible to assume that a word is Indian in origin, and ascertain that it is not H indi, leading to an interim assumption that the word derives from Bhojpuri, subject to future investigation. The Indian lexical component in TEC is overwhelmingly derived from Bhojpuri, Hindi, or both, but also includes Sanskrit and Urdu (Mohan & Zador 1986, Mahabir & Mahabir 1990, Mohan 1990). Sanskrit is particu larly represented in words pertaining to H indu religion; Urdu, which is basi cally Hindi with considerable influence from Arabic and Farsi (Persian), is mostly found in words pertaining to Islam. Modern Hindi is also a con temporary contributor or language reinforcement, through standard H indi media such as Bollywood movies. T here are very few instances of words derived from Indian languages other than Bhojpuri, Urdu, H indi, or S anskrit in this corpus, although con siderable numbers of immigrants came from areas where Bengali, Punjabi, and T amil (known locally as Madrassi) were dominant. T wo of the rare exceptions are from kite-flying/fighting: mange /manzh/ coating applied to kite string, which comes from the Bengali and Punjabi manja ground glass and rice-flour paste applied to kite string, and Punjabi rasam a similar coat ing. Interestingly, TEC -speakers, including IndoT rinidadians, unanimously identify the origin of the former word as FC mange < F r manger to eat. In the case of karapul small shiny flavorful leaves of Murraya koenigi , the immediate source is probably H indi/Bhojpuri, but it may also have entered the language via A nglo-Indian corropali although the ultimate source is prob ably T amil karuvepila and/or Malayalam koduka puli A different route has been followed by TEC cowitch (or cow-itch ) any of several plants, usually vines, bearing pods with highly irritant hairs, esp. Mucuna sp. T he original etymon is H kewnch Mucuna prurita a vine with stinging hairs on the pods, that has come into E nglish as cowage It appears that in TEC this was reana lyzed as cow (from association with pastures) + itch (from the symptom), but it is not clear whether this came directly from H indi or via E nglish. Bhojpuri was the leveling language or koin in the early Indian popu lation of T rinidad, and may have been learned, at least to some extent, by non-Bhojpuri speakers who found themselves in small minorities among
LISE WINER 12 large numbers of Bhojpuri speakers on estates. 13 T his is apparently true even for the Madrassis, known for their Kali-Mai puja and fire-pass rituals; 14 thus far, the terminology found in these rituals is hardly different from that used in other H indu environments. 15 In some cases, words that clearly come from India have also been inte grated (if not assimilated) into standard English. For example, the word sari a womans draped garment, is widely known and used throughout the Indian diaspora and indeed is well known to many non-Indian English speakers. H owever, few if any of the original immigrant women to T rinidad would have worn a sari, but rather the full skirts and long tops characteristic of northern India. Not all users of Indian words were Indian; words such as sari were already familiar to Anglo-Indians (Lewis 1991). People who had served in the Anglo-Indian Raj spoke Hindustani (the official version of Hindi) or other Indian languages, and acted as immigration brokers, court interpret ers, and advisors to planters and politicians on Indian indenture and immi gration. 16 Estate owners and overseers would likely understand, and even 13. R avi Ji, Trinidad Guardian A pril 21, 2004. 14. Keith E Mc N eal, Miracle Mother, Caribbean Beat 54, March/ A pril, 2002. 15. Similarly, there was a leveling of religious observance within Hinduism: The localiz ed traditions of minor deities and their associated rites were soon diminished in T rinidad in favour of a standardized, Sanatan Dharm style of Hinduism. A smaller panthe o n of S anskritic gods became dominant ... A Vaishnavite bhakti orientation became pervasive (Vertovec 1992:111). Ravi Ji further proposes that there was a conscious intervention of Hindi through the Indian High Commission in the wake of Indias Independence when T rinidad was a British colony. For one thing, India was interested in establishing Hindi as an official language of India. The Indian High Commission in colonial T&T may well have been influenced by the Arya Samaj which, at that time, saw Bhojpuri as a carrier of folk culture and traditions which was in conflict [with] their reformative mission ( R avi Ji, Trinidad Guardian A pril 21, 2004). 16. O ne Major James F agan, who had served in the Bengal Military E stablishment, had a roving commission to attend to Indian affairs in all parts of the island. H e was partly a magistrate and partly a welfare officer (Wood 1968:114). In regard to evidence taken in C alcutta of returning coolies it was reported in The Trinidadian of A pril 8, 1852, p. 2: Major F agan understood our language. If a line was drawn on the ground and milk thrown on one side and water on the other, he could tell which was which, and the other gentlemen could not tell so much in our matters. T his could affect court cases, some put aside when there was no one who could understand the C oolie ( The Trinidadian S eptember 20, 1852). Lady S tanmore, in her diary entry for N ovember 4, 1866 notes: We have on board the C hief Justice of T rinidad, Wm Knox, an oldish man, certainly cultivated. H e is a good Italian scholar, and has taught himself H indee [ sic ] since coolie cases became numerous and important (p. 45). Justice Knox also spoke fluent F rench and S panish (no mention has been found of his learning any A frican language).
INDIC LEXICON IN THE ENG L ISH/ CREO L E OF TRINIDAD 13 use, Indian words such as sirdar overseer, dhobi laundry-man, and puja Hindu prayer service, in reference to Indian life and labor on the estate. S ome TEC words, such as lota brass pot and locho loafer, libertine, idler from the Anglo-Indian form loocher < Hindi luchchaa can also be found in identical or similar forms in that epitome of colonial language reference, Hobson-Jobson (Yule & Burnell 1985). English, linguistically classified as Indo-European, owes some funda mental debts to Sanskrit. It would, however, be perverse to insist that more than a handful of words have come directly to standard E nglish or TEC from Sanskrit. Words such as E jungle < Hindi and other northern Indian lan guages jangal wild forest were certainly well known in E nglish long before Indian immigration to the C aribbean. A nother type of wandering lexical his tory is demonstrated by TEC pelau a spicy dish of browned meat, with rice, and sometimes peas. In the T rinidad context, the Hindi pilau from Persian pulaao S anskrit pulaaka may have come through or been influenced by the F r and FC plao The Urdu element in Indo-TEC lexicon is, as noted above, associated with cultural aspects of the Muslim community, including religious obser vance, music, and food. T he original source for most of these words is either A rabic or F arsi (Persian). E xamples include imam < A rabic imaam Muslim religious leader, qasida style of classical A rabian poetry < A rabic qasiida and sarabet a sweetened beverage from Persian sharbat 17 Misassigned Derivations A number of words that have occasionally or consistently been locally con sidered to be of Indian derivation are in fact from other languages. T he two dozen typical examples here are taken from Noor Kumar and Sita Mahabir Mahabir (1990). T he relevance of two phonological principles can be derived from this list. First, all these items conform to Bhojpuri rules of phonotac tics, sometimes involving changes such as the /f/ of coffee to an aspirated /p h /. Second, there is an emphasis on the spellings a rather than u as in mas must and aa as in kaat cut, representing both a lengthening and a raising of the vowel, considered typical of traditional Indian-T rinidadian speech. 18 17. T o get to Fr sorbet and E sherbet the word went through Western Europe and the referent became frozen. 18. T his process is sometimes referred to as Bhojpurisation of E nglish, e.g. hospital to aspataal California to Kalpainyaa (Ravi Ji, Trinidad Guardian April 21, 2004). The pronunciation of /ar/ as /a:/, as in star, is of course characteristic of British and some A merican E nglish varieties.
LISE WINER 14 TEC Word Considered Hindi Gloss Known or Probable Source bookane cooked by smoke FC / F r boucan < C arib boukan stick framework, grill chuk pierce, jab A frican, compare F ulani jukka poke, T songa jukula dig up dodo sleep FC / F r gaabilaa chicken hawk S p gavilan FC gabilan hallaa noise, uproar dial. E holler yell, shout jaanjee a fresh-water fish [eel] FC zangee < F r anguille eel jitnee vehicle E jitney kaapaa penny E copper kaaphee coffee E coffee (also Indianized forms from E and possibly A rabic) kaat cut, bite E cut kaataa headpad to cushion load A frican, prob. T wi kat cover, protect laaboo mud FC < F r la boue mud malaad invalid; sick FC < F r malade sick, ill mas must E must meele brought together FC F r mle mixed; mixture paap soft E pap soft food paapaa father F r/ E papa pemwaa breadfruit FC pembwa < F r pain de bois pooiyaa cutlass FC < F r poignard short sword or dagger reeba river E river T able 1. TEC Words Misassigned as IndianD erived
INDIC LEXICON IN THE ENG L ISH/ CREO L E OF TRINIDAD 15 TEC Word Considered Hindi Gloss Known or Probable Source saabon soap F r savon saapaat footwear made of wood and rubber S p sapat, sapatero swaipaa machete, brushing cutlass E swiper tamaakhoo tobacco < E tobacco S p tabaco < A mer Indo-TEC Lexicon by Sociocultural Domain T his section describes the majority of IndoTEC lexicon, totaling 1,844 words, categorizing items by their semantic-cultural domain. Major categories include religious practice, particularly H indu weddings and Muslim H osay ( N iehoff & N iehoff 1960, Korom 2003); music (Myers 1998); dance and stickfighting ( A lladin 1970); food preparation (Indar & R amesar 1988, Mahabir 1992b); agriculture; kinship (Jha 1973); health (Mahabir 2000); and description of appearance and behavior. In the table, n indicates the number of words put into this category, and % indicates the percentage of the total Indo-lexical corpus that this constitutes. T able 2. E xamples of IndianD erived Lexicon by S ociocultural D omains Actions n = 148 (8%) bhoray eat by picking up food with your fingers or a piece of roti bichkaawe grimace, distort or twist the face binay select, especially pick and choose good grains Agriculture, Animal Husbandry, Fishing n = 83 (4.5%) bacha, bachi newly born male/female calf bhopa rattoon, new shoots from an old plant bhusi rice husk; grain seed covering biya 1. seed, grain; 2. a bundle, usually of rice seedlings biyari nursery for young plants bandhnaa a grass band used to tie bundles, usually of fodder Body (36) and Health (35) n = 72 (3.9%) barowni eyebrow bilni sty, painful swelling on the eyelid chaura peeling skin on babys body lulha having only one able hand, the other crippled or twisted
LISE WINER 16 Clothing and Jewelry n = 79 (4.3%) baju wide light bracelet worn between elbow and shoulder bandal tight metal bracelet worn on the forearm bari small hoop-shaped earrings jora-jama/jama-jora mans long jacket with long sleeves and a high neck orhni womans scarf worn around the neck or over the head Cooking (n = 52) and Food (n = 168), n = 218 (11.8%) baelay roll with a baelna baelna small thin wooden rolling pin baigan choka a dish made from roasted baigan (eggplant, aubergine), onions, and seasoning barfi fudge-like sweet made from milk and sugar chulha earthen fireplace chunkay throw seasoning into hot oil; throw hot oil with seasonings into dal Descriptions, Evaluations n = 116 (6.3%) abhimaan false pride aisa-taisa commonplace; ordinary bandar badly behaved or stupid person chachundar a person who wanders about; a loose, undisciplined woman chatak of food, savory, tasty; of music, good, lively, having feeling Environment n = 43 (2.3%) bhowchar light rain blowing inside the house bihjli lightning; thunderbolt chowk earthen bank on the side of a drain gunda clay, used in making pottery maati dirt, earth, soil Fauna n = 49 (2.7%) bhaisa water buffalo bhowraa wasps or bees that make a loud humming noise bhungaa fruit fly Flora n = 105 (5.7%) balahar Artocarpus lacucha a tree fruit banga two species of spiny native palm trees baigan eggplant, aubergine bhaaji a number of plants with dark green leaves edible when cooked bhankaraile a vine yielding a small bitter fruit bodi a very long edible pod bean Folk Beliefs and Practices n = 32 (1.7%) bhut evil spirit; demon churail ghost of a woman who died in childbirth dih traditional H indu guardian spirit that protects a particular place gadabera time of sunset, considered an unlucky time to sleep, eat, sweep
INDIC LEXICON IN THE ENG L ISH/ CREO L E OF TRINIDAD 17 Games n = 10 (0.5%) guli danta game played by flicking a thin stick across a circle gudia doll, dolly kabadi vigorous chasing game between two teams Hinduism n = 228 (12.4%) brahman a high-caste H indu, often a teacher or pandit baraha/barahi a celebration held twelve days after a birth bedi earthen altar bhabhoot ashes from incense bhagwat a week-long reading and exposition of the Bhagavata Purana bhandara ritual held 23-30 days after a death bheik ritual thread worn by devout men brath period of fasting because of a religious vow or holy time Hindu Weddings n = 60 (3.3%) bahoray ritual of applying vermillion powder to the bride barat/bariat procession of the groom and his party to the house of the bride bhatwan farewell night during a H indu wedding ceremony bhawar ghoome ritual of groom and bride walking around the sacred fire bidai clothes and jewelry given to the bride by the grooms brother bida karaway a ritual when the groom and bride are sent away Household n = 96 (5.2%) bartan dishes, cups, and other cooking and eating items chadar bedcover, blanket chimta/simta fire tongs dhenki grinding mill consisting of two circular flat stones Islam n = 58 (3.1%) BakraE id holy day commemorating the sacrifice of Isaac banaithi fire-stick dance performed by men on H osay night gumaj small crown placed on top of the H osay tadjah halal done according to Muslim ritual, usually of slaughter of animals for meat Kinship n = 102 (5.5%) baba father; term of respect for pandit or any older man bahin sister, especially younger sister bahnoi older sisters husband barka bahin older sister bhowji older brothers wife Miscellaneous n = 199 (10.8%) baal counting word usually of grain used for seed bahana mischief; trouble; excuse; pretense; lie barakat good fortune or prosperity, especially gained through hard work bipat trouble; difficulty; pain; worries burhaa/burhiya old, elderly man/woman
LISE WINER 18 Actions : This category includes a number of terms pertaining to actions in cooking and eating, as well as to actions typical of household and agricul tural pursuits, and common actions such as giggling, stealing, pushing, cud dling, grumbling, and splashing. T hese include mostly verbs, but also some words that are used as nouns in phrases implying an action, dular loving attention; cuddling; affectionate snuggling, or lathi stick, as in He gi the man plenty lathi He hit the man a lot with a stick. Some word sets retain morphological differences, such as bhun-bhun a grumble, buzz, mutter and bhunbhunai to grumble continuously; in some cases such morphology is not consistently applied, or crosses word class boundaries. Note, for exam ple, that barbar chatter, (talk) nonsense is both noun and verb, whereas barbaraawe make unnecessary noise is always a verb. 19 Agriculture, Animal Husbandry, Fishing : Almost all indentured immi grants were assigned to agricultural work on estates, mostly in sugarcane but also cocoa. Indians are still the segment of the population most involved in sugarcane and vegetable agriculture. The greatest single subdomain in this area pertains to rice cultivation and processing, which has always been car ried out locally exclusively by IndoT rinidadians (see D iptee 1992). 20 Body and Health : Words for body parts follow the general pattern, also found in the A frican-derived vocabulary, of keeping heritage language terms for more private terms, such as jhaat, jahant pubic hair. S everal words refer to deformities or disabilities. A lthough health terms are relatively few, most are used widely and frequently, including words for tingling or numb sensations, respiratory problems, fevers, and growths. A specifically Indian set of medi cal diagnoses center on diseases considered caused by evil intent or demons, and by the strain or dislocation of veins, which are treated with specific traditional remedies and treatments (see Winer 1992b, Mahabir 2000). Clothing and Jewelery : Quite a few of the terms collected for jewelery and the clothing worn by the original immigrants are now archaic or obsolete Music, Drama, Song, and Stick-fighting n = 146 (8%) bayan the left-hand, lower-tone drum in a tabla set bansuri horizontal bamboo flute bhajan type of H indu hymn or holy song biraha/birha improvised H indu religious song 19. The /e/ ending on verbs has not yet been properly analyzed, but appears to derive from the Bhojpuri /e/ verb ending for completive aspect, almost certainly because of or reinforced by the typical Patois /e/ ending for verbs. 20. S ee also Lena C handool, Indian C ulture and A griculture, Indian Arrival Day Magazine May-June, 2003 and A nuradha Joshi, Indian Women Pioneered R ice C ultivation, Indian Arrival Day Magazine May-June 2003.
INDIC LEXICON IN THE ENG L ISH/ CREO L E OF TRINIDAD 19 in common usage, as are the items themselves (see Raghoo 1984, Ramesar 1999/2000). S ome survive, however, mostly found in connection with dance and wedding costumes. Descriptions and Evaluations : A few of the words in this category are neutral or positive in meaning or connotation: chitkabar spotted, speck led, chikan clean, in good order, gyaani learned, erudite man, songha mellow, pleasant smoky flavor or aroma. H owever, over three quarters of these words are negative, referring to physical descriptions ( roghi sicklylooking, malich filthy, dirty, jhabraa of hair, dirty, tangled), emotions ( abhiman false pride, jabarjast jealous), behavior ( puhar slack, clum sy) and character ( pakhandi fussy over trivial things, langera irrespon sible, unreliable, dhansirya woman who wastes money). In most cases, there are E nglish words potentially available as synonyms; however, the precision of some items, as well as the emotional strength carried by these words either by heritage use or by switching for emphasis, has supported their survival. 21 Environment : T his rather broad category includes names for types of ter rain, daldal marshy or swampy place, weather, bhowchar light rain blow ing inside the house, natural phenomena, garahan eclipse, and features of the land whether natural or human-made, gullaa hole dug in the ground. Fauna : These designations refer mainly to domestic animals, as well as animals frequently found around houses, such as wasps. Wild animals, from mosquitoes to owls, are referred to in largely generic fashion, or with several species grouped together. This stands in contrast to the extremely rich TEC vocabulary for fauna, a considerable amount of which comes from Amerindian languages (via Spanish) and from Patois (see Winer & Aguilar 1991, Winer & Boos 1991). By the time the Indian immigrants arrived, of course, the local fauna had already been named, and the names were acces sible. However, the bhaisa water buffalo, was imported and used exten sively by the Indian population. Flora : Indian names for local flora are almost entirely practical, that is, for plants that are edible, used in rituals, or used for tying crabs, making roofs or other purposes. In some cases, Indian names were made for local plants that resembled Indian ones, for example bhandhania like, similar to + coriander 21. A similar phenomenon occurs in the retention (recognition and/or use) of Yiddish items in the E nglish of non-Yiddish speaking Jews with Yiddish as a family or commu nity heritage language. F or example, the highest praise is to call someone a mensch lit. man, but with connotations of integrity and other positive characteristics. C onversely, negative epithets running the gamut from ill-fortuned to malicious shlemiel, shlema zel, shmendrik, shmuck are considered more precise and forceful than any E nglish (near-)equivalents, and are kept in use by their unfortunately frequent applicability.
LISE WINER 20 for Eryngium foetidum A gain, the immigrant population arrived to find hun dreds of names for local flora well established in E nglish and Patois. 22 Folk Beliefs and Practices : With the exception of jharay ritual removal of an evil spirit or blight, and perhaps jadoo harmful magic, this vocabu lary is mostly known only within the Indo-T rinidadian community. Much of this is becoming archaic, but beliefs about lucky and unlucky times, and protection against harm are quite widespread. Food and Cooking : Many of the words in this category pertain to cook ing equipment such as baelna rolling pin, dal gotni swizzle stick, tawa gridd l e, made locally in traditional shapes and styles, and processes that are specific to the preparation of Indian dishes, particularly of milk products and spices. The food items, from roti flat soft bread wrapped around a filling to sweets and religious offerings, are typical of the cuisine of northern India, more of the lower class than the upper. 23 Games : T raditional games such as kabadi and lohar are played within the Indian community, though less commonly than in the past. 24 T wo areas that warrant further investigation are kite-flying/fighting and marble games, both of which are extremely popular in northern India. While the Indian word patang kite, kite-flying would be used only among some IndoT rinidadians, the Indian-derived mange and rasam, for coatings used to help cut opponents kite-strings, are so widespread amongst kite players that, as noted above, most consider the first term to be Patois (i.e. from manger to eat). T here is a possibility that some marble-game terminology, such as lerki a type of ring game, is Indian in origin. Hinduism : T his category includes a large number of words relating to H indu belief and practice, specifically to ritual procedures, objects and items, and observances for particular circumstances such as birth and death, as well as various types of prayer services (religious song types are included in the Music category below). S ome of these are associated only with one specific holiday, such as the pichkare (syringe) used during Phagwa some are com monly found at a wide variety of activities and items, such as bhabhoot/vib hute ashes from incense. A lthough the caste system broke down fairly rap idly, and the full panoply of H indu observance was not maintained, activities such as pujas and communal festival observances were important and fairly public components of social-cultural and linguistic maintenance. H indu wed dings, which traditionally are very complex and take considerable time, were 22. See Lackhan ca. 1983-86, Mahabir 1991, and Francis Morean, The Stately Banga Palm, The Ground Itch Bush, and Plumbing the Shado-beni Mystery, all in the Trinidad and Tobago Review N ovember 1990, A pril 1992 and June 1992, respectively. 23. S ee Pariag 1975; R aghoo 1984; Indar & R amesar 1988; Mahabir 1992b. 24. N oor Kumar Mahabir, D isappearing A ncient Indian G ames of the C aribbean, Trinidad and Tobago Newsday A ugust 15, 2003.
INDIC LEXICON IN THE ENG L ISH/ CREO L E OF TRINIDAD 21 also crucial in this regard, although such rites were not recognized as legal by the colonial government until 1946 (Muslim marriages were recognized in 1936). 25 Hindu Weddings : T erms relating to H indu weddings are of course a subset of the previous category, but were separated because of their relatively large number. T his is because of the structure of a traditional wedding, which involves a number of small ceremonies over a period of years or months; even when compressed in time, there are still numerous ceremonies which involve various combinations of people from both the brides and grooms families (see S ankar 1972). Household : A few words in this category have common E nglish equiva lents and are (no doubt consequently) less commonly used. Most items here have a specific and traditional form and/or use: gobar mixture of cow-dung and mud used to plaster walls, dibbi small wooden box used for holding sindur , soo(p) long triangular fan, khatia bed made of woven cord on a wooden frame. Islam : About half of these words are for everyday or general references to Muslim practice: juma (namaz) Friday prayer. The rest pertain mostly to rituals related to Hosay (see Korom 2003) and rites de passage such as weddings and funerals. Kinship : Indian kinship systems generally distinguish not only mater nal and paternal lines of descent, but place considerable emphasis on age relationships, thus aja/aji paternal grandfather/grandmother and nana/nani maternal grandfather/grandmother; bahin younger sister and barka bahin or didi elder sister. A lthough many families do not use the full range of such kinship terms, several are used so widely that they are familiar to (though not necessarily understood by) non-Indians, and some have become extended or generalized in meaning, e.g., mamu mothers brother; any uncle. Music, Drama, Song, and Stick-fighting : A few traditional Indian dancedramas are regularly performed in T rinidad today, especially the Ram-Lila Both popular and classical music are thriving. T his include both consumption 25. See Ali 1975; Khan 1994; Vertovec 1992; and Ashram B. Maharaj, Sookdaya and the Ram Goat, Divali Supplement, Trinidad and Tobago Express October 14, 1990. Although there is no evidence that private use of African languages was prohibited, the heterogeneity of the enslaved Africans languages encouraged their learning of English/ C reole or Patois. O fficial suppression of A frican-derived religious observances certainly contributed to language death. As Warner-Lewis (1996) points out for T rinidad, most of the residual use of Yoruba, spoken by a number of later immigrant laborers well into the twentieth century, centers on names and ritual. Although it is premature to compare the A frican and Indian linguistic retentions due to differences in their histories and lack of adequate linguistic data, it is clear that religion played an important, perhaps paramount, role in the retention of heritage language terms for both groups.
LISE WINER 22 of music (and language) from imported Bollywood movies, as well as local playing and production. Locally composed songs in a variety of styles, in H indi, Bhojpuri, E nglish/ C reole, or a mixture, feature in numerous satsangs concerts and competitions. The growth in popularity of pichkaree songs has been remarkable and very aggressive in mixing E nglish and Bhojpuri. 26 The more public appearance of chutney a fast and often suggestive style of music and dancing, based on traditional Indian womens dances, has drawn both criticism and applause from the wider Indian community. 27 T raditional music is an essential part of many Indian ceremonies, such as weddings, and the tassa drums of Muslim Hosay (known more widely as Muharrum ) are renowned, though fewer in number than in the past. Ghatka Indian stickfighting, is now rare, but still associated with some festivals. 28 MAINSTREA M ING OF INDIAN-DERIVED LEXICONThis section touches on the question of how and to what degree particular words have been mainstreamed within the non-Indian population of T rinidad. T he corpus may be roughly divided into the following categories: 1. A few words, as mentioned above, have been integrated or assimilated, sometimes with extended meanings, into more general English, such as brahmin guru mantra. 2. S ome words are used locally, and have become familiar to and often used by non-Indo-T rinidadians. Probably most common are food items such as anchar fruit preserve, baigan eggplant, aubergine, melongen, and roti 29 T hese are most likely to be recognized and used as they commonly occur both orally and in print, especially on menus and in newspaper articles and recipes, and the consumption of Indian snack and street foods crosses ethnic boundaries. Some referents are noticeably present 26. Blood, Trinidad Guardian March 28, 2002; Maharaj, Trinidad and Tobago Express March 22, 2002; Ravi Ji, What is Boiling in the Abeer, Trinidad Guardian March 22, 2002 and the C hilds World through Pichakaree, Trinidad Guardian F eburary 22, 2003. An example from Maharajs Vivaah Sanakaar Wedding: Me body it so hot like a chulha/Meh heart kankaying like a churria,/Me an meh dulaha is seel and lorha,/ Me an meh dulaha is roti and tawa(My body is hot like an oven, My heart is rattling like brace lets, Me and my bridegroom are mortar and pestle, Me and my bridegroom are bread and griddle) (Maharaj 2002:11). 27. R awwida BakshS oodeen, Power, G ender and C hutney, Trinidad and Tobago Review F ebruary 7, 1991. 28. See Annamunthodo 1971; Balkissoon 1975; Myers 1998; Sankeralli 1998; Maharaj 2002; and Ramlakhan, The Story of the Dhantaal, Express March 27
INDIC LEXICON IN THE ENG L ISH/ CREO L E OF TRINIDAD 23 in the environment, such as mandirs Hindu temples and are also com monly spoken and written about. Individual personality and history are important factors, as neighborliness, friendships, workplace relations, and kinship connections are doubtless primary factors that contribute to any persons familiarity with words. 3. By far the largest category of these words consists of those known primarily or exclusively within the Indo-T rinidadian community. This includes some words for referents found as commonly and visibly as those in the previous category but that have not found their way into more general usage. F or example, jhandi flags indicating the performance of a puja are a common sight almost everywhere in front of ordinary houses, not just mandirs Most non-Indo-T rinidadians would know that these indicate an Indian ( H indu) household, and that these are connected with religion, but very rarely are they familiar with the Bhojpuri term. 30 This category also includes words such as yagna and satsang which would frequently be seen in print (advertisements, notic e s, newspapers), or heard on radio announcements, but which would not be more familiar than, for example, some kind of Indian thing. Very few of the terms outside of verbal abuse are private on purpose, but many would be used only in the domestic sphere. 31 30. A ccording to some linguists familiar with G uyana (including Jeannette A llsopp, per sonal communication, A ugust 2004), the knowledge of such terms within the non-Indian population is much greater. Of great interest then would be to determine the extent to which the Indic lexicon in the English/Creoles of T rinidad and Guyana overlap, and the relative degrees of mainstreaming. 31. In most cases, the lack of familiarity with parts of this lexicon on the part of non-Indians is understandable as a simple lack of participation in cultural practices, particularl y religious ones. (For example, though non-Hindus are often guests at Hindu weddings, they would not normally participate in rituals, prayers, cooking, and similar activities.) However, there is also to some extent a factor of intracommunal exclusiv ity, in which certain culturally specific knowledge (including vocabulary) is hidden or not shared with outsiders. In some cases this is because the cultural component may be illegal, considered to be private, or considered liable to be misunderstood, looked down upon, or interfered with by outside authorities, such as Kali Mai pujas (see Mc N eal 2000 and Caribbean Beat 54, March/ A pril 2002), or the belief in rakshas (a baby who is really a demon), and jharaying a type of ritual healing. T wo examples illustrate both the issue of privacy and that of both suspicion and appreciation of an outsider knowing about such areas. A white T rinidadian man now living in the United States reported that an Indo-T rinidadian he met there asked him for help obtaining materials he needed for a puja prayer meetin g: bamboo poles for jhandis (prayer flags), dried mango wood, and doob (Bermuda) grass A few days afterward, the friend reported that some question had arisen as to the suitability of his presence at the puja but that he had actually been defended as being the only person there who could have arranged to get the proper mate
LISE WINER 24 4. A small but salient category is that of words suddenly made very well known by a well publicized incident, quote, or song. For example, the word nimakaram ungrateful, lit. to one who has fed you/given you salt; traitor, back-biter was well known within the IndoT rinidadian commu nity: T he expression nimakharam is a terrible insult in A mity. It is usually translated as one who eats another mans food, then does him evil, but ungrateful one is a simpler and perhaps more pointed definition (Klass 1961). S ubsequent citations found during the 1970s-80s are all from IndoT rinidadians, and all have explanations attached, such as [ H e] is nothing but an unvarnished, neemakharam, an ingrate of the highest order fight ing desperately for his own survival. 32 F ollowing a well-publicized politi cal fracas in 1992, however, this became a common term of reference, as in S he said she had turned it down out of loyalty to Panday and had been branded neemakharam (ungrateful). 33 A part from actual surveys of recognition and/or use, one way to track famil iarity is by the extent to which words are glossed in newspaper articles (excluding special sections or supplements for Indian holidays). T aking, for example, the word mandir references from the 1980s all tend to have some kind of support or gloss, such as mandir (Hindu temple). By the early 1990s, references were also made without such glosses, as in The wooden pole popped at its base ... and fell on a mandir, bringing down house lines, ripping apart a section of a covered area and steps of a nearby house. 34 rials. In another instance, he reported: I was at the roti shop and quite a few T rinidadian Indians with whom I had a passing acquaintance were sitting eating and drinking in the booths. I noticed that they perked up when I asked for marcha [Hindi for hot pepper] with my sada roti [plain bread], and in having a casual conversation with one group, I overheard a young lady complain about feeling somewhat unwell. I took the chance and commented that maybe she had sprained her nara [abdomen, groin], and needed it rubbed [massaged]. S omeone in the group, seeing the humour, commented back, N ah, she need to get ah good jharay [ritual healing]. I replied, D en ah go hah to get a C hamar Pundit [low-caste priest] to jharay she. T here was a moment of shocked silence and some serious, hard stares (the word chamar is not used or taken lightly by people of Hindu descent, and its combination with pundit seemed shocking to the crowd), so I followed up with Doh watch me so hard, nah, an doh think dat ah making joke, I know Nanan Dhany from Barrackpore, he is a true Chamar Pundit, is I was de one dat did get tota [parrot] feather, cobra skin an peacock tail feather so he could a do de jharay correc! Gales of laughter followed as the people realized that I, a white T rinidadian, actually had knowledge of this and could tell it in the T rinidadian Indian patois! (Julius Boos, personal communication, A ugust 2004). 32. Bomb A ugust 22, 1986, p. 3. 33. Express N ovember 27, 1994, p. 5. 34. Bomb January 1, 1993, p. 23.
INDIC LEXICON IN THE ENG L ISH/ CREO L E OF TRINIDAD 25 By 1995, when the first IndoT rinidadian prime minister was elected, main stream newspaper articles were likely to include considerable Indian-derived lexicon, especially in reference to H indu rituals, with no explanations:H er mission ... was to collect pure water for charhaawaying at various man dirs ... S he left C haguanas at 7 am that morning on teerath aiming to have darshan at nine selected mandirs across the nation ... T hey offered pooja, havan, aartee, flowers, prasad and seedhaas at all mandirs ... We arrived at Vishnu Mandir where all the moortis were dressed in clothes. T he devotees gave us lots of fresh flowers for our teerath ... E xchange Mandir was the last stop on the teerath. We arrived there at sandhya time, 6 pm. It is a very beautiful, quaint dirt mandir. 35 \DISCUSSION Preliminary analysis indicates that a majority of the words in this corpus can be considered as retentions to name items, practices, beliefs, and beliefs that are found in the original language/culture, but not in the host language community. The overwhelming majority of words in the corpus pertain to the terminologies of religion, cuisine, and household; this pattern of domain dispersion is typical of residual bilingualism ( F ishman 1989:235). Some words are commonly used; some are not, though when they are used they are meaningful and precise. Some are uncommonly used but very important in a particular context. Furthermore, many of these words are known very unevenly throughout the Indo-T rinidadian population, by gender, age, and work experience. It should also be remembered that many Indo-T rinidadians would recognize and understand words in context that they would not be able to produce or define otherwise. T he final section examined ways in which some words have been main streamed within the non-Indian population of T rinidad, including those fre quently mentioned and generally understood, and those made suddenly well known by a salient usage. A n increasing use of Indian vocabulary in news paper articles probably reflects the increasing awareness of the cultural and political importance of the IndoT rinidadian community on a national level. F uture lines of research might well explore the Indian source language(s) of some lexical items in the corpus. Comparison of the entire corpus and domain dispersal could be made with similar contexts, such as Indian com munities in Guyana and Fiji. An area of comparison that could be explored within TEC is that of the domains of the various contributing languages ( A merindian, E uropean, A frican, and A sian), as well as closer work on pat terns of usage and familiarity (such as surveys of frequency, social factors, contexts) both within and outside the Indo-T rinidadian community, and an examination of policies and strategies of partial language maintenance. 35. Trinidad Guardian N ovember 1995, p. 11.
LISE WINER 26 REFERENCESALI, NAZIDA, 1975. Indian Funerals and Allied Rituals in T rinidad. Unpubl. paper, University of the West Indies, S t. A ugustine, T rinidad. ALL ADIN M.P., 1970. A Village in Trinidad Maraval, T rinidad: n.p. ANNA M UNTHODO W. (ed.), 1971. Trinidad and Tobago Phagwa (Holi) Festival: Phagwa (Holi) Celebrations and Chowtal Singing Competitions in Trinidad San Fernando, T rinidad: Unique S ervices. BALKISSOON, KAMLA, . Some Indian Social and Religious Customs in T rinidad. Unpubl. paper, University of the West Indies, S t. A ugustine, T rinidad. BHATIA, TEJ K ., 1982. T rinidad Hindi: Three Generations of a T ransplanted Variety. Studies in the Linguistic Sciences 11:135-50. BIRBALSINGH, FRANK (ed.), 1988. Jahaji Bhai: An Anthology of Indo-Caribbean Literature T oronto: TSAR Press. BOODOOSINGH, JENNYLYNEE, 1976. A spects of E ast Indian Vocabulary in the Language of T rinidad. Unpubl. paper, University of the West Indies, S t. A ugustine, T rinidad. BRERETON, BRIDGET 1979. Race Relations in Colonial Trinidad 1870-1900 C ambridge: C ambridge University Press. CL ARKE, CO L IN G ., 1986. East Indians in a West Indian Town: San Fernando, Trinidad, 1930-70 London: A llen and Unwin. CROSS, MALCOLM 1972. East Indians of Guyana and Trinidad London: Minority R ights G roup. DABYDEEN, DAVID & BRINSLEY SAMAROO (eds.), 1987. India in the Caribbean London: H ansib. DE VERTEUI L, ANTHONY 1989. Eight East Indian Immigrants: Gokool, Soodeen, Sookoo, Capildeo, Beccani, Ruknaddeen, Valiama, Bunsee. Port of S pain: Paria. DIPTEE, JUDY, 1992. Women of the Cane. In Kumar Mahabir (ed.), East Indian Women of Trinidad and Tobago: An Annotated Bibliography with Photographs and Ephemera S an Juan, T rinidad: C hakra, pp. 243-47. DUKHEDIN-LA LL A, PATRICIA, 1974. A C reole T richotomy: T he C ase of H indi in T rinidad Creole with Reference to Standardization. Unpubl. paper, University of the West Indies, S t. A ugustine, T rinidad. FISH M AN, JOSHUA 1989. Language and Ethnicity in Minority Sociolinguistic Perspective C levedon, U.K.: Multilingual Matters. GAMBHIR, SURENDRA K ., 1983. Diglossia in Dying Languages: A Case Study of G uyanese Bhojpuri and S tandard H indi. Anthropological Linguistics 25:28 38.
INDIC LEXICON IN THE ENG L ISH/ CREO L E OF TRINIDAD 27 GARCIA, M.E ., 2003. Recent Research on Language Maintenance. Annual Review of Applied Linguistics 23:22-43. INDAR, PO LL Y B. & DOROTHY B. RA M ESAR (eds.), 1988. Naparima Girls High School, Diamond Jubilee 1912-1987, Recipe Book. San Fernando, T rinidad: Naparima Girls H igh S chool. JHA, JAGDISH CHANDRA, 1973. Indian Heritage in T rinidad, West Indies. Caribbean Quarterly 19(2):28 50. 1976a. T he H indu S acraments ( R ites de passage) in T rinidad and T obago. Caribbean Quarterly 22:40-52. , 1976b. The Hindu Festival of Divali in the Caribbean. Caribbean Quarterly 22:5361. KANHAI, ROSANNE (ed.), 1999. Matikor: The Politics of Identity for Indo-Caribbean Women. St. Augustine, T rinidad: School of Continuing Studies, University of the West Indies. KHAN, AL ISHA 1994. Juthaa in T rinidad: F ood, Pollution, and H ierarchy in a C aribbean D iaspora C ommunity. American Ethnologist 21:245-69. KHAN, IS M ITH 1961. The Jumbie Bird T oronto: G eorge J. Mc C leod. [ O rig. 1961.] , 1988. Uncle Rajos Shoes. In Frank Birbalsingh (ed.), Jahaji Bhai: An Anthology of Indo-Caribbean Literature T oronto: TSAR Press, pp. 57-71. KL ASS, MORTON 1961. East Indians in Trinidad: A Study of Cultural Persistence N ew York: C olumbia University Press. , 1991. Singing with Sai Baba: The Politics of Revitalization in Trinidad Boulder CO : Westview Press. KOROM, FRANK J., 2003. Hosay Trinidad: Muharram Performances in an IndoCaribbean Diaspora Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. LACKHAN, RABINDRANATH [1983-86]. Plants of Religious Significance to the Hindu Population of Trinidad and Tobago C alifornia, T rinidad: C alifornia H indu T emple. LADOO, HARO L D SONNY 1972. No Pain Like This Body T oronto: A nansi Press. , 1974. Yesterdays T oronto: A nansi Press. LA GUERRE, JOHN (ed.), 1985. Calcutta to Caroni: The East Indians of Trinidad St. Augustine, T rinidad: University of the West Indies, Extra Mural Studies Unit. [Orig. 1974.] LE W IS [ KIRTON], ENID 1972. Voices of Earth G asparillo, T rinidad: R illoprint. LEWIS, IVOR 1991. Sahibs, Nabobs and Boxwallahs: A Dictionary of the Words of Anglo-India O xford: O xford University Press.
LISE WINER 28 MAHABIR, NOOR KUMAR 1985. The Still Cry: Personal Accounts of East Indians in Trinidad and Tobago During Indentureship (1845-1917) T acarigua, T rinidad: Calaloux Publications. , 1991. Medicinal and Edible Plants Used by East Indians of Trinidad and Tobago E l D orado, T rinidad: C hakra. , 1992a. East Indian Women of Trinidad and Tobago: An Annotated Bibliography with Photographs and Ephemera S an Juan, T rinidad: C hakra. , 1992b. Caribbean East Indian Recipes S an Juan, T rinidad: C hakra. , 2000. Female Folk Healers in T rinidad. Unpubl. paper, Conference on Asian Migrations to the A mericas, University of the West Indies, S t. A ugustine, T rinidad. & SITA MAHA B IR 1990. A Dictionary of Common Trinidad Hindi 2nd ed. E l D orado, T rinidad: C hakra. , 1994. Kahana Village: A Collection of Stories Couva, T rinidad: Indian Review Press. , 1994. Which One to Play. Indian Arrival Day 1994: Towards 150 Years Freeport, T rinidad: Indian A rrival D ay A ssociation of T rinidad and T obago, pp. 26-27. MAHARAJ, ASHRA M B., 1994. Kahana Village: A Collection of Stories. C ouva, T rinidad: Indian R eview Press. MCGREGOR, R S ., 1993. The Oxford Hindi-English Dictionary O xford: O xford Univer sity Press. MCNEA L, KEITH E ., 2000. T he Many F aces of Mother Kali: C aribbean H induism and the Moral Politics of Diaspora Ritual Performance in T rinidad. Unpubl. paper, Conference on Asian Migrations to the Americas, University of the West Indies, St. Augustine, T rinidad. MEOSA, ELIANE, 1971. The Family, East Indian Courtship and Marriage Customs in T rinidad. Unpubl. paper, University of the West Indies, S t. A ugustine, T rinidad. MOHAMMED, SHAMOON 1982. Mastana Bahar and Indian Culture in Trinidad and Tobago S an Juan, T rinidad: Mastana Bahar T hesis Publication C ommittee. MOHAN, PEGGY, 1990. T he R ise and F all of T rinidad Bhojpuri. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 85:21-30. & PAU L ZADOR, 1986. D iscontinuity in a Life C ycle: T he D eath of T rinidad Bhojpuri. Language 62:291-319. MORTON, SARAH E ., 1916. John Morton of Trinidad T oronto: Westminster. MYERS, HE L EN 1998 Music of Hindu Trinidad: Songs from the India Diaspora C hicago: University of C hicago Press. NAIPAUL, V .S ., 1964. The Mystic Masseur. Harmondsworth, U.K.: Penguin. [Orig. 1957.]
INDIC LEXICON IN THE ENG L ISH/ CREO L E OF TRINIDAD 29 , 1969a. The Suffrage of Elvira. H armondsworth, U.K.: Penguin. [ O rig. 1958.] , 1969b. A House for Mr. Biswas H armondsworth, U.K.: Penguin. [ O rig. 1961.] NIEHOFF, ARTHUR & JUANITA NIEHOFF 1960. East Indians in the West Indies Milwaukee WI: Milwaukee Public Museum. PARIAG, PETER, 1975. The Eating Habits of the Lower Class East Indian in T rinidad. Unpubl. paper, University of the West Indies, S t. A ugustine. PASTNER, CARROLL MCCLURE 1967. A Sociolinguistic Study of a Rural Trinidad Community N ew York: R esearch Institute for the S tudy of Man. PERSAUD, LAKSH M I 1990. Butterfly in the Wind Leeds, U.K.: Peepal T ree Press. , 1993. Sastra Leeds, U.K.: Peepal T ree Press. RAGHOO, LA L, 1984. R etention and A daptation of D ress, O rnament and F ood of Indian C ulture in T rinidad. Unpubl. paper, University of the West Indies, S t. A ugustine. RA M ESAR, MARIANNE SOARES, 1999/2000. T he S ignificance of C hanging D ress S tyles among IndoT rinidadians (1845-1945). Journal of Caribbean Studies 14:117-30. RAMLAKHAN, RAJNIE, 1990. East Indian Street Theatre in T rinidad and T obago. Offerings 6:18-40. RA M NATH, HARRY 1982. India Came West Marabella, T rinidad: R amnath. SANKERA LL I, BURTON, 1998. Indian Presence in C arnival. TDR 42(3):203-12. SA W H, RUTH 1982. Rotiless Ramgoolie T rinidad: T rinprint. SEESARAN, E.B. ROSABELLE 2002. From Caste to Class: The Social Mobility of the Indo-Trinidadian Community 1870-1917 T rinidad: R osaac. SEL VON, SAMUEL 1979. Turn Again, Tiger London: Heinemann Educational Books [ O rig. 1958.] 1971. A Brighter Sun London: Longman C aribbean [ O rig. 1952.] , 1972. Those Who Eat the Cascadura London: D avis-Poynter. 1973. Ways of Sunlight London: Longman C aribbean [ O rig. 1957.] , 1985. The Plains of Caroni T oronto: Williams-Wallace. SINGH, ISHTLA, 1988. A Linguistic Overview of the Speech of the Indo-T rinidadian. Unpubl. paper, University of the West Indies, S t. A ugustine, T rinidad. VERTOVEC, STEVEN 1992. Hindu Trinidad: Religion, Ethnicity and Socio-Economic Change London: Macmillan E ducation. WARNER-LEWIS, MAUREEN 1991. Guineas Other Suns: The African Dynamic in Trinidad Culture D over M A : Majority Press.
LISE WINER 30 , 1996. Trinidad Yoruba: From Mother Tongue to Memory T uscaloosa: University of A labama Press. WINER, LISE, 1992a. Ethnic Lexis in an English Creole Dictionary. Dictionaries 13:6574. , 1992b. Health and Medical T erminology in T rinidad and T obago. General Practitioners Association Trinidad and Tobago Medical Journal 16:32-39. , 1993. Varieties of English around the World, Vol. 6: Trinidad and Tobago. A msterdam: John Benjamins. & EDITH LIL Y AGUILAR, 1991. Spanish Influence in the Lexicon of T rinidadian E nglish C reole. New West Indian Guide 65:153-91. & HANS E.A. BOOS, 1991. Agouti to Zandoli: Fauna Lexicon in the Dictionary of Trinbagonian Living World S pecial issue, pp. 25-28. WOOD, DONA L D 1968. Trinidad in Transition: The Years after Slavery London: Institute of R ace R elations & O xford University Press. YU L E, HENRY & A C BURNE LL 1985. Hobson-Jobson: A Glossary of Colloquial AngloIndian Words and Phrases London: R outledge & Kegan Paul. [ O rig. 1886.] LISE WINERF aculty of E ducation Mc G ill University 3700 Mc T avish Montreal, Quebec C anada H 3 A 1Y2
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005):31-54 LAURENCE BROWNEXP E RIM E NTS IN I ND E NTUR E : BAR B ADOS AND TH E SE GM E NTATION OF M IGRANT LA B OR IN TH E CARI BBE AN 1863-1865 I n the summer of 1863, over two thousand Barbadians traveled to the sugar plantations of S t. Croix and A ntigua under three-year contracts of inden ture. 1 Larger movements of migrant labor from Barbados flowed across the Caribbean during the nineteenth century. H owever, the migrants of 1863 were unique because their contracts mirrored those used to import A sian and A frican immigrants. T his brief convergence between currents of regional migration and indentured immigration from outside the Caribbean is particularly significant as these two groups became increasingly segregated within the British West I ndian sugar industry during the late 1860s ( R odney 1981:31-59). Caribbean historiography has rarely examined the changing relationship between these two flows of migrant labor, yet the emergence and rapid termination of pro jects for indentured Barbadian labor reveals much about the debates, condi tions, and tensions within the island colonies that shaped the construction of indentured immigration during the middle of the nineteenth century. 2 The re-emergence of indentureship in the postemancipation Caribbean was marked by considerable experimentation with both the terms and sources of migration between the 1830s and 1860s. In the first decade after the abolition of slavery, there was a proliferation of private and state-spon sored projec t s for immigrant labor which drew migrants from Europe, N orth America, Asia, and Africa (Laurence 1971). During this period, inden tured immigrants were outnumbered by migrant workers from the Eastern 1. This paper has been considerably improved by the comments of Richard Allen and Barry H igman, as well as by discussions at the 34 th A nnual Conference of the A ssociation of Caribbean H istorians in N assau. I am also very grateful to D aryl Josiah and his family for their assistance in Barbados and D enmark. 2. R oberts 1955; Johnson 1973; R odney 1977; M arshall 1984.
LAURENCE BROWN 32 Caribbean who were recruited, without long-term contracts, by the planters of T rinidad and British Guiana (Richardson 1980). However, the balance between these two currents of labor migration was reversed after the eco nomic crisis of 1846 caused by the British repeal of protective tariffs on West Indian sugar. As planters cut the wage-rates that had drawn regional migrants, colonial governments in the southern Caribbean became increas ingly committed to long-term contract migration, and particularly to the indentureship of Africans seized by the British repression of the Atlantic slave trade. During the 1850s, India replaced Africa as the dominant source of indentured immigrants and the terms of service were lengthened and standardized, culminati ng with the peak of indentured immigration into the British West Indies in the early 1860s (Laurence 1965; Look Lai 1993:5261; N orthrup 1995:21, 159-60). U nderpinning the multitude of projects for migrant labor during the midnineteenth century was the belief that population density was the central motor for plantation production. This nexus between population, land, and labor supply had been repeatedly articulated during the demographic debates of the early 1800s as population decrease became a symbol for abolition ists of the bankruptcy of West Indian slavery and as the expansion of the British empire in the Pacific and Asia fueled new theories about the nature of colonial settlement (Curtin 1955:134-35; Higman 1982). After emanci pation in 1834, colonial officials and planter elites across the British West I ndies sought to physically concentrate island populations within the planta tion economy through legislation against internal or external migration, and through state-supported schemes for migrant labor. Population density on the islands was therefore far from simply a geophysical fact, but emerged from the changing conflicts between planter interests, colonial authorities, and workers (Bolland 1981:614). T he fusion of colonial debates over population and migration was starkly articulated in 1863 when Barbados was wracked by labor unrest and food shortages. Mass emigration from the island was seen as both a temporary safety valve to alleviate social discontent and as a destablizing threat to plan tation production. The speedy measures by Barbadian authorities to close off labor migration after the summer crisis, reveals the extent to which per ceptions of overpopulation emerged from competing economic and political interests rather than demographic realities. F ollowing the separate streams of Barbadian migrants across the Caribbean during this period highlights how colonial governments transposed indenture contracts from one immigration project to another. Yet, if indentureship threatened to become a common framework for migrant labor during the early 1860s, such experiments were rapidly blocked by intercolonial rivalries over labor supply. These tensions between the sugar economies of the British West Indies were reinforced by differences in environment, technology, and capital which ultimately
EXPERIMENTS IN INDENTURE 33 produced increasing economic specialization and ethnic differentiation of migrant labor in the region. MA L THUS OR MIGRATION: THE PO L ITICS OF POPU L ATION IN BAR B ADOS The twenty-fifth anniversary of the abolition of slavery in the British West Indies was commemorated in London with a public meeting on August 1, 1859 addressed by the G overnor of Barbados, F rancis H incks. I n celebrating emancipation as an economic success in the Caribbean, Hincks (1859:1-2, 11) explicitly sought to support contemporary abolitionist campaigning in North America. He believed that the fall in West Indian sugar production which had followed emancipation was to be blamed on poor policy by colo nial elites, rather than the moral character of the former slaves. H is speech in London drew on the position Hincks had expressed a few months earlier in Barbados to the visiting New York Times journalist, William S ewell,Governor Hincks is of the opinion that there is a sufficiency of labor in many of the colonies, and that the resort to indiscriminate Coolie immigra tion is unnecessary and uncalled for. H e thinks that this, next to slavery, is the most expensive kind of labor; one which it is impolitic to encourage when Creole labor can be procured by the inducements of higher wages and a more liberal tenure. ( S ewell 1862:56-57)Describing to his London audience how plantation production in Barbados had become more efficient with emancipation, Hincks (1859:10-11, 28) rejected criticisms that this was solely due to the uniquely high population density of the island and argued that similar economic growth was possible for the rest of the region. T hroughout his London speech, H incks drew on the survey of postemanci p a ti o n labor conditions written by S ewell during the journalists travels across the British West Indies in 1859. On his visit to Barbados, Sewell (1862:13, 17, 27-28) praised the island as proving the profitability of free labor over slave production. During the 1820s, Barbados averaged sugar exports of 11,946 tons per year, while by the 1850s these had almost tripled to 31,261 tons per year as planters developed more intensive methods of cultivation. 3 Sewell (1862:31) argued that this dramatic increase in the islands sugar exports was primarily due to the islands high population density which guar anteed an abundant supply of labor, and he wrote that to this cause more, 3. F rom the mid-1840s Barbadian planters invested heavily in guano to fertilize their sugar crops. H owever, such agricultural improvements depended on cheap labor for con stant replanting ( S ewell 1862:15, 26, 62-63; D eerr 1949:193-94; S heridan 1989:72-77).
LAURENCE BROWN 34 perhaps, than to any other, she owes her present wonderful prosperi t y. With over 150,000 inhabitants, and an estimated 95 percent of her 166 square mile surface area devoted to agriculture, Barbados appeared almost a per fect garden, the model colonial export economy (Sewell 1862:33-34). Yet S ewell (1862:58) also recognized that such economic gains came at a social cost, as he described the islands overstocked and imprisoned population, compelled to work on such terms as the planters may dictate. The intensification of sugar production in postemancipation Barbados that so impressed Sewell in 1859 rested on exceedingly fragile founda tions. Arguing that agricultural labor in Barbados had always been abun dant, Sewell (1862:33) wrote that partly from an aversion of the negro to leave his home, partly from his fear, still easily excited, of being sold into slavery, no material emigration from the island has ever taken place. In fact, during the decade that immediately followed emancipation, there had been a considerable exodus from the island to T rinidad and British Guiana, despite the enactment by the Barbados Assembly of legislation restricting emigration in 1839 and 1840. While these laws were framed in the language of protecting workers from exploitative immigration agents and of saving dependents from abandonment, their unstated intention was to deliberately perpetuate the islands high population density to support its plantation econ omy (Roberts 1955:247-49; Richardson 1980:398-400). Postemancipation productivity on the plantations of Barbados had been based on reducing labor costs (through linking wages and rent for residence) and expanding the cultivation of sugarcane on estate land at the expense of provision grounds (Levy 1980:126-27). This potentially volatile combination of limited labor mobility, low wages, and the reliance on imported foodstuffs exploded in the summer of 1863 when a prolonged and extreme drought dramatically pushed plantation laborers to the brink of subsistence. In the words of the governor of Barbados, James Walker, 1863 was a year of hardship and distress to all classes. 4 However, the crisis fell most heavily on the laboring poor, due to the long and severe drought which not only brought about a scarcity of native provisions but rendered agricultural employment from the state of the soil both difficult and valueless. 5 By July 1863, faced with a reduced crop, estates had cut back their labor forces to only employing workers for a few days a week or long enough to cover the rents on estate tenantries. 6 As one local journalist noted, in many parts of the country the people are starving: and where a labouring man is compelled to receive nine cents a day and pay his rent out of it, and support his family, 4. M inutes of the H ouse of A ssembly (henceforth MHA ), O ctober 6, 1863, Black R ock, Barbados N ational A rchives, p. 62. 5. Walker to N ewcastle, O ctober 21, 1863, C O 28/197, N ational A rchives, London. 6. The Times (Bridgetown) July 10, 1863, p. 3.
EXPERIMENTS IN INDENTURE 35 it can easily be judged what their condition is. 7 Faced with such demands, the existing system of parish-based poor relief broke down as the vestries of St. Philip and St. Lucy were forced to seek emergency funds from the House of Assembly. 8 The American Civil War had already created a short age of imported foodstuffs, while the only local provisions that survived the drought were potatoes, whose scarcity across the island meant that the small amount of produce available was largely reserved for the estates. 9 A s wages and provision supplies shrank dramatically over the summer, so food prices, unemployment, and social unrest soared. T hese extreme conditions of privation and semi-starvation fueled a mas sive upsurge in petty crime, especially in raids on the provision grounds of the estates. T here were also open confrontations between the militia, police, and crowds at the beginning of July 1863 when a shipwreck on the coastline of S t. P hillip seemed to offer a providential source of food, and at the end of the same month police opened fire on a crowd gathered during a cane fire at the M ount H illaby Estate. 10 But it was the night raids on plantation provision grounds and storehouses by groups of laborers that generated the greatest feeling of alarm and insecurity amongst the authorities. 11 As Governor Walker recognized, labor protest against cuts in wages, employment and the redefinition of task work became mixed with crimes of starvation. 12 In response, groups of special constables were drafted to protect certain estates and organized into night patrols of the central parishes on the island. R epression dramatically doubled the islands prison population to 650 by the end of summer, the vast majority of whom had been sentenced for raids on plantations provision grounds. 13 On July 28, 1863 the Governors Council and House of Assembly unanimously voted a special bill which specified the punishment of flogging for adult males if they were part of a group of three or more that sought to enter upon any cultivated land for the purpose of committing any deprivation or outrage. 14 7. The Times July 24, 1863, p. 3; Sewell had earlier estimated that an average agricul tural wage in Barbados was 22 to 25c a day ( S ewell 1862:146). 8. MHA June 23, 1863, pp. 43-44; MHA July 28, 1863, pp. 53, 56. 9. The Times July 10, 1863, p. 3. 10. The Times July 7, 1863, p. 3; The Times July 10, 1863, p. 2. (Carter 1996; Beckles 2004:95-180). 11. Walker to N ewcastle, A ugust 9, 1863, C O 28/196. 12. Walker to Newcastle, July 25, 1863, CO 28/196; Walker to Newcastle, August 9, 1863, C O 28/196. 13. MHA, October 6, 1863, p. 62; Walker to Cardwell, October 31, 1864, CO 28/199; M undy to Cardwell, O ctober 18, 1865, C O 28/201. 14. Walker to N ewcastle, A ugust 9, 1863, C O 28/196.
LAURENCE BROWN 36 Amidst this summer of crisis, migration was seen by the authorities, the local press, and laborers of Barbados as an important means of relief. An editorial in The Times (Bridgetown) argued,That the majority of our labouring population are enduring great priva tion at the present time is a fact that few, we believe, will be found bold enough to deny; and having no prospect of improvement, but the contrary; in view of the rapidity with which they multiply, some means might be devised by which their condition might be improved, and the destitution which prevails among them diminished... We have more than once advo cated the emigration of a few thousands of the population the advantage thereby acruing to society and the people themselves would be incalcu lable, whilst the planting interest would not suffer in consequence. There are many people who cannot find employment, these may emigrate. 15 On the same page as the above statement, the journal noted the spontane ous migration by those who could afford passages to St. Vincent, T rinidad, and British Guiana. 16 Others without such resources sought an escape from the drought through enlistment in the West I ndian R egiment, which resulted in the local garrison being swamped by applicants. 17 However, such move ments were transformed by the end of that summer with the establishment of organized recruitment schemes that provided new opportunities for emigra tion to those without the means to cover the costs of sea passage. BAR B ADIAN INDENTURED IMMIGRATION TO ST. CROIX AND ANTIGUAI n the years immediately preceding the drought of 1863, Barbadian authori ties had actively sought to prevent the foreign recruitment of agricultural laborers. I n early S eptember 1860, an immigration agent for S t. Croix began advertising in rural districts across Barbados promising free passage and a signing-on bonus (bounty) of up to five dollars a head which quickly drew two hundred workers who sought to emigrate. 18 T here was enthusiasm despite rumors that migrants would be sold back into slavery, and in the face of con siderable official pressure which went as far as having police board immi grant ships, as well as a direct request from the Barbados government to the authorities in S t. Croix to suspend recruiting. G overnor H incks of Barbados opposed such emigration, citing concerns for the migrants interests, as the exploitative actions by recruiting agents would render them apprentices for 15. The Times July 17, 1863, p. 2. 16. The Times July 17, 1863, p. 2. 17. The Times July 10, 1863, p. 3; The Times July 24, 1863, p. 3. 18. H incks to N ewcastle, S eptember 8, 1860, C O 28/191.
EXPERIMENTS IN INDENTURE 37 life. 19 However, at the same time as Hincks so actively opposed the largescale migration of black laborers, he sought to encourage emigration from Barbados by poor whites due to fears about their economic and physical decline after emancipation (Watson 2000). F or the governor and the colonial government, migration was a means of relief for those sections of Barbadian society that fell outside the plantation economy, but it was not to be extended so as to directly challenge the labor relations within the sugar industry. T he resistance of the ruling elite of Barbados to the organized emigration of agricultural workers contrasted with the explicit commitment of imperial authorities to labor mobility ( R oberts 1955:248-49; M arshall 1984:6-10). A t the start of 1861, the Colonial Office in Britain accepted the organization of regional immigration to St. Croix, in the face of considerable opposition by Barbadian authorities. 20 By the time this decision reached Barbados, the recruiting agent for S t. Croix, Barbadian Charles Bryan, was no longer on the island, having been threatened with prosecution under the immigration laws of 1840. 21 I n late 1862, Bryan returned to the island and attempted to renew the recruitment of migrants, however, the new governor of Barbados, James Walker, reversed Londons policy by arguing that this migration scheme was based on a system of bounties which had been absolutely rejected by Britain in 1846. 22 Paralleling its failed attempts to recruit agricultural laborers from Barbados, the St. Croix government was also lobbying in Washington to obtain black migrant labor from A merica and in London for access to inden tured immigration from British India. 23 Slavery had been abolished in the Danish West Indies in 1848, however this had been followed by a twelveyear period of apprenticeship that had maintained workforces on the sugar estates until the early 1860s. F earing severe labor shortages once the islands population was no longer legally tied to the plantations, St. Croix authori ties received approval for indentured Indian immigration in early 1863 after extensive negotiations in Britain. Under indentures for five years, 321 19. H incks to N ewcastle, S eptember 6, 1860, C O 28/191. 20. Hincks to Newcastle, January 10, 1861, CO 28/192; Newcastle to Hincks, February 13, 1861, C O 28/192. 21. Barbadian authorities admitted that the Act of 1840 only provided a penalty for falsehoods by immigration agents, and therefore there was no legal penalty for them to enforce against Bryans actions which they had declared illegal ( H incks to N ewcastle, S eptember 8, 1860, C O 28/191). 22. Walker to N ewcastle, O ctober 24, 1862, C O 28/195. 23. Employment of Laborers of African Extraction in the Island of St. Croix: Correspondence between the State Department of the United States and the Charg daffaires of D enmark, Washington, 1862, S chomburg Center for R esearch in Black Culture, N ew York.
LAURENCE BROWN 38 migrants left India in late February 1863, just before the close of the offi cial recruiting season ( S ircar 1971:136-42). 24 T hese pre-existing projects for migrant labor resulted in a rapid response by S t. Croixs government to news of the summer crisis in Barbados. T he drought and disorder of 1863 forced Barbadian authorities to reverse their earlier opposition to emigration to S t. Croix, thought significantly the renewal of labor recruiting came not from S t. Croixs official agent, but from Barbadian J. H S hannon who began advertising for agricultural labor ers on his own initiative in mid-July 1863. S hannon informed potential migrants that he had chartered a schooner, the Gold Hunter to take them free of all expense for passage to said I sland [ S t Croix], there to make their own terms. 25 A fortnight later, Charles Bryan returned to Barbados and set up his own recruitment office in Bridgetown on the same block of P rince William H enry S treet as S hannon. R ather than simply providing free passage, Bryan restarted his earlier efforts in which migrants were paid bounties for agreeing to three-year contracts. 26 With an official system of contract immigration established by St. Croix, Shannon moved his efforts at the end of A ugust 1863 to recruiting workers for A ntigua on behalf of that colonys government. Like St. Croix, Antiguas swiftly constructed scheme for Barbadian emigration emerged from a series of earlier projects and negotiations over immigrant labor. I n 1834, A ntigua was unique in the British West I ndies for enacting immediate emancipation due to the confidence of its plantocracy in controlling the islands working population (Hall 1971:17-31). By the time of the 1846 crisis over sugar duties, such beliefs had been replaced by com plaints of labor shortage, which led A ntiguan planters to join the demands of other West I ndian colonies for indentured immigration ( H all 1971:45; D yde 2000:162). A decade later, the rising sugar prices of the late 1850s fueled intensifying calls for migrant labor ( D eerr 1950:531). Visiting Antigua in early 1860, William Sewell (1862:145, 154) had ambivalently reported that despite the islands population of over thirty-five thousand people, local authorities claimed that there was a labor shortage with only six thousand field laborers. H e wrote that,Small as Antigua is, there are parts of the island where labor is abundant and other parts where labor is scarce. T he planters are seeking to introduce coolies. They are in need, they say, of 2000 laborers; and it is to be pre sumed that they understand their own wants ( S ewell 1862:152). 24. In British India, the state-sanctioned recruitment season for migrant labor to the Caribbean was between S eptember and F ebruary ( T inker 1993:137). 25. The Times July 17, 1863, p. 2. 26. Birch to Walker, A ugust 15, 1864, C O 28/198.
EXPERIMENTS IN INDENTURE 39 While Sewell (1862:148, 156) had enthusiastically endorsed the results of indentured Indian immigration in T rinidad, he noted that in Antigua there had been little attempt to recruit workers from the local population, particu larly the fifteen thousand-strong residents of the islands free villages. A t the same time that S ewell was writing, acting A ntiguan governor, Edward Eyre, was enthusiastically endorsing overseas labor as necessary for continued sugar production and in the best interests of the colony. 27 Eyre had been a temporary replacement for Governor Ker Baillie H amilton, who upon his return to A ntigua found himself in opposition to the House of Assemblys strengthening commitment to immigration. Hamilton made his endorsement of indentured immigration from A frica and A sia con ditional on reforms for the islands Creole population, particularly on the local Assembly funding improved medical and municipal services. 28 While these reforms were reluctantly enacted by the assembly, Hamilton publicly declared in S eptember 18962 thatN otwithstanding the urgent sentiments expressed in the H ouse of A ssembly for the reception of I mmigrants, I am of the opinion that I mmigration to this I sland cannot be carried out to any large extent. T he I sland is subject to drought that of 1860 was remarkable for its long continuance and at such times the present population is superabundant and the lower orders are subject to great privation. T he improved eco nomic management of P lantations and the skillful application of labor with the employment of modern implements of husbandry are likely to do more for the Colony, already supplied with a sufficient population and where labor is cheap, that the costly experience of introducing for eign laborers who are not like l y to do more work or demand less wages than the native P easantry. 29 H amiltons opposition to indentured immigration, which was decisive in the Colonial O ffice rejecting the colonys demand for liberated A frican migrants, earned him the opprobrium of the local planters who argued in reply there may be a redundancy of population and yet a deficiency of labour. 30 In early 1862, the Antiguan legislature had passed an export tax to fund indentured immigration, which within eighteen months had raised eight-27. T o His Grace the Duke of Newcastle, KG, Her Majestys Principal Secretary of State for the Colonies. The Memorial of the House of Assembly of Antigua (hereafter T o the Duke of Newcastle), May 1863, Codrington Papers, E 31, Antigua National A rchives (hereafter ANA ), p. 1. 28. T o the D uke of N ewcastle, p. 3. 29. T o the Duke of Newcastle, p. 9; Hamilton also criticised the accommodation availab le on the estates as insufficient for native laborers and any potential indentured immigrants ( T o the D uke of N ewcastle, p. 10). 30. T o the D uke of N ewcastle, pp. 13-14.
LAURENCE BROWN 40 and-a-half thousand pounds. 31 Directly petitioning the Colonial Office for the importation of I ndian immigrants, A ntiguan planters were forced to post pone their recruitment of indentured immigrants at the end of 1862, owing to the insistence of authorities in Britain on legislative and financial provi sions in case drought in Antigua threatened migrant employment. 32 These delays in securing indentured immigration from Asia and Africa meant that Antiguan planters swiftly reacted to the crisis in Barbados during the sum mer of 1863, and that they approached that migration in the same way as immigrants from outside the region. In late July 1863, a three-member delegation from the legislature of Antigua visited Barbados seeking to recruit one to two thousand plantation laborers. 33 Heading the delegation was Executive Council member Charles Eldridge, who reported that the opinion is pretty generally expressed that the people [of Barbados] will not go down to enter into contracts; and many persons apparently favourable to us suggest that we should place a small vessel on the berth for Antigua, making a nominal charge for passage money and leaving them free to make their own engagements in Antigua ... This plan, we cannot adopt. 34 As a result, Antiguas immigration agent, J.H. Shannon, did not simply arrange passage for the migrants to negotiate their own employment as he had initially done for St. Croix, but rather advertised for workers and their families willing to contract themselves for three years in A ntigua. T o make such terms more attractive, migrants were offered a signingon bounty of twenty-five dollars, a house, provision grounds, medical care, and regular wages of twenty cents per day. 35 Merchants Ramsey, Elder and Co. guaranteed to potential emigrants a free transfer of remittances between their stores in A ntigua and Barbados. While the terms of the contract broadly mirrored those of indentured immigrants from Asia and Africa, the offer of individual houses and land plots in Antigua and St. Croix contrasted to 31. A third of the funds for immigration were to come from an export tax levied on sugar and rum, another third from contributions from the colonial government, and a third direct from the employers of the immigrants ( T o the D uke of N ewcastle, pp. 2-3, 20). 32. R odgers to G arraway, D ecember 29, 1862, Codrington P apers, E 31, ANA I t was not until the end of June 1863 that Lord N ewcastle fully endorsed indentured immigration to A ntigua ( N ewcastle to H ill, June 30, 1863, Leeward I sland D ispatches, 1863, ANA ). 33. Walker to Newcastle, August 9, 1863, copy July 21, 1863, Eldridge to Walker, CO 28/196; Walker to Newcastle, August 9, 1863, copy July 16, 1863, Hill to Walker, CO 28/196. 34. Antigua Times A ugust 1, 1863, p. 3. 35. The Times A ugust 28, 1863, p. 2; Walker to N ewcastle, A ugust 9, 1863, C O 28/196.
EXPERIMENTS IN INDENTURE 41 the barracks accommodation and ration systems which were developed for indentured labor in British G uiana, T rinidad, and Cuba. T he substantial sign ing-on bonus and the omission of any right to repatriation also differentiated the labor contracts offered to Barbadians from those of indentured Indian immigrants. Despite such differences, Antiguan planters described and saw Barbadian migrants as indentured laborers, even passing a law within a month of their arrival in Antigua to prevent the clandestine departure and removal of indentured immigrants. 36 G iven the social unrest of the summer, G overnor Walker of Barbados was far more sympathetic to the A ntiguan scheme than he had been to the earlier efforts of S t. Croix. Walker informed the visiting A ntiguan delegation that,I f any of the laborers are discontented with their position or complain of a scarcity of employment, or imagine that they will better their condition by leaving the Island, they are at perfect liberty to do so, and the Executive will be very far from interposing any difficulty in their way. On the contrary, if any of them decide to quit Barbados and seek their fortunes elsewhere, I should prefer to see them resort to a well established old British colony like Antigua with a soil and climate more congenial to them than can be the swampy lands of D emerara. 37 Yet despite such proclamations, the G overnors Council in Barbados del i be r a te l y withheld from officially sanctioning the immigration schemes by S t. Croix and A ntigua, even as both colonies openly recruited Barbadian labore r s. F ar from migration being actively used by the Barbados government as a means of immediate relief, its response to foreign recruiting efforts was far more hesitant, complex, and contradictory ( R oberts 1955:252; F letcher 1980). As the Legislative Assembly of Antigua debated the importation of Barbadian laborers, at least one of its members recognized the ambivalence of authorities in Barbados to such emigration. U pon hearing the report of its delegation to Barbados, T homas F oote, attorney for the P arham H ill planta tion, commented that,it would seem that the Planters of Barbados were indisposed to promote emigration from that Colony, and that judging from the remarks of Mr Walker, in an ordinary good season, the supposed superabundant popu lation was not more than sufficient for their own agricultural wants. R emembering that there once existed a law in this I sland to punish persons enticing people away from the Colony, it appears not the right thing to do to others what we did not like to be done to ourselves. 38 36. The Times S eptember 12, 1863, p. 3. 37. Walker to Newcastle, August 9, 1863, copy July 22, 1863, Walker to Eldridge, CO 28/196. 38. Antigua Times A ugust 1, 1863, p. 3.
LAURENCE BROWN 42 I n reply, F ootes colleagues in the A ssembly mocked his scruples, especially given his recent willingness to employ Chinese immigrants who had been shipwrecked on neighboring Barbuda in M ay 1863 ( D yde 2000:165). While the A ntiguan H ouse of A ssembly strongly endorsed Barbadian immigration, Foote had identified the population concerns which Barbados authorities would increasingly articulate from late 1863 as they attempted to stop the labor exodus from their island. During the second week of August 1863, the first two boats for Antigua left Barbados carrying seventy-two emigrants, of whom over 90 percent were male. 39 T heir arrival was welcomed by the Antigua Times which called for a greater emphasis on family migration, as the great want of this colo n y, certainly, is an accession of agricultural labor but we want at the same time, an enlarged permanent population, and in no way can this be better served than by encouraging the settlement of the Barbadians in families. 40 Such support for family migration was primarily motivated by the belief that it would limit labor mobility from the plantations and make migration more acceptable to authorities in Barbados who were concerned about the aban donment of dependent family members. 41 T he direct encouragement of fam ily migration to A ntigua had a significant impact on the composition of emi gration from Barbados (see T able 1). T able 1. Emigration from Barbados, S ummer 1863 42 Total Adult Male Adult Female Child S t. Croix 1,091 701 (64.3%) 304 (27.9%) 86 (7.9%) A ntigua 806 396 (49.1%) 196 (24.3%) 214 (26.6%) When the news of this massive migration during July and August 1863 reached England, Colonial Secretary Lord Newcastle commented that it is interesting to see emigration setting in from overpeopled Barbados to its under-peopled neighbours. 43 I n fact, as G overnor H amilton had previously made clear to N ewcastle, A ntigua was hardly under-peopled given its high population density of 337 people per square mile in 1861. 44 A lso forgotten by 39. Walker to N ewcastle, A ugust 9, 1863, C O 28/196. 40. Antigua Times A ugust 13, 1863, p. 2. 41. Antigua Times A ugust 28, 1863, p. 3; Antigua Times S eptember 26, 1863, p. 2. I n the wake of emancipation some A ntiguan planters had actively encouraged family reunifica tion as a means of securing a larger and more reliable workforce ( S mith 1988:29-32). 42. MHA O ctober 6, 1863, p. 62. 43. Walker to N ewcastle, A ugust 9, 1863, C O 28/196. 44. Barbados in 1861 claimed a population density of 920 people per square mile ( The Reports made for the Year 1861 to the Secretary of State having the Department of the Colonies. Part 1: West Indies and Mauritus London, 1863, pp. 30, 75).
EXPERIMENTS IN INDENTURE 43 Newcastle was the recurrent threat of drought in Antigua itself. At the very time when A ntiguan planters were importing laborers from drought-stricken Barbados, they were themselves in the midst of an alarming drought. 45 T he conditions faced by the migrants from Barbados were expressed in a letter by the newly arrived James Bovell, a laborer at D elaps estate, encour aging his wife to join him in A ntigua. D espite receiving half an acre of land to grow his own provisions, Bovell wrote that, our employer is to feed us for 6 months, as no food is on the estate nor in the ground. It is very dry, for months they have had no rain and every where is suffering for want of water. I shall be very glad to get you dear ... you must bring some corn flour, potatoes, limes, yams, peppers and some pepper sauce ... I am making out pretty well ... but it is hard, I only wish I had come down a few months ago. I like this place very much, and I hope we shall soon have rain to plant our ground ... 46 In Barbados, rain would have given workers like Bovell renewed work on the estates, but in A ntigua under contract of indenture which assured regular wages of two bits a day, he was more concerned that the change of weather would allow his own independent domestic cultivation.CO L ONIA L RIVA L RIES AND THE REDEFINITION OF MIGRANT LA B OR TO BRITISH GUIANA AND JAMAICAThe news of Barbadian emigration to St. Croix and Antigua rapidly spread across the Caribbean during A ugust 1863, encouraging other colonial govern ments to formulate their own immigration schemes. In British Guiana, reports of disorder and heavy emigration from Barbados were initially greet e d by the Royal Gazette with the editorial comment that here is a good opportunity for our neighbours of Suriname to procure immigrants. 47 As in Antigua, Barbadian events were rapidly incorporated into pre-existing debates and concerns, and the end of slavery in Suriname in July 1863 had generated considerable concern in British G uiana that the indentured immi grant workforce so expensively imported into the British colony would be poached by neighboring Dutch planters. 48 Fears in British Guiana of deser tion to Suriname resulted in the intensification of restrictions on movement between the two territories, the extension of indentureship terms for A frican immigrants, and the comprehensive consolidation of legislation on inden -45. Antigua Times A ugust 22, 1863, p. 3. 46. Antigua Times O ctober 3, 1863, p. 3. 47. Royal Gazette A ugust 8, 1863, p. 2. 48. Royal Gazette June 13, 1863, pp. 2-3.
LAURENCE BROWN 44 tured immigration. 49 While several hundred Barbadians were recruited for estates in Suriname during 1863, they objected to labor conditions in the colony and were eventually sent on to British G uiana. 50 A second debate which fundamentally shaped the efforts of authorities in British Guiana to develop new sources of migrant labor during the early 1860s were the concerns stimulated by declining immigration from M aderia, A frica, and China ( R odney 1977:4). A merican debates during the Civil War over contrabands, or the former slaves of the Confederate South, rean imated discussions in British Guiana on the possibility of settlements by A fricanA merican immigrants. H owever, like the privately sponsored efforts which followed emancipation, immigration schemes initially aimed at black A mericans were rapidly redirected to focus on West I ndian migrants ( M oore 1987:44). After heated public debate over migration from the United States in 1862, by late 1863 G uianas government had decided to seek five hundred laborers from Barbados while also attempting to establish recruiting agen cies in North America. 51 Importantly, under the Ordinance of October 28, 1863, labor recruitment from the British West I ndies and N orth A merica was to be funded by the colonys immigration fund in the same way as indentured immigration from A sia and A frica. T he governor of British G uiana promoting the 1863 ordinance was F rancis H incks, who had previously criticized indentured immigration while serving in Barbados. Reversing his early public position on immigration, Hincks wrote that this Ordinance simply extends to the United States and to the British Colonies the same provisions which are in force with regard to other classes of immigration except as to the length of indenture, which is lim ited to three years. 52 In seeking to extend British Guianas well-developed system of indentured immigration to recruitment from within the region, 49. These restrictions even extended to Indian immigrants whose contracts of indenture had expired and who sought to migrate to S uriname as free labor ( The Creole S eptember 23, 1863, p. 3). 50. R apport de la Commission envoye la Barbade pour tudier les moyens de diriger lmigration des travailleurs de cette colonie vers la M artinique (hereafter R apport de la Commission), FM / G en 148/1243, Centre des A rchives d O utreM er, A ix-enP rovence, F rance, p. 13; R oberts (1955:260) estimated that 1,200 Barbadians migrated to S uriname in the decade following 1863. 51. H incks to N ewcastle, N ovember 18, 1863, C O 111/347. 52. H incks to N ewcastle, N ovember 18, 1863, C O 111/347; A n O rdinance to P rovide for the Introduction of Immigrants from the British West Indies and from the Continent of North America, No 14 of 1863, The Official Gazette of British Guiana 1863, p. 15067. Both the United States and West Indies were also identified as sources of indentured immigrants in Suriname during the same year (Ordinance Concerning the Control and the I ntroduction of F ree Laborers into S uriname, M arch 19, 1863, N o. 71).
EXPERIMENTS IN INDENTURE 45 Hincks argued he was merely following the example of Antigua which had also contracted Barbadians under indentures of three years. A nticipating the enactment of the new ordinance, Hincks commissioned Barbadian Edward Walcott to act as immigration agent for the colony and to recruit workers on three-year contracts, giving preference to families who sought to migrate. 53 Significantly, this conception of state-controlled immigration from the Americas generated considerable opposition within British Guiana. Many merchants in the colony, whose interests lay in American trade and ship ping, argued that the new migration from N orth A merica should be recruited privately rather than by the state. T he mayor of Georgetown called a public meeting on the same day that the new immigration ordinance was promul gated ( O ctober 28, 1863) to organize a petition in favor of free immigration by black A mericans without the costs of immigration agents or constant state regulation. At the public meeting, the leading speaker for free immigration was F rederick Winter, who rejected the new ordinance as too cumbrous, and called instead for a privately organized system of bounty immigration with no indenture contracts. 54 Winter estimated that each migrant from Barbados would cost 25 dollars under an indenture of three years compared to only 5 dollars for passage as a free migrant. He argued that although you may find the Barbados immigrant ready enough to indenture, you will find him equally ready to shake off the indenture when he sees an opportunity ... we will not get three months work from him. 55 Winters scheme of private immigration was strongly opposed by Governor Hincks, who believed that indenture gave security of employment to both the employer and employee, as well as ensuring the state an important regulatory role. H incks also argued that Winters plans enjoyed little support amongst the plantocracy of British G uiana who remained committed to indenture as one of their most important sources of labor. 56 H owever, at the same time as these internal criticisms from within British Guiana, Hincks found his indentured scheme for West Indian migration 53. MHA N ovember 3, 1863, p 108. 54. The Creole O ctober 30, 1863, p. 2. 55. The Creole October 30, 1863, p. 3; Similar reasoning was given in T rinidad, where the Port of Spain Gazette argued that there was no need for state-sponsored migration from Barbados for two reasons: the immigrants helped over by private people are more likely to be of the right sort and to settle down to steady labour, than any that could be collecte d by Government agency ... we think that the immigration fund ought to be restricted to bringing in labourers, whose services can with moderate certainty be secured for estates work by indenture. Such indenture we maintain to be practically futile in the case of any labourers brought here from Barbados (extract reproduced in the Royal Gazette D ecember 8, 1863, p. 3). 56. H incks to N ewcastle, N ovember 18, 1863, C O 111/347.
LAURENCE BROWN 46 threatened by the changing policies of the Barbados government. In early October 1863, Governor Walker had publicly defended the emigration of two thousand Barbadians in less than two months. A ddressing the Barbados H ouse of A ssembly, Walker detailed the movements to S t. Croix and A ntigua, before arguing that for the present there is reason to believe that Emigration to both these places has ceased and the abstraction of labour which these lists represent with so dense a population as ours, is absolutely imperceptible. 57 T o the Colonial Office in London, Walker had earlier dismissed the depar ture of 1,400 laborers in August with the remark we can very well spare them, while even in late O ctober he wrote of a moderate Emigration to the neighbouring Islands. 58 In November 1863, Governor Walker reversed his position on the mass emigration which had begun only four months earlier. Fearing that British Guianas migration scheme would result in an exodus, the temporary tolerance of immigration agents and signing-on bonuses in Barbados was officially ended. A lso underpinning Walkers change of policy was the promise of a new record sugar crop in 1864, and the electric effect of the sudden rise in the value of sugar. 59 S ignificantly, Barbadian authorities at the end of 1863 framed their rejec tion of migration under contract with the language of free labor and social dislocation. In refusing to allow the immigration agent for British Guiana to commence recruiting, Governor Walker argued that there is now suffi cient employment for all hands, while the system of bounties upon which the whole operation rests is beginning to unsettle the minds of the peasantry and is disturbing their ordinary habits of industry. 60 Significantly, the bounties that were the focus for Walkers criticisms were in fact bonuses given to the workers themselves as an incentive to commit to long-term contracts, while the long-established principles to which he referred originated in the very different bounty systems paid by T rinidad and G uiana to ships captains and immigration agents as commission to recruit migrant laborers in the wake of emancipation ( R ichardson 1980:400-1). Equally, Walker claimed that the emigration of nearly three thousand laborers had resulted in a significant labor shortage in Barbados, despite its extreme population density. 61 The emigration of adult males had resulted in the desertion of wives and children, the abandonment of the elderly and 57. MHA O ctober 6, 1863, p. 62. 58. Walker to N ewcastle, S eptember 25, 1863, C O 28/197; Walker to N ewcastle, O ctober 21, 1863, C O 28/197. 59. Royal Gazette D ecember 8, 1863, p. 2; The Times A ugust 18, 1863, p. 2. 60. Walker to N ewcastle, N ovember 7, 1863, C O 28/197. 61. Walker argued that of an estimated 34,000 field laborers, 10,000 were women and only half of the remainder were able bodied, and of these far fewer were reliable workers (Walker to N ewcastle, N ovember 23, 1863, C O 28/197).
EXPERIMENTS IN INDENTURE 47 infirm. 62 Such rhetoric was undercut by Walkers own emigration statistics (see T able 1), which revealed that a substantial component of such move ments was migration by women and by families. F ueled by such arguments, a new act to amend the laws relating to emigration from Barbados was passed by the local Assembly at the start of 1864, explicitly targeting the appointment of Agents who are to act upon the bounty system. 63 British authorities insisted that the local act be amended to allow private parties to recruit labor, and to revoke the absolute ban on signing-on bonuses. 64 H owever, during 1864, the Colonial O ffice in London allowed the Barbados government to reject immigration schemes from British Guiana, Antigua, S t. Croix, and Jamaica. 65 Faced with British Guianas efforts to recruit Barbadian migrants, G overnor Walker had complained to his superiors in Britain that,I am quite sure that if this intercine system of enticing laborers from one British West India Colony to another were to be legalized, it would be the signal of such disquiet and ill blood in these parts. So far from being advantageous to the laborer, my opinion is that it would only tend to unhinge and destroy the little industrial character that belongs to him. 66 I n fact, the competition between colonies for migrant labor directly fueled a redefinition of regional immigration from indentured to free labor. Unable to recruit Barbadian laborers with a state-subsidized bounty for a threeyear contract of indenture, Governor Hincks changed his instructions to his immigration agent Walcott to offer free passage to British Guiana and the choice of employer for a six-month contract. 67 Just as Walker had adopted 62. Walker to Newcastle, November 7, 1863, CO 28/197; The following passage sig nificantly appeared in the Crime section of the 1863 Blue Book for Barbados: The tendency of the Emigration to which I have referred in a former part of this paper is of course to take away the able bodied laborer, and to leave upon our hands the old, the infirm, the sickly, and the young. And the numberless cases of distress and destitution which now present themselves are in 19 cases out of 20, or even in a larger proportion owing to desertion by parents and other natural protectors who have left the Island. The recent Emigration to D emerara has been particularly fruitful of such cases, when we hear of the teeming population of Barbados therefore, people must not jump to the conclusion that it consists only of a redundancy of labor (Walker to Cardwell, O ctober 31, 1864, C O 29/199). 63. Walker to N ewcastle, A pril 19, 1864, C O 28/198. 64. Walker to Cardwell, O ctober 6, 1864, C O 28/199. 65. Copy A ugust 8, 1864, Walker to Birch, A ugust 12, 1864, C O 28/198. 66. Walker to N ewcastle, N ovember 23, 1863, C O 28/197. 67. H incks provocatively stated that restrictions on indentured workers in British G uiana were not practically much, if at all, greater than those imposed on those labourers in Barbados who reside on Estates (Walker to Newcastle, November 23, 1863, copy November 7, 1863, H incks to Walker, C O 28/197).
LAURENCE BROWN 48 the language of free labor in seeking to curtail bounty-based recruitment, now Hincks deployed the same rhetoric to justify the importation by the colonial state of Barbadian workers. Hinckss scheme of free labor migration resulted in a new surge of emi gration to British G uiana following the summer harvest of 1864. By the end of September 1864, it was estimated that almost 2,800 Barbadian migrants had arrived in British G uiana, over 80 percent of whom were adults. 68 While these migrants received the same comforts and medical care as indentured immigrants, their shorter contracts marked the origins of a new seasonal workforce whose circular migration was shaped by the distinct rhythms of harvest in Barbados and British Guiana. 69 Differences in rainfall meant that crop time (when wages were highest and employment most available) was spread between January and June in Barbados, whereas in Guiana this occurred between S eptember and D ecember (Levy 1980:10; R odney 1981:4, 48; Watts 1987:176). The environmental contrasts between the two colo nies were reinforced during the 1870s by factory modernization in British Guiana, such as the adoption of vacuum-pan and centrifugal technologies, which intensified the seasonal need for cane cutters during a concentrated harvest period. Walter R odney (1981:31-59) has shown how the expansion of plantation production in British G uiana during the late nineteenth century was fueled by increasingly specialized migrant labor forces. While indentured I ndians resi dent on the sugar estates were responsible for the daily cultivation of the crop, the escalating demands of harvest fueled the seasonal migration of Barbadians as skilled cane cutters. S uch segmentation of plantation employment meant that Barbadians claimed the highest-paying tasks, while their departures after the harvest enabled them to avoid the increased disease rates of the wet season (Johnson 1973:12-16). Between 1863 and 1875, the government of British G uiana subsidized the passage of an estimated 21,000 emigrants from Barbados, and it was not until the severe economic depression of 1885 that H inckss scheme for Barbadian labor was abandoned ( R odney 1977:4-5). As Barbadian immigration to Guiana intensified in late 1864, several Kingston merchants were promoting their own scheme for Barbadian immi gration to Jamaica. Working from privately raised funds, a Jamaican agent was able to recruit 150 migrants who left Barbados at the end of August 1864 on the ship Swordfish 70 T hese migrants were promised wages of up to a dollar a day in Jamaica, and they were encouraged by the availability of land at prices as low as five dollars an acre. The scheme echoed Jamaican 68. The Morning Journal O ctober 28, 1864, p. 3. 69. The Morning Journal S eptember 23, 1864, p. 2. 70. The Morning Journal S eptember 6, 1864, p. 2.
EXPERIMENTS IN INDENTURE 49 experiments with European immigration in the 1830s, for as one observer in Barbados, reported, the Principle upon which the Jamaican emigration is conducted, apply rather to the occupancy of uncultivated land than to the supply of labor for sugar estates. 71 From Barbados, migrants traveled without contracts, although they were committed to repaying their passage money and any other advances of funds they had received. 72 The Jamaican immigration scheme therefore contrasted to other recruitment efforts in Barbados because of its initial private sponsorship, the absence of a contract, and the intended employment for the immigrants. 73 S ignificantly, this migra tion never became the influx of laborers desired by Jamaican authorities, as the decision of the local legislature and Jamaicas governor, Edward Eyre, to financially support the recruitment, was used by the governor of Barbados to declare the agents activities illegal. 74 A mongst the emigrants to Jamaica at the end of 1864 was a group of mechanics and artisans from Christ Church (Barbados), who previously attempted to migrate to Liberia during the crisis of 1863. 75 T o contempo raries, such as G overnor Walker in Barbados, it seemed as though the absence of long indentures in Jamaica and British G uiana had changed the composi tion of migration from the island. 76 When F rancis du Bois visited Barbados seeking to restart indentured immigration to S t. Croix in early S eptember 1864, Walker rejected his request by arguing that the continuing movements to G uiana and Jamaica were by skilled workers, people about T own, and not field laborers. 77 Walkers reasoning became enshrined as demographic 71. Du Bois to Birch, August 25, 1864, Koloniernes Centralbestyrelse (hereafter KC) #909, R igsarkivet, Copenhagen. 72. As one Jamaican newspaper proclaimed neither they nor any of their fellow-coun trymen will be under the control of immigration agents; they will be free settlers free in every sense of the word, and subject only to the operation of laws which are enacted by the legislature for the general protection of society ( The Morning Journal September 21, 1864, p. 2). Within two months of the Barbadians settling in the counties of Surry and Cornwall, there had been protest meetings in Port Royal by the Jamaican peasantry over the preferential treatment to free immigrants, while news had reached Barbados of the migrants disappointment in Jamaican conditions ( The Morning Journal O ctober 31, 1864, p. 2; The Morning Journal S eptember 21, 1864, p. 2; D u Bois to Birch, S eptember 26, 1864, KC #909). 73. These differences were perhaps due to the 1858 attempt in Jamaica to restart inden tured immigration from India, as after the arrival of 4,646 Indians the scheme was can celed in early 1863 because planters were not able to bear the costs of recruitment and employment ( G reen 1986:175-76). 74. The Morning Journal N ovember 17, 1864, p. 3; R oberts 1955:255. 75. Royal Gazette A pril 30, 1864, p. 3; Karch 2002:8. 76. Walker to Cardwell, O ctober 31, 1864, C O 29/199. 77. D u Bois to Birch, S eptember 9, 1864, KC #909.
LAURENCE BROWN 50 fact when his successor, G overnor R awson (1872:9), completed a detailed census of the islands population in 1871. Certainly the shift away from indenture in 1864, drew other sections of Barbadian society into leaving the island, but Walker provided little evidence that such a change was as absolute as he claimed in denying further applications for migrant labor. F rustrated by Walkers intransigent opposition to indentured recruitment for S t. Croix, D u Bois examined the mass flow of migrants to British G uiana and wrote to his employers thatThese terms are in no respect in accordance with our views on this sub ject, the emigrant [ sic ] receive no bounty, enter into no contract, and act ing entirely by their own free will, no agent appears in the transaction, the parties conducting this supply of emigrants simply state the terms on which emigrants will be received on their arrival, and supply the vessels necessary for transport and the redundant and suffering population of this island crowd the vessels daily to overflowing. 78 I n contrast, indentures remained a necessity for planters in S t. Croix as their sugar harvest overlapped with Barbados, while they lacked the milling tech nology that made short seasonal migration possible for British G uiana. T hese material conditions resulted in the continued insistence on long-term labor contracts by the St. Croix plantocracy, so that unable to secure migrants in Barbados, their recruitment efforts turned after 1864 to the nearby British Leeward I slands ( T yson 1995:138-43). Francis du Bois had arrived in Barbados in July 1864 confident of obtaini n g indentured immigrants from the island, however within two months that optimism had faded, and not simply because of G overnor Walkers hos tility. As du Bois wrote back to St. Croix, prospects for the recruitment of Barbadian laborers had declined by late September for the season is too far advanced food becoming abundant labour more in demand. 79 T hese profound seasonal changes in material conditions were central to the debates over migration from Barbados during the mid-1860s. O ut of crop, conditions on the island were described as a Malthusian nightmare of overpopulation, underemployment, and food shortage. 80 During harvest, the Barbados elite claimed that any emigration from the island would undermine the labor sup plies need for sugar production. These rhythms of demographic debate in the British West I ndies of overpopulation and labor shortage were them selves changing during the 1860s, as new milling technology concentrated the harvest in British G uiana and T rinidad, which generated new opportuni ties for seasonal migration. 78. D u Bois to Birch, A ugust 25, 1864, KC #909. 79. D u Bois to Birch, S eptember 26, 1864, KC #909. 80. R apport de la Commission, pp. 7-9.
EXPERIMENTS IN INDENTURE 51 F ocusing on the mass movements in the nineteenth century of A sian indentured immigrants to the Caribbean, historians have rarely examined the other attempts, experiments, and failed schemes for migrant labor in the region. Yet these projects often overlapped, so that at the same time that F rancis H incks promoted the codification of I ndian immigration regula tions in British G uiana, he also sought to extend indentureship to Barbados. I ndenture terms were often transplanted from one migrant group to another, as government officials and planters sought new sources for immigration in the early 1860s with the resources and attitudes accumulated during previ ous debates. H owever, this extension of indentureship to Barbadian migrants was rapidly undermined by the competition between the West I ndian colonies over labor supply, by internal tensions within the different colonies over the cost and control of migrant labor, and by the agency of the migrants them selves. U ltimately, it was the failed attempts by Barbadian authorities in 1864 to block mass emigration from their island which marked a new divergence between currents of regional and indentured immigration in the British West I ndies.REFERENCESBECK L ES, HI L ARY MCD 2004. Great House Rules: Landless Emancipation and Workers Protest in Barbados 1838-1928 Kingston: I an R andle. BO LL AND, O NIGE L, 1981. S ystems of D omination after S lavery: T he Control of Land and Labour in the British West Indies after 1838. Comparative Studies in Society and History 23:591-619. CARTER, HENDERSON, 1996. F ood R iots and Labor P rotest in P ostS lavery Barbados: A n Analysis of the 1863 Riots. Unpubl. paper, Conference of the Association of Caribbean H istorians, Barbados. CURTIN, PHI L IP D 1955. Two Jamaicas: The Role of Ideas in a Tropical Colony, 18301865 Cambridge MA : H arvard U niversity P ress. DEERR, NOE L 1949. The History of Sugar, Vol. 1. London: Chapman and H all. , 1950. The History of Sugar, Vol. 2. London: Chapman and H all. DYDE, BRIAN 2000. A History of Antigua: The Unsuspected Isle London: M acmillan. FL ETCHER, L. P ., 1980. Barbados Emigration P olicy from Emancipation to I ndependence, 1838 to 1936. Unpubl. paper, Conference of the Caribbean Studies Association, Curaao. GREEN, WILLIAM A., 1986. Plantation Society and Indentured Labor: The Jamaican Case, 1834-1865. In P .C. Emmer (ed.), Colonialism and Migration: Indentured Labour Before and After Slavery D ordrecht, the N etherlands: M artinus N ijhoff, pp.163-86.
LAURENCE BROWN 52 HALL, DOUGLAS 1971. Five of the Leewards, 1834-1870: The Major Problems of the Postemancipation Period in Antigua, Barbuda, Montserrat, Nevis and St Kitts Barbados: Caribbean U niversities P ress. HIGMAN, B.W., 1982. S lavery and the D evelopment of D emographic T heory in the A ge of the Industrial Revolution. In James Walvin (ed.), Slavery and British Society 17761846 Baton R ouge: Louisiana S tate U niversity P ress, pp. 164-94. HINCKS, FRANCIS 1859. The Results of Negro Emancipation: A Speech delivered at a Public Meeting held in London, August 1 1859: The Twenty-fifth Anniversary of the Abolition of Slavery by the Parliament of Great Britain n.p. JOHNSON, HOWARD, 1973. Barbadian Immigrants in T rinidad, 1870-1897. Caribbean Studies 13(3):5-30. KARCH, CECILIA, 2002. The Pull of the Fatherland: Migration of Barbadians Back to Africa in the 1860s. Unpubl. paper, Conference of the Association of Caribbean Historians, Bahamas. LAURENCE, K.O. 1965. The Evolution of Long-T erm Labor Contracts in T rinidad and British G uiana 1834-1863. Jamaican Historical Review 5:9-27. , 1971. Immigration into the West Indies in the 19 th Century Barbados: Caribbean U niversities P ress. LEVY, CLAUDE 1980. Emancipation, Sugar, and Federalism: Barbados and the West Indies, 1833-1876 G ainesville: U niversity P resses of F lorida. LOOK LAI, WAL TON 1993. Indentured Labor, Caribbean Sugar: Chinese and Indian Migrants to the British West Indies, 1838-1918 Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University P ress. LOWENTHAL, DAVID, 1957. The Population of Barbados. Social and Economic Studies 6:445-501. MARSHA LL, DAWN, 1984. M igration within the Eastern Caribbean, 1835-1980. U npubl. paper, Conference on Cultural Contacts and M igration in the Caribbean, Barbados. MOORE, BRIAN 1987. Race, Power and Social Segmentation in Colonial Society: Guyana After Slavery, 1838-1891 N ew York: G ordon and Breach. NORTHRUP, DAVID 1995. Indentured Labor in the Age of Imperialism, 1834-1922 Cambridge: Cambridge U niversity P ress. RAWSON, R.W., 1872. Report upon the Population of Barbados, 1851-1871 Barbados: n.p. RICHARDSON, BONHAM, 1980. Freedom and Migration in the Leeward Caribbean, 1838-48. Journal of Historical Geography 6:391-408. ROBERTS, G.W., 1955. Emigration from the Island of Barbados. Social and Economic Studies 4:245-88.
EXPERIMENTS IN INDENTURE 53 RODNEY, WAL TER, 1977. Barbadian Immigration into British Guiana 1863-1924. Un publ. paper, Conference of the A ssociation of Caribbean H istorians, Barbados. , 1981. A History of the Guyanese Working People, 1881-1905 Baltimore: Johns H opkins U niversity P ress. SEWELL, WILLIAM G., 1862. The Ordeal of Free Labor in the British West Indies London: S ampson Low. [ O rig. 1861.] SHERIDAN, RICHARD B., 1989. Changing S ugar T echnology and the Labor N exus in the British Caribbean, 1750-1900, with Special Reference to Barbados and Jamaica. New West Indian Guide 63:59-93. SIRCAR, K.K., 1971. Emigration of Indian Indentured Labor to the Danish West Indian I sland at S t Croix, 1863-68. Scandinavian Economic History Review 19(2):136-37. SMITH, K.B. & F .C. SMITH (eds.), 1988. To Shoot Hard Labor: The Life and Times of Samuel Smith, an Antiguan Workingman 1877-1982 T oronto: Edans P ublishers. [ O rig. 1986.] TINKER, HUGH 1993. A New System of Slavery: The Export of Indian Labour Overseas, 1830-1920 London: H ansib. [ O rig 1974.] TYSON, GEORGE, 1995. Our Side: Caribbean Immigrant Laborers and the T ransition to Free Labor on St Croix, 1848-79. In Karen Fog Olwig (ed.), Small Islands, Large Questions: Society, Culture & Resistance in the Postemancipation Caribbean London: F rank Cass, pp. 135-60. WATSON, KARL, 2000. Walk and Nyam Buckras: Poor White Emigration from Barbados, 1834-1900. Journal of Caribbean History 34:137-46. WATTS, DAVID, 1987. The West Indies: Patterns of Development, Culture and Environmental Change since 1492. Cambridge: Cambridge U niversity P ress. LAURENCE BROWNCentre for Cross-Cultural R esearch A ustralian N ational U niversity O ld Canberra H ouse, Canberra A C T 0200, A ustralia
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005):55-77 GERT OO STINDIETHE SLIPPERY PATH S OF COMMEMORATION AND H ERITAGE TOURI S M: THE N ETHERLAND S G HANA, AND THE R EDI S COVERY OF A TLANTIC SLAVE RY The last decade has witnessed a rediscovery in international politics of the A tlantic slave trade and the slave systems of the A mericas. T his is not to say that the issue had been buried in the previous centuries. T he memory of this dreadful episode in the history of mankind has been preserved and transmit ted in oral traditions, landmarks, archives, and libraries on the three conti nents involved. Moreover, scholarly work on the Middle Passage and its consequences has a long and venerable tradition. E ven so the re-emergence of the issue on the international agenda is unique. T he first time the A tlantic slave trade and N ew World slavery were truly on the Western agenda was at the time of the abolition debates at the closing of the eighteenth century. T he context of these intense and protracted debates cannot be fully understood without taking the agency of the enslaved A fricans in the A mericas into account an agency most dramatically expressed in the Haitian Revolution, but in many ways all over plantation America. Y et those permitted to speak and those most likely to be heard at the time in these polemics were mainly the white elites of the A mericas as well as poli ticians, specific religious denominations, and working-class associations in the E uropean nations involved. The contemporary agenda of the debate is less tangible and the field of participants is wider. T oday, the African diaspora is the major instigator of the reconsideration of this past and its legacies, certainly more so than the reluctant former slave-trading nations but also more than the ambivalent African nations involved. In this essay I attempt to illustrate this point in a discussion of the rediscovery of the A tlantic slave trade and A merican slav ery as part of D utch history and the way G hana is included in this appraisal. This analysis includes some observations on the divergence between the scholarly and the grass-roots interpretations of this past. 1 1. T his article is a revised version of a paper presented at the conference on T he T rans atlantic Slave T rade: L andmarks, L egacies and E xpectations, A ccra, G hana, A ugust 30September 2, 2004. I would like to thank Dmitri van de Besselaar, Michel Doortmont,
GERT OO STINDIE 56 THE REDISC O VERY O F ATL A NTIC SL A VERYIt has been pointed out time and again: in world history, slavery has been the rule rather than the unfortunate exception. Among all of the systems of slavery worldwide through the centuries, the A tlantic slave trade and A frican slavery in the Americas are certainly the most extensively studied variants. T he A tlantic system had several unique and horrifying features. F irst, there is the great and unprecedented number of people forced to move over a relatively short period of three-and-a-half centuries. 2 D ecades after the numbers game began, there is still no absolute scholarly consen sus on the numbers involved, and outside academia figures posited are often far higher than within. A uthoritative scholarly estimates now put the total of enslaved A fricans embarked at around 11 million, with just over 9.5 million actually landing alive in the A mericas. T he number of A fricans killed or hav ing perished on the slave routes in A frica is a matter of speculation. M any, including the UNE S CO Slave T rade P roject, estimate that the total number of A fricans enslaved with the objective of bringing them to the A mericas may well be put at 20 million. Second, there is the logistical sophistication of a trade system linking a changing set of strongly contrasting political entities in A frica, the A mericas, and Europe, one of which was only recently known to the so-called Old World. On the African continent, new political configurations developed because of the emerging transatlantic trade. In the Americas, new colonies were literally created, under the whip, by enslaved Africans. Capitalism, globalization, and the intensified use of a form of labor exploitation often mistaken for an economic anachronism went hand in hand. T hird, the A tlantic slave trade is one of the most salient examples ever of racism as a justification for economic exploitation. C hristianity is not incom patible with slavery in itself, and there is a long history within Christianity of whites enslaving whites. Y et in the centuries preceding the discovery and colonization of the New World, the European countries most involved in the Atlantic slave trade had abolished slavery and bonded labor in their own countries. By then, they had come to regard the enslavement of fellow Europeans as being at odds with Christianity and their own conception of Alex van Stipriaan, and Piet Emmer and the editors of the NWIG for their comments on an earlier version of this paper. 2. T he volume of the slave trade from sub-Saharan A frica to the A rabic world may have been of the same size as the transatlantic slave trade, or perhaps even greater (14 mil lion). The Arab slave trade, however, extended over a far longer period (ca. A.D. 650 to the early twentieth century) and thus did not have the same intensity (Segal 2001:55-57). There has been less study of the slave trade in the Arabic world because there are fewer documents on it. A n additional explanation is to be found in contemporary politics.
THE SLIPPERY PA TH O F CO MMEM O R A TI O N A ND HERIT AG E TO URISM 57 human rights. F ew, however, objected to the idea of re-introducing a similar system elsewhere, mainly far from their own countries and subjugati n g out siders conveniently depicted as an altogether different and inferior species of mankind. O ccasionally religious, humanitarian, and philosophical objec tions were raised, but it would take three centuries before they translated into decisive action. By then many millions of enslaved A fricans had been forced to make the horrendous M iddle P assage. A lthough the system had unique features, a better explanation for the renewed contemporary interest in the A tlantic slave trade is the three legacies it left, or is felt to have left: the tangible inheritance of an A frican diaspora in the A mericas and E urope; the enduring effect of the racism that justified ideologically the slave trade; and widely divergent economic situations of the three continents involved. M any recent debates, whether among scholars or the general public, are informed by ideas about these legacies. Some ideas put forward are more convincing than others, but as we know, the signifi cance of beliefs often has little to do with their empirical validity. Whether the Atlantic slave trade has been actually rediscovered is disputable. Centuries of oral tradition both in Africa and the African dias pora have shaped and transmitted a body of knowledge and interpretations which only fairly recently has attracted due scholarly attention. Moreover, scholarly research on the Atlantic slave trade and slavery in the Americas has a very long tradition, dating back to the times the peculiar institution was still intact. Primarily because African Americans have been so central to U.S. history since early colonization, the issue was never allowed to be suppressed even if the dominance of white versions of U.S. history has been, and for good reasons continues to be, a source of African American frustration and anger ( E yerman 2001, E ichstadt & Small 2002). In contrast, in the European countries that once pioneered the Atlantic slave trade, the odious trade and its legacies have been conspicuously absent from public memory until fairly recently. Certainly, British harbor towns have had black communities dating back to the times of the slave trade, and in these towns the experience of slavery was passed on orally. L ikewise, British scholarship has never abandoned the study of the trade and A merican slavery conveniently, there was the ground-breaking abolition at the end of the story to praise and explain. Y et in Britain in the 1930s, when isolated West I ndian historians such as E ric Williams and C L R James were studying Caribbean slavery in Europe, public interest in slavery did not revive. T here was a revival only decades later, in the wake of the post-World War II Caribbean migration to Britain, whereby it gained a constituency interested in this past that was its own. T he N etherlands and F rance witnessed a similar reawakening only in the 1990s. By then, both countries were home to C aribbean communities of fair l y recent settlement numbering several hundreds of thousands. N ot only did
GERT OO STINDIE 58 these communities demand that their past be recognized as a part of national history, but because they were the embodiment of this history, the D utch and F rench were increasingly unable to claim ignorance or profess disinterest. N ational media and politicians took up the issue, interrogated by C aribbean intellectuals and spokespeople possessing in abundance the cultural capital requisite to make themselves heard in the postcolonial metropolis. I n this ideological climate, the F rench A ssemble N ationale declared the Atlantic slave trade, and by definition its own involvement in it, a crime against humanity (1998) a symbolic gesture devoid of material conse quences, as would be confirmed during the 2004 bicentennial of the H aitian Revolution. Similarly, since 1999 the Dutch government has repeatedly declared its remorse for the nations involvement in the A tlantic slave trade and slavery. A national monument to commemorate this past was erected in Amsterdam, on the first of July 2001, Emancipation Day. The Dutch queen and prime minister were at the inauguration, which greatly added to its sym bolic significance. N evertheless, successive D utch governments have refused to discuss material reparations. Other European countries have been less inclined to weigh up their past involvement in A tlantic slavery. T here is some interest in the issue from the minor players, in particular D enmark. Because, however, the former D anish Caribbean colonies were sold to the United States almost a century ago, there has been no Caribbean migration to Denmark, hence little pressure to prioritize the issue. More interesting are Portugal, the foremost slave-trading nation, and Spain, which did not legislate the abolition of slavery in its major C aribbean colony, Cuba, until the 1880s. Apparently neither of the two countries is inclined to join in the self-accusatory gestures made by their fellow Western European nations. Given that the Iberian countries indulged fairly recently in festive commemorations of their colonial history that were anything but politically correct, this does not come as a surprise. A ccording to the I ndian historian Sanjay Subrahmanyam, the Portuguese practically ruined their relations with the Asian countries involved by trying to impose a celebra tory tone on their jubilee, five centuries after V asco da Gamas spectacular maritime exploits, of P ortugueseA sian relations. 3 T o some degree, the Spanish celebrations of the 1492 discovery of the Americas also backfired. Though the events were eventually rebaptized into a euphemistic encuentro (encounter), in Spain the celebratory overtones remained evident. Not so elsewhere, particularly in the Americas. MichelR olph T rouillot (1995:118) astutely observed that the most striking feature of the quincentennial was the loudness of dissenting voices world-wide.3. Sanjay Subrahmanyam in a debate on the Dutch India Company at Amsterdam U niversity, 24 June 2002.
THE SLIPPERY PA TH O F CO MMEM O R A TI O N A ND HERIT AG E TO URISM 59 I t must be admitted that neither of the two countries has experienced migration from the former slave colonies in the A mericas to the extent that Britain, F rance, or the N etherlands did. T herefore there are few afrolatinos to remind the Spanish and the P ortuguese of their involvement in slavery, and even fewer considered I berian enough to be entrusted a voice in the definition of the nation. H ence, in contrast to British, F rench, and D utch gestures, how ever half-hearted they may be, M adrid and L isbon are not givi n g any such signals. Symptomatically, the first market house of the A tlantic slave trade in L agos, southern P ortugal, bears only a small sign M ercado de escravos, under a sign in the same style but with larger lettering saying G aleria. T he former heart of the slave market does indeed house a nondescript art gallery with no relation whatsoever to the buildings past function. 4 H ence it was mainly the three northwestern E uropean slave-trading nations, as well as P resident C lintons U nited States that, in the late 1990s, were weighing up their own transatlantic pasts and actually condemning events that had earlier been glorified or glossed over in deliberate omission. 5 Why did the slave trade and slavery acquire the status of acknowledged subjects for the Wests justifiable self-criticism? T he horror of this past is indisputable, as is the Wests guilt, and the unmistakable hypocrisy of this stage in its history. But if horror and hypocrisy had been the only criteria, other episodes in national pasts would also have been in line for such public gestures. I t undoubtedly helped that the A tlantic slave trade and slavery are completely over, and that they were abolished long ago 170 years today for Britain, almost 160 for F rance, and 140 years for the U nited States and the N etherlands, so these sins of the forebears seem to be at a safe distance. I n addition, there is always the reassuring argument that at least we ended it ourselves and, moreover, that A fricans also participated and were there fore responsible, and that they continued much longer, even up to the present day. Horror, hypocrisy, a thing of the past, space for reflection: on the face of it a fine combination of arguments in favor of a critical reassessment of this painful past. And yet these are neither the only, nor the weightiest of arguments. Of far more direct relevance was the appeal from the descen dants of Africans who were once taken to the New World as slaves. By the 1990s their age-old rage could not possibly be ignored or downplayed. I n the U nited States there was the backdrop of the exasperating l y slow and unbal anced process of emancipation of the A frican A merican population and old story with increasingly sharp edges.4. P ersonal observation and documentation, M ay 2003. 5. T he remainder of this section is mainly taken from my introduction to Facing Up to the Past ( O ostindie 2001).
GERT OO STINDIE 60 I n contrast, the U nited Kingdom, F rance, and the N etherlands were con fronted with an altogether new phenomenon. T he post-World War II exodus from the Caribbean 6 had brought colonial history and particularly the slav ery past home. T he metropolis was suddenly faced with confrontational and well-articulated demands for recognition, at home. I n this new context national and international gestures of recognition and reconciliation were made, incited by the increasingly multicultural nations once deeply involved in A tlantic slavery. T he C aribbean, L atin A merica, and certainly the relevant A frican countries joined in at a slightly later stage, as did the U nited N ations. UNE S CO started its Slave R oute P roject in the mid-1990s. T he U nited N ations proclaimed 2004, the bicentennial of the H aitian indepen dence, the I nternational Y ear to C ommemorate the Struggle against Slavery. GH A N A A ND THE DUTCH SL A VE TR A DE In the Netherlands, a platform of organizations representing the perhaps 300,000 Dutch of African descent (to put this into perspective, less than 2 percent of the Dutch population of around 16 million) was the driving force behind the governments first-ever policy on slavery since its aboli tion in 1863. I n 1999, the government officially expressed its support for the construction of a monument to commemorate slavery. Three years later the national monument to commemorate slavery and its legacies was erected, and the establishment of a research and educational institute, NiNsee, fol lowed ( V an Stipriaan 2001, Kardux 2004). M ore such symbolic gestures have been made or are in the making. T hus the municipality of F lushing in Zeeland, the N etherlands, which had the most active slavi n g harbor of the N etherlands, decided to erect its own monument in 2005. L ikewise, once the mayor of A msterdam learned that his residence had been home to a merchant involved in the A tlantic slave trade, he request e d that a committee of citizens with mainly A froC aribbean roots write an explanatory notice to be attached to the mansion. A s incidental sur veys indicate, public awareness has increased significantly over the past half decade or so. Y et in wider society, the whole issue of A tlantic slavery contin ues to be regarded primarily as an A froC aribbean concern. 7 T he presence of both Queen Beatrix and the D utch prime minister at the inauguration of the monument in A msterdam symboliz e d the states willingne s s 6. In the Jamaican poet, Louise Bennetts mockingly biting phrase, a colonization in reverse. 7. T his slightly pessimistic conclusion derives mainly from my own active involvement as a white scholar and advisor to D utch government and politicians in these issues over the past decade.
THE SLIPPERY PA TH O F CO MMEM O R A TI O N A ND HERIT AG E TO URISM 61 to face up to its slavery past. G hanas ambassador to the N etherlands was also prominently present. By then, G hana had virtually become a representative of all of A frica. M embers of the G hananian community in the N etherlands were indeed appreciated participants in the debates on the monument. 8 How does the past connect Ghana and the Netherlands, and how much significance do the various actors attach to the slave trade in the historical association? As for the past connection, Dutch colonial history extends to Africa, the Americas, and Asia. In the first centuries of colonial rule, two companies, the Dutch East Indies Company (VOC) and the Dutch West I ndies C ompany (W IC ), represented the D utch state both in trade and colo nial rule. The VOC had Asia and the Cape Colony as its domain, while the W IC focused on West A frica and the A mericas. For a variety of reasons which have as much to do with contemporary domestic policies as with colonial history itself, the D utch nurture a long tra dition of pride for the accomplishments of the VOC while the long-obscured history of the WIC was only recently rediscovered. Whereas the VOC was recently commemorated with pride, the WIC is mainly remembered in a context of remorse precisely because the A frican slave trade belonged to its core business ( O ostindie 2003). That the VOC was involved in slave trading and slavery to a similar extent as the W IC is not ignored, but it is certainly not a central issue in his toriography and much less in public memory. M ore generally, the slave trade in A sia and O ceania remain underresearched in comparison with the transat lantic trade. T his historiographic neglect is probably because the A sian slave trade had relatively less impact than its A tlantic counterpart, but also by the fact that its legacies are not as conspicuous and particularly that it left no significant identifiable diaspora. 9 I n the transatlantic slave trade, the D utch were a minor but important par ticipant. O f an estimated grand total of 11 million enslaved A fricans shipped across the A tlantic, their share was probably half a million, just below 5 per cent. T his places the D utch above N orth A merica, in the same category as Spain, and far behind F rance and particularly P ortugal/Brazil and Britain. 10 T he share of the D utch slave trade in and around the G old C oast was greater.8. Mainly, that is, with the Surinamese Dutch. The Surinamese community (some 325,000 people) has a longer history in the Netherlands and is more extensive than the A ntillean community (125,000). H alf of the Surinamese D utch are of A frican origins, the other of A sian ancestry. Surinamese have been dominant in the debate on the monument, a dominance sometimes provoking irritation with A ntilleans. 9. Drescher & Engerman 1998:364. On the early Dutch slave trade in Asia, see V ink 2003 and the extensive literature cited therein. 10. Postma 2003:137. Postma places his revised aggregated Dutch slave exports from A frica, 1600-1803, at 501,409, or 4.6 percent of the estimated total. A s E ltis (2001: T able
GERT OO STINDIE 62 III ) indicates, half the imports into the Dutch C aribbean (specifically to C uraao and St. Eustatius) were immediately re-exported. The proportion of enslaved Africans actually destined for the D utch A mericas proper was therefore only 2.7 percent. 11. D en H eijer (2003:153-4, 157, 159) provides figures for specific shorter periods only. T he proportional value of the major W IC exports from the G old C oast to the N etherlands, 1675-1731 were 86.6 percent for gold and 10.3 percent for ivory. T he value of the major W IC imports into West A frica, 1700-23, was 50.6 percent for textiles, 12.2 percent for military stores, and 11.2 percent for cowrie shells. 12. T he D utch E ast I ndia C ompany developed C ape T own in contemporary South A frica as its major settlement in A frica.Even if mainly the slave trade seems to be remembered today, AfricanE uropean trades extended beyond this. T his applies to D utch trade relations with West A frica as well. T he greater value of this trade was in commodities, not in human cargo. T he major West A frican exports to the N etherlands were gold increasingly not a domestic African product but re-exported from Brazil followed at a great distance by ivory, while the key import items were textiles, followed by military stores and cowry shells. 11 Elmina, the Dutch trading post on the Gold Coast in contemporary G hana, became a linchpin linking A frica with the A mericas, and particularly with the Dutch slave colonies in the Caribbean. The first permanent Dutch trading post on the Gold Coast, and indeed in all of Africa, was the fortress N assau, near M ori, founded in 1612 as an open incursion into the untenab l e Portuguese monopoly in the region. The first Dutch attempt to conquer the nearby and mighty P ortuguese fortress of So Jorge da M ina ( E lmina) failed miserably in 1625. The second attempt, initiated in northeastern Brazil, which was taken from the P ortuguese in 1630, succeeded in 1637. A series of minor fortresses nearby soon changed flags too. T he D utch were now at the apex of their exploits both in Brazil and Africa, and soon conquered major Portuguese fortresses in contemporary Angola and So T om. Securing a steady supply of enslaved Africans for their newly acquired Brazilian plan tation colony became a major interest for the WIC. The Dutch captures of both Angola and So T om and Brazil, however, would soon turn out to be temporary successes only. The Dutch West India Companys fragile hold on West Africa thus cen tered on E lmina, even though the D utch held a number of minor fortresses in its vicinity. 12 T here proved to be no way to keep other E uropean nations from infringing upon the presumed Dutch monopoly. A series of other fortresses in the immediate vicinity were soon held by other Europeans, particularly the British, but also the D anes and others. E lmina itself remained D utch until it passed into British control in 1872, long after the abolition of the A tlantic slave trade, and to the bitter amazement of the local African rulers, who for good reasons thought neither the Dutch nor the British had any right what
THE SLIPPERY PA TH O F CO MMEM O R A TI O N A ND HERIT AG E TO URISM 63 soever to negotiate a trade of ownership of this African proper t y ( D oortmont 2002:29-30). T here was by no means an exclusive connection between E lmina or the entire G old C oast and the N etherlands during the period of the slave trade. F irst, many other regions of A frica supplied human cargo to the D utch slave traders. T he foremost historian of the D utch slave trade, Johannes P ostma, has demonstrated that the enslaved A fricans brought to the D utch colonies in the A mericas hailed from many regions. I n the period of the trade monop oly held by the W IC up to the late 1730s, the Slave C oast (contemporary T ogo, Benin, and the Western part of N igeria) and the A ngola/ L oango region (contemporary C ongo and A ngola) provided 45 and 30 percent of all slaves, respectively. T he share of the G old C oast was nearly 22 percent. I n the subsequent period of free trade the share of enslaved A fricans shipped from L oango dropped to 35 percent, while the greater part was dispatched via E lmina. P ostma indicates, however, that perhaps a majority of those shipped through E lmina did not actually come from the G old C oast or its immedi ate hinterlands, but rather from the Windward regions. By then, E lmina had become the last port of call of the D utch slave trade in all of western A frica ( P ostma 1990:112-24). T he population of enslaved A fricans going to the major D utch C aribbean plantation colony, Suriname, may have been similarly heterogeneous in eth nicity. Alex van Stipriaan estimates that around 30 percent of all enslaved Africans brought to Suriname were shipped from Elmina. Though known collectively as Kromanti, they were probably of more diverse ethnic origins. A nother 30 percent were shipped to Suriname from L oango, 25 percent from the Ivory Coast and the Grain Coast (Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ivory C oast), and 15 percent from the region once known as the Slave C oast ( V an Stipriaan 2000:13). A combination of economic, political, and military factors may explain the changing pattern of slave supplies. L ike all other E uropean slave traders, the Dutch bought Africans wherever they could and at the lowest possible price. Access to specific trading posts in Africa was partly a question of the military balance of power. The price level was another major factor, partly dependent on the competition of other buyers, partly on the conditions at the supplying end. Thus, the demise of the Slave Coast in the early eighteenth century was attributed by a Dutch merchant to the increasing supply at the Gold Coast created by political instability in the latter area. He explained that the expansion of the Ashante in the interior had had a negative effect on the production and supply of gold, but had at the same time provoked a substantial rise in the number of prisoners of war offered for sale as slaves to the D utch ( D en H eijer 2003:160, 164). The Gold Coast supplied enslaved Africans to other European nations as well. The Portuguese had footholds elsewhere in West Africa and soon
GERT OO STINDIE 64 also negotiated their way back into the immediate region of Elmina. Their share in all of the slave trade from West Africa called the Costa da Mina by the Portuguese was massive, but the proportion traded from the Gold C oast specifically is difficult to determine. A part from temporary incursions by the Swedish and the Brandenburgers, the French and, to a lesser extent, the D anish were consistently active on the G old C oast too. N evertheless, the British were by far the most important slave traders in this particular part of West A frica. 13 ELMIN A A S A LIEU DE M M OIRE IN GH A N A I A NDUTCH REL A TI O NS T he direct historical links between G hana and the N etherlands through the odious commerce are indisputable, and it is not my intention to dimini s h E lminas present role as a symbol of these long and shameful years of early D utch expansion. N onetheless D utch involvement in the A tlantic slave trade extended far beyond contemporary G hana and, conversely, the G old C oasts commercial relations were neither limited to slave trading nor to D utch mer chants and officials. I n recent scholarly literature on the bilateral relations, the embeddedness of the slave trade in a wider array of commercial relations is emphasized. A good example of this approach is the edited book published on the occasion of the tercentennial of G hanaianD utch relations, fixed somewhat arbitrarily in 2001-2002. Most contributors to the book, Merchants, Missionaries and Migrants: 300 Years of Dutch-Ghanaian Relations (V an Kessel 2002), go out of their way to emphasize that the slave trade was a shameful chap ter in this past, but certainly not the only chapter in the bilateral relations. Interestingly, throughout the book, both Ghanaian and Dutch authors stress that traders on both sides acted on equal footing: there was no way for the D utch to dictate the supplying end of the market, whether in slaves, gold or other goods ( V an Kessel 2002). T he obvious fact that the D utch A tlantic slave trade extended far beyond the coastal regions of contemporary Ghana seems lost to all but a handful of scholars. I n public debates and government statements in the N etherlands on the slavery issue, one observes a tendency to conflate all of Africa into Ghana, or even Elmina. This historical inaccuracy is easily explained. We dearly need tangible legacies of the past and if ever there was one monu mental lieu de mmoire of the D utch slave trade, it is obviously E lmina with its G ate of N o R eturn. 13. C urtin 1969:122, 128-9, 150, 170, 200, 207-8, 210-13, 221, 223-7; T homas 1997:346-9.
THE SLIPPERY PA TH O F CO MMEM O R A TI O N A ND HERIT AG E TO URISM 65 Y et there is an additional, truly postcolonial factor at work here. Over the past decades, a small but thriving Ghanaian community has established itself in the N etherlands. T his community officially numbers around 15,000 today, though unofficially it counts many more. Over half of them live in Amsterdam, which, because of its large Caribbean community, is also the heart of the slavery debate. M oreover, it is there that the national monument in commemoration of Atlantic slavery stands. Not surprisingly Ghanaians already participating in local politics and community work also became involved in the slavery debate as almost the only A fricans, whence the redis covery of the colonial links which had nothing to do with their initial decision to move to the Netherlands. This pragmatic rediscovery of histori cal links is a perfect illustration of how the context in which the transatlan tic slave trade was rediscovered in Europe primarily reflects contemporary domestic concerns and conditions. I n the D utch public debate, full attention is being paid to the D utch role in the slave trade on the demand side, whereas the A frican role on the sup ply side is rarely touched upon. T he neglect of the A frican role is not par ticularly surprising. T he debate began chiefly as a means to break the silence surroundi n g transatlantic slavery, which for so long veiled this past and which was offensive and grievous to the descendants of enslaved A fricans now livi n g in the Kingdom of the N etherlands. A ny white man/woman pointing to joint responsibilities, whether evenly borne or not, is likely to be consider e d as openly evading the question of metropolitan responsibility. M oreover there is little inclination to embarrass the G hanaian community with questions and accusations regarding their forefathers possible involvement in the sell ing off of the ancestors of the contemporary C aribbean communities in the N etherlands. I t seems that D utch C aribbean protagonists in the debate tend to shy away from the subject in order not to create internal dissension. C ertainly, D utch authorities are in no position to raise the point of A frican complicity. C ouncillor H annah Belliot with the A msterdam town council, did raise this delicate issue in public significantly, she is of Surinamese descent. I n 2002, on the occasion of the tercentennial, A shante King O tumfo O sei T utu II visited the N etherlands. T he invitation was extended by the D utch govern ment. A t a reception, M rs. Belliot refused to shake hands with the king, demanding in vain apologies for the A shante involvement in the slave trade instead. 14 H istory repeated itself, for three decades ago, a select group of M aroon chiefs from the interior of Suriname traveled to G hana, T ogo, Benin, and N igeria, and likewise though more politely demanded explanations from the A frican chiefs they met there for the selling of their forebears. T hey did not receive a satisfying answer either ( D e G root 1974:18-9, 22, 32-36).14. D ocumented in the D utch newspaper NRC Handelsblad, June 20, 2002.
GERT OO STINDIE 66 I n diplomatic relations, A ccra has made it clear that the past linkages through the slave trade should not present a major issue on the bilateral agenda, thus sparing the D utch government further embarrassment, but also itself after all, the issue is also a potentially divisive one in G hanas contemporary multiethnic society. T hus the remorse over the slave trade expressed by the D utch crown prince on his 2002 visit to G hana was prompted less by G hanaian pressure than by D utch domestic concerns. T he princes declaration, while a symbolic gesture of importance, evaded an outright apology and thereby the matter of reparations: We look back with remorse to that dark age of human relations. We pay tribute to the victims of this inhuman trade. 15 ACCUR A CY, AP O L OG IES, A ND ACCUS A TI O NSThe way Ghana is included in what for all practical purposes is mainly a D utch debate including the D utch of Surinamese or A ntillean descent, and now the Dutch Ghanaian community too points to the wider question of scholarly accuracy in a politicized context. After all, the slavery debate as it has emerged in Western countries such as the Netherlands advocates a breaking of the silences of previous generations yet risks to substitute new half-truths and silences for old ones. A cademic debates should not shy away from delicate issues. But the core business of scholarship, even of scholarship of such horrifying episodes in world history as the transatlantic slave trade, is analysis and accuracy, not apologies or accusations. The prime concern of scholars of slavery in the A tlantic world includes both the need to work toward a balanced assessment of the past and its presumed contemporary legacies and to report these find ings to a wider audience. Whatever the scholarly community relays should be based on sound research; it should not simply tell the interested public what it prefers to hear. There is therefore an academic responsibility not to accept a divergence between the scholarly debate and the politicized public discourse. Much is lost when the pasts and legacies the two circuits evoke correspond to entirely separate realities. 16 15. V isit of April 15, 2002 to Elmina. NRC Handelsblad April 16 and 18, 2002. De Volkskrant A pril 18, 2002. 16. T he case against the emergence of two discursive circuits discussing the slave trade and its legacies is made emphatically by Pieter Emmer in the postscript to the reprint of his both authoritative and controversial monograph on the Dutch slave trade (Emmer 2003:241-71). I agree on this with E mmer, even if unfortunately his own contribution to the bridging of this divide is at times unduly polemical and therefore counterproductive.
THE SLIPPERY PA TH O F CO MMEM O R A TI O N A ND HERIT AG E TO URISM 67 T he so-called numbers game may illustrate this point. I n the past decades a good deal of scholarly time and effort has been spent on assessing the total volume of the A tlantic slave trade, the regions of origin, destinations, gender ratios, mortality rates, and so on. A s new archival records were combed and new methodologies and immense quantitative data sets were developed, the reliability of the scholarly evidence has increased. 17 Even if disagreements over figures continue and the numbers game is likely to remain a significant historical industry for some time to come (Eltis & Richardson 1997:2), there is a fair degree of consensus. The most widely accepted scholarly calculations tend to converge and have not been significantly revised since Philip Curtin (1969:268) estimated that the total of enslaved Africans that actually landed in the Americas was around 9.5 million. Recent estimates still suggest there were around 11 million embarkations and around 9.5 mil lion landings ( E ltis & R ichardson 1997:2; D rescher & E ngerman 1998:372; Eltis 2001, T able 1). Arguments for an upward revision by long-time par ticipants in the numbers game, such as Joseph Inikori and Paul Lovejoy, yield only moderate discrepancies: around 10.2 million arrivals (Lovejoy) and 12.7 million departures (Inikori), a revision of around 7 to 15 percent, respectively ( E ltis 2001). On the basis of such estimates, the total number of Africans enslaved in the interior of the continent with the objective of being transported to the Americas is often put at 20 million. There is neither absolute certainty nor consensus, and such figures are used in much of the scholarly com munity with due prudence. In contrast, the numbers brought up in public debates often exceed this amount by a wide margin. Thus one finds refer ences to more than three hundred million men and women ... forcefully uprooted and dreadfully transported from their Motherland in an official brochure, published in 2004 by the Ghanaian government. 18 The president of the D utch platform urging for a monument in commemoration of slavery advanced a number of 60 million enslaved Africans, again, not an estimate corroborated by scholarly analysis. 19 Some of these divergent estimates are a result of poor acquaintance with recent scholarship. Others are prompted 17. Particularly the one compiled at the W.E.B. Du Bois Institute of Harvard University ( E ltis et al. 1999 ). 18. E mbau M oheni 2004:16. T he prominent G hanaian historian, Kwesi J. A nquandah, president of the G hana C hapter of the UNE S CO Slave R oute P roject, suggests a more cautious figure, though one that clearly exceeds conventional calculations: some 7 mil lion A fricans exported from the G old C oast alone. Quoted in a magazine published by the M inistry of T ourism and M odernisation of the C apital C ity: Ghana: A Different Africa  p. 13. 19. Barryl Biekman, quoted in an article D e zwarte holocaust, De Groene Amsterdammer M ay 13, 2000.
GERT OO STINDIE 68 by a deep mistrust of white scholarship. T he depiction of a wide range of sensitive issues may be similarly colored, amongst them being the participa tion of A fricans on the supply side, the profitability and economic significance of the slave trade for the three continents involved, the background to abolition and its widely divergent timings, the connection between the slave trade and racism then as now, the issue of trauma borne in the A frican diaspora and its consequences in contemporary societies, the relevance of religion to systems of slavery ( C hristianity versus I slam), and so on. T he terminology at a recent conference in A ccra on the slave trade betrays the effect of emotions on scholarship. 20 Several participants at the conference fiercely objected to a broad use of the very term slave trade. A ny references to contemporary problems such as the abduction of chil dren in A frica a major issue addressed at the conference by a represen tative of the U N C ommission on H uman R ights under the heading of slave trade were deemed incorrect, if not irresponsible. T he argument is straightforward: N othing compares to the atrocities of the A tlantic slave trade. While any attempt at trivialization is out of place, one may well question the affirmation that nothing compares. T here is a thin line here between scholarship, politics, rage, and hypocrisy. A t the A ccra conference, the con cepts of slave trade and slavery were explicitly narrowed to refer to the A tlantic variant while paradoxically the term H olocaust was expanded to include the A tlantic slave trade. I ndeed, the once uniquely U .S. locution Black H olocaust has gradually acquired popularity all over the Black A tlantic. 21 T here is an evident political rationale behind the shifts in connotation that slave trade and H olocaust undergo, which one may or may not condone, but intellectually this maneuver is not convincing. P articularly in the Western world, there appears to be a willingness to commemorate, to erect symbols of remembrance, to record and canonize stories of repres sion, victory, and redemption. Whereas no nation is eager to dwell on its own past sins, communities with a history of being oppressed are not inclined to remember their own histories with detachment. I nevitably, at times unsettling debates emerge about who suffered most, and jealousy is directed at those who have been most successful in finding recognition 20. C onference on T he T ransatlantic Slave T rade: L andmarks, L egacies and E xpectations, A ccra, G hana. P ersonal observations during the conference and a subsequent visit to E lmina and other fortresses. 21. Google offers over 1.2 million entries for Black Holocaust. A Dutch-language G oogle search for zwarte holocaust results in 11,400 entries. T he latter search also leads to a white racist web group that both ridicules D utch of A frican origins and downplays or denies the Jewish H olocaust (web search M arch 15, 2005).
THE SLIPPERY PA TH O F CO MMEM O R A TI O N A ND HERIT AG E TO URISM 69 and compensation for past suffering. O ften the emphasis on victimhood is married to the expectation of reparations. 22 T he ways in which victimhood and agency are treated in public debates are also indicative of the particular slant the depiction of the A tlantic slave trade gets: mainly as a history of E uropean colonial powers abusing A fricans and the continent of A frica, and hence as a tale of simple bipolar racism. While scholarship has moved beyond that crude schematization, the emergence of the A tlantic slave trade as an issue embraced in the three continents involved and by international institutions such as UNE S CO seems to have dictated a narrowing of the issue again to the racial-cumcolonial issue. As Singleton (1999:157) remarks, many Ghanaians feel that they have no reason to apologize for their ancestors involvement in the slave trade. A t the A ccra conference participants did not shy away from discussing A frican agency in the trade. Inevitably, with such openness the debate assumes a potentially divisive dynamic not only between the African diaspora and Africans, but equally within African countries such as Ghana, with its dif ferent ethnic groups brought together in one in what became the R epublic of Ghana only long after the abolition of the slave trade. Some of these ethnic groups once enslaved others, an embarrassi n g truth known to all, yet hard to discuss yet another warning against debating the A tlantic slave trade from a purely moralistic perspective.HERIT AG E TO URISME ven if there are serious philosophical objections to the very idea of nations repenting or demanding apologies for past wrongs ( T rouillot 2000) few would question the relevance of commemorating historical atrocities. But there is no obvious way to even begin to respectfully remember any event of mass suffering, whether it be the A tlantic slave trade, the H olocaust and the G ulag, C ambodias killi n g fields, or the recent genocide in R wanda. T hings become even more complicated once the remembrance of past horrors becomes part of heritage touri s m, which is a money-making business, after all. Silencing the past of A tlantic slavery is no longer an option. T he way to break past silences is not evident, and whatever choices are made in repre senting A tlantic slavery in museums are bound to stir controversy (e.g., 22. See Buruma 1995; in the context of the D utch debate on slavery, see O ostindie 1999. See also Ian Burumas essay The Joys and Perils of V ictimhood, New York Review of Books A pril 8, 1999 and T ony Judt, A la R echerche du T emps P erdu, New York Review of Books D ecember 3, 1998.
GERT OO STINDIE 70 V aswani 2001, H aviser 2002). Whatever initiatives are undertaken to give this past its proper place in public memory, the dangers of banalization and tokenism ( P rice 2001b:62) are always clear and present. G hana, too, supported by U S AID UNE S CO the D anish and D utch gov ernments, and others, is now actively engaged in developing its own heritage tourism. Inevitably the slave trade is at the core of this developing tourism and is given a more privileged position probably than local G hanaians would like it to be (e.g., Bruner 1996, Singleton 1999, Hartman 2002). Here too, contemporary concerns and contingencies tend to interfere with historical realities. African Americans were the first to develop interest, on a larger scale, in visiting the H omeland. T oday, this interest is still heavily concen trated in the English-speaking African diaspora. This Anglophone prepon derance in turn has stimulated a disproportional, if not exclusive, interest in English-speaking Africa, and particularly in Ghana. Ironically, Africa is narrowed to connote the present more than the past centuries. T here are some speculative explanations for why primarily A nglophones show interest in A frica, and E nglish-language A frica at that. F irst, most H omeland visitors hail from the E nglish-speaking A frican diaspora in part simply because of their relative prosperity in comparison to most of the A frican diaspora. F urthermore, it is precisely in the U nited States that A frican A mericans have felt more excluded from the domestic mainstream than any where else in the A frican diaspora. I t may be that they seek a sense of belong ing in an A frican H omeland which they do not have in their physical home. T he British West I ndies meanwhile have a long-standing migratory and ideological interaction with the A frican A merican community. I n contrast, the other relatively affluent segments of the diaspora are increasingly more integrated in their former metropolitan culture; this applies particularly to the F rench C aribbean departments. I f there is an A frican lieu de mmoire of any significance to the C aribbean F rench, it is rather the island of G ore, part of F rancophone Senegal and thus of the former F rench colonial world. 23 That the contemporary United States and Anglophone Caribbean orient themselves toward African states where English is widely spo ken is not surprising, even if this does not necessarily reflect the origins of their ancestors. 24 But why particularly Ghana? Perhaps the long-stand ing relations between African American and West Indian intellectuals with Kwame Nkrumah has set a lasting precedent. In addition, of the relevant 23. E mail communication, Kenneth Bilby, M arch 28, 2005. 24. On Google, linking slavery and heritage tourism to Ghana yields 7,360 results. N igeria scores even higher (9,830), but of course this is a much larger and more populous state. N onA nglophone states such as A ngola (4,600), Senegal (4,700), Benin (852), and T ogo (723) all yield fewer results (web search M arch 15, 2005).
THE SLIPPERY PA TH O F CO MMEM O R A TI O N A ND HERIT AG E TO URISM 71 A nglophone A frican countries, G hana is economically and politically the most stable and hence most attractive destination, and, of course, it possesses the largest number of fortresses from the period of the A tlantic slave trade. Whatever the historical accuracies or distortions, Ghana in return has started to present itself as the Black Star of Africa and the gateway to the H omeland. A s the countrys minister of tourism explains, we hope to give tourists, especially those of A frican descent in the D iaspora, a real feel of the experience of their ancestors as they went through the torturous moments of being captured, trekked through the wild African forest, crossing rivers and being sold to slave dealers. Ghana hopes that in 2007, the fiftieth year of the countrys independence and the two hundredth anniversary of the British abolition of the slave trade, our brothers and sisters whose ancestors were forcibly taken away from us [will] return to the H omeland, at least for a pil grimage and to reconnect with their roots. T he R epublic has already institu tionalized a national E mancipation D ay. T he choice for the first of A ugust is illustrative of the rather narrowly defined symbolism of the rediscovered transatlantic linkages. T his particular day is, of course, the day of the aboli tion of slavery in the British West I ndies, a date without any particular prior meaning to G hana at all ( O betsebiL amptey 2004:7). Ghana, a country struggling to diversify its economy, is thus profiting from its preferred relations with the African diaspora in its development of heritage tourism. A long the A tlantic coastline, fortresses once in use as cen ters of the slave trade are now being restored to attract tourists, some of whom are descendants of the enslaved Africans shipped from these very places or willing to believe so for lack of proper documentation. Several things strike the visitor. T he guides at the fortresses, while they avoid moral izing, do produce their own silences: no mention here of the A frican supply side. 25 One wonders what the forts thus tell the great majority of visitors, who are actually Ghanaians. And one wonders where reconciliation, the buzzword at the A ccra conference, plays a role. T he development of this heritage tourism implies commoditization and standardization. T hus in various fortresses one observes the same routing and even the same apparently standardized and centrally produced signs ( F emale Slave D ungeon, D oor of N o R eturn, etc.). A ll fortresses are apparently allotted a D oor of N o R eturn, irrespectively of the architectural accuracy of its location within the fortress and indeed of the fact that probably the majori t y of the enslaved A fricans never set foot in the fortress but were direct l y trans ported to and from the A tlantic beach. T ourist facilities restaurants, souvenir shops are added within or immediately next to the forts. I nevitably, local 25. T he guides probably adjust their explanations to suit the ethnic composition of the groups of visitors taking a tour ( H artman 2002:768-69).
GERT OO STINDIE 72 youth hang about, imposing conversation, friendship, and more tangible com modities on the visitors. F or them, it seems to matter little whether the obroni (originally whites, today foreigners, generally) are black or white (Bruner 1996:295; H artman 2002:766). I n fact, to keep the locals from harassing tour ists of whatever color, signs indicate that only tourists are allowed to enter E lmina castle (Bruner 1996:298, Singleton 1999:158). Small wonder, then, that some African diaspora visitors have been out raged by the commercialization of their ancestors suffering. T he restoration of the fortresses was denounced in vain as whitewashing and cleansing of the tragic past (Bruner 1996:291; Singleton 1999:157). Less assertive reactions also reflect the uneasiness with the way the painful past is pre sented and new transatlantic solidarities are offered. After a visit to Elmina castle, Saidiya Hartman (2002:768) remarks that the idea expressed by the guided tour (Y ou are back!) makes her ill at ease. The most disturbing aspect of these re-enactments is the suggestion that the rupture of the M iddle P assage is neither irreparable nor irrevocable, but bridged by the tourist who acts as the vessel for the ancestor. In short, the captive finds his redemption in the tourist. Can the Ghanaian government really do much better, short of letting the fortresses fall into ruin? Whatever compromises are made and whatever deli cacy is observed by museum curators and guides, the deep contrasts are not likely to disappear. The parallel between the endemic mismatch between European and African diaspora visions and feelings regarding the slave trade is obvious. T o complicate things in the case of G hana, the very E uropean nations the D anish and particularly the D utch formerly involved in slave trading are now financially assisting the Ghanaian government in its policy of developing this heritage tourism. The irony is obvious: there would have been no particular reason for Ghana to maintain any specific relationship with either the Netherlands or its former Caribbean colonies, if not for the Ghanaian community in the N etherlands and because G hana is one of the countries selected by the D utch government for preferential development aid. The preservation of cultural heritage is one among many development projects now funded by the D utch, and so it is that this former slave-trading state is now co-financing the upkeep E lmina, its own erstwhile main slave-trading fortress. While the whole endeavor may have a wry flavor to it, Elmina is now firmly fixed as the ultimate lieu de mmoire for the Dutch slave trade. Not only did the crown prince express his remorse for Dutch slave trading at Elmina, but in several recent Dutch television documentaries on the trade, E lmina figures prominently. H eritage tourism developed for the A frican dias pora in the N etherlands or its former C aribbean colonies is almost matt e r-offactly directed to G hana, not to any other site in A frica.
THE SLIPPERY PA TH O F CO MMEM O R A TI O N A ND HERIT AG E TO URISM 73 H istorical accuracy is not the major concern behind this heritage tourism, but rather the longing to connect to a tangible Homeland with the AfroC aribbean communities in the N etherlands taking the lead, whether because of their relative prosperity, their permanent exposure to a E uropean society in which they are a cultural minority, or a combination of the two. I ncidentally, in the recent upsurge of genealogical websites offering databases on manu mission, of the emancipation registers, and so on one observes the predomi nance and political clout of the diaspora now in the Netherlands. How this apparent longing to connect back to ancestors once toiling under slavery relates to contemporary identity issues is a matter of debate. N onetheless, it is the metropolitan state which, through its national archives, facilitates this roots-searching. 26 CO NCLUSI O NIn the general debate on slavery and its legacies, there are also many issues of lesser sensitivity that deserve serious reflection, simply because they will help us understand the rich variety of cultures developed in the diaspora. F or example, any serious study of A frican A merican culture should begin by establishing the various origins, and thus cultures, of enslaved A fricans that influenced the N ew World creolization processes. Accuracy has been under-appreciated in understanding the past and the present alike. Patrick Manning (2003) points out an ironic blind spot of A frica-diaspora studies: the A frican continent itself is presented too often in oversimplified terms of an undifferentiated Homeland. Beyond academia, such oversimplifications are omnipresent. Here again, the conflation of A frica and G hana in the discussion of slavery in the D utch orbit and beyond is not particularly helpful. 27 T he challenge of somehow bridging scholarly concerns and A frican identity issues remains, and there are no easy answers or clear-cut divi sions. Some remarks regarding a recently started program on T he A tlantic World and the D utch, 1500-2000 may illustrate this point. I n this project an attempt is made both to identify the major landmarks, archival records, and library resources rooted in the centuries of D utch exploits in A frica and the A mericas and to establish what research initiatives and priori ties presently exist. T he project is based and financed in the N etherlands, yet by definition attempts to link up with archives, libraries, and scholars 26. For Suriname see
GERT OO STINDIE 74 in all countries involved. 28 G hana is among these; so are A ngola, A ruba, Brazil, G hana, G uyana, the N etherlands A ntilles, Suriname, and the U nited States. 29 The issue of the Atlantic slave trade is obviously a preponderant one in the project, at least for the first centuries of the Dutch Atlantic. Y et the extent to which representatives of the various countries involved define the slave trade and slavery as the defining characteristics of early D utch expan sion in the Atlantic realm differs considerably. As a consequence there is, next to the straightforward accusatory Caribbean attitude and its apologetic metropolitan complement, the very ambivalent African attitude. Moreover, there is the perspective from New Amsterdam, one in which the African dimension of early D utch settlement was recently rediscovered, but certainly not as a defining characteristic (e.g., Jacobs 1999, Shorto 2004). A nd finally, there is the view from the pioneering Dutch settlements in the Americas, in Brazil. Here, the naive observer is amazed by the uncritical tone and even sheer exaltation characterizing many contemporary Brazilian renderings of D utch colonialism. 30 T hese widely divergent perspectives somehow relate to the same histori cal phenomenon. A ccounting for these divergences is in itself a worthy sub ject for scholarly analysis. A nd, to conclude on a deliberately old-fashioned positivistic note, no serious explanations are likely to come forward without getting some historical facts right first.28. The project is based at the KITLV/Royal Netherlands Institute of Southeast Asian and Caribbean Studies (www.kitlv.nl) in Leiden and is supported by the Amsterdam Municipal Archives, the Dutch National Archives, the Erasmus University Rotterdam, Leiden University, the National Institute for the Study of Dutch Slavery and its Legacy ( N insee), and the N ational L ibrary of the N etherlands. 29. T erritories where Dutch exploits were more transitory, like for instance Gore, So T om, and T obago are included. 30. For example, Herkenhoff 1999, Montes, Mota Menezes & Galindo 2004. Rosa Ribeiro (2004) offers a provocative analysis of the Brazilian interpretation of Dutch Brazil (1630-54); see also P ijning (2002).
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THE SLIPPERY PA TH O F CO MMEM O R A TI O N A ND HERIT AG E TO URISM 77 the Americas and Europe. Kingston: Ian Randle/T he Hague, the Netherlands: Prince C laus F und, pp. 58-62. RO S A RI B EIR O, FERN A ND O, 2004. M iscegenation and M estizos: P ortuguese C olonialism and Luso-Brazilian Imaginings of the Dutch Colonial Other. In Siegfried Huigen & Jean Kommers (eds.), Interpretations of Colonial Representations: Reflections on Alterity, Colonial History, and Intercultural Contact Saarbrcken, G ermany: V erlag fr E ntwicklungspolitik, pp. 55-79. SEGAL, RONALD 2001. Islams Black Slaves: The Other Black Diaspora New Y ork: F arrar, Straus and G iroux. SH O RT O, RUSSELL 2004. The Island at the Center of the World: The Epic Story of Dutch Manhattan and the Forgotten Colony that Shaped America N ew Y ork: D oubleday. SIN G LET O N, THERES A A. 1999. T he Slave T rade R emembered on the F ormer G old and Slave C oasts. Slavery and Abolition 20(1):150-69. STIPRI AA N, ALEX V A N 2000. Creolisering: Vragen van een basketbalplein, antwoorden van een watergodin. R otterdam: E rasmus U niversiteit R otterdam. 2001. T he L ong R oad to a M onument. In G ert O ostindie (ed.), Facing Up to the Past: Perspectives on the Commemoration of Slavery from Africa, the Americas and Europe. Kingston: I an R andle/ T he H ague, the N etherlands: P rince C laus F und, pp. 118-22. THOMAS, HUGH 1997. The Slave Trade: The History of the Atlantic Slave Trade 14401870 L ondon: P icador. TROUILLOT MICHEL-ROLPH 1995. Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History Boston: Beacon P ress. , 2000. Abortive Rituals: Historical Apologies in the Global Era. Interventions: International Journal of Postcolonial Studies 2(2):171-86. VA SW A NI, RA T A N, 2001. A R espectable T rade. In G ert O ostindie (ed.), Facing Up to the Past: Perspectives on the Commemoration of Slavery from Africa, the Americas and Europe. Kingston: I an R andle/ T he H ague, the N etherlands: P rince C laus F und, pp. 138-43. VINK, MARKUS, 2003. The Worlds Oldest T rade: Dutch Slavery and Slave T rade in the I ndian O cean in the Seventeenth C entury. Journal of World History 14:131-76. GERT OO STINDIEK ITLV / R oyal N etherlands I nstitute of Southeast A sian and C aribbean Studies P O Box 9515 2300 RA L eiden, the N etherlands
JOHN P. HOMIAKUNDERSTANDING A MODERN A NTIQ U E: CHALLENGES TO R EPRESENTING R ASTAFARI IN THE T WENTYF IRST CENT U RY Reggae, Rastafari, and the Rhetoric of Social Control. STE P HEN A KING with contributions by BARRY T BAY S III & P. RENE FO S TER Jackson: University of Mississippi P ress, 2002. vii +173 pp. (Cloth U S $ 40.00). The First Rasta: Leonard Howell and the Rise of Rastafarianism. HLNE LEE. Chicago: L awrence H ill Books, 2003. vii +306 pp. (Cloth U S $ 26.95). Drawing increasingly upon digital technologies and the internet to assert a sense of community even as they cultivate an austere biblical persona, adher ents of Rastafari can be thought of as simultaneously modern and antique. Their claim to antiquity is grounded in a collectively professed AfricanEthiopian identity that has not only resisted the ravages of enslavement, colonialism, and E uropean cultural domination but is seen to transcend local differences of culture and language. T heirs is a way of life organized around theocratic principles that begin with a recognition of the divine in all peoples and as the basis of all human agency. R astafari assert the universal relevance of these principles to the conditions of modernity even as they persistently claim social justice on behalf of all peoples of African descent exploited by colonialism and the prevailing global capitalist-imperialist system. Based on these general themes, the Rastafari movement has come to represent a large-scale cultural phenomenon that has long since burst the chains of its colonial containment in Jamaica. From the late 1960s onward it has spread throughout the Caribbean and the Central and S outh A merican rimland to the major metropoles of North America and Europe as well as to many sites on the A frican continent. F rom this brief, one can perhaps appreciate that the cultural identity known as R astafari (along with its associated practices and movement goals) gives rise to many potentially unstable points of identification. Moreover, with its
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005) 80 geographic reach and diversity, the movement promotes a complex position ing of subjects in relation to changing sociopolitical circumstances that may be at once local and global. H owever, despite the explosion of literature on R astafari over the past decade or so, there is little published work that orien t s scholars or potential researchers to the ideological and organizational diver sity that co-exists within the contemporary movement. T his is significant because R astafari principles typically exist within a state of dynamic tension. T he ubiquitous R astafari calls for universal peace-and-love and their con tending exclusivist demands for truth-and-rights in the service of social jus tice for blacks is but the most notable example. T he actual workings of these principl e s in shaping consensual communities of practitioners no doubt has important implications for understanding how the movement has developed (in Jamaica or elsewhere), and how R astafari identity is shaped, transformed, and reproduced anew in specific sociopolitical contexts. T his, in turn, also rais e s the issue as to what now constitutes a reasonable geographical or temporal frame of analysis for exploring certain aspects of R astafari as a contemporary socioreligious movement. I n her analysis of the role that symbolic ambigui ties have played in the spread of the movement, Carole Y awney (1994:75-83), a long-time ethnographer of R astafari, is to my knowledge one of the few schola r s to offer systematic insights into these processes and issues. One of the problems with the expanding literature on the movement is, of course, that so little of it is based on actual ethnography or better, multisited ethnography, as is increasingly called for given the transnational reality of the movement. This is perhaps understandable given that many research ers are drawn in by what they take to be the public face of Rastafari, reggae music. This has given rise to a number of popular works that approach the culture of Rastafari largely as a media phenomenon carried forth on a wave of enthusiasm for the music as it is heard in concerts, broadcasts, and the dissemination of records and CDs (W eber 1992, OBrien Chang & Chen 1998, Roskind 2001). This view poses multiple problems. It obscures both the depth of commitment that characterizes practitioners of R astafari in com munities throughout the Black Atlantic and the complex relationship that exists between the practitioners of the movements theocratic principles and the artists who disseminate its popular musical culture. In addition, it tends to obscure the deep and still largely unexplored history of R astafari, a move ment that was birthed by harmonizing discourses (e.g., Ethiopianism and pan-Africanism) and international events (e.g., the defeat of the Italians at A dwa in 1896 and the I talianE thiopian war, 1935-41) that resonated across the A frican world. T wo recent books, S tephen Kings Reggae, Rastafari, and the Rhetoric of Social Control and H lne L ees The First Rasta: Leonard Howell and the Rise of Rastafarianism warrant consideration in terms of a number of the points outlined above. T he fact that King is an academic trained within
REVIEW ARTICLE S 81 the field of speech communications and that L ee is a widely traveled F rench music journalist should tell us something about the fascination that R astafari continues to command as a contemporary cultural phenomenon. Both authors came initially to their respective projects via an interest in the musical form and message of reggaeR astafari as a popular culture. T hey share a general interest in understanding how R astafari has morphed through several phases of development in order to understand how this improbable cult has become an international movement. I f only in relation to these concerns it is useful to con sider what their works contribute to the expanding field of R asta studies. H ow have the protest anthems of the classic era of reggae been transformed into support for Jamaicas tourist industry? S tephen King tackles such general questions of co-optation in his monograph a revision of his dissertation that at times suffers from an overly academic presentation, particularly when he attempts to fit data to the categories of his particular social movement theory. T he study attempts to comprehensively trace how Jamaicas protest music has changed both lyrically and musically over a twenty-one year period, and how the Jamaican government has attempted to silence or co-opt these voices of protest (p. xxiii). King concludes with a look at how R astafari claims for social justice in reggae have been co-opted first in the service of the islands emergent nationalism and then to assist Jamaican tourism. King locates the roots of reggae in ska (1959-65) and rocksteady (196667), the two musical forms that preceded it. I t was ska, a music that blended mento, the indigenous Jamaican version of calypso, with A merican jazz and rhythm and blues, that reflected the optimistic mood of the country during the run-up to Jamaican independence. A s economic conditions worsened for the majority of Jamaicas blacks during the mid-1960s, the more aggressive lyri c s of rocksteady gave voice to the frustrations and alienation of the islands underand unemployed ghetto dwellers. A nd then there was the advent of reggae in the late 1960s and through the 1970s, the period that is remem bered as the high-water mark of R astafari influence on an emergent Jamaican nationalism. R eggae, of course, began as a R asta-inspired music that not only articulated the panA frican vision of the movement and its demands for social justice, but that celebrated the cultural practices and symbols of R astafari. King does a credible job in mapping the general contours and themes of these musical developments against the backdrop of a changing Jamaican society. In the course of this he shows how the roots of Rastafari musical protest are organically intertwined with the development of both preceding forms. While this is hardly newsworthy to many aficionados of Jamaican music, King provides some interesting examples that illustrate how critical commentary and protest themes, however restrained, existed within ska lyr ics from the outset. The occasional presence of Rastafari drumming, bibli cal references (e.g., R iver Jordan, Mount Zion), and allusions to repatriation through the idiom of the promised land were all important resonances in
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005) 82 this music that portended the development of popular music as an important communicative medium for the R asta movement. King describes rocksteady as a music that is more aggressive, that speaks more directly to the collective frustrations and suffering experienced by the islands lower classes. Frequently, this music celebrates the Rude Boy or new male ghetto rebel as he has been memorialized in popular discourse. P rince Busters T oo H ot and D errick Morgans T ougher T han T ough are both examples of this figure, an individual who sought social and political justice with a ratchet (knife) or a gun. King points out that rocksteady lyr ics tended to condone more aggressive protest against the oppression of the sufferah class, while in specific cases evoking linkages with the general R astafari critique of the Babylonian neocolonial system. O f critical importance to the dissemination and popularization of this music, King notes, were sound systems developed to carry high-fidelity playback equipment to rural and urban dances throughout the island. T his por table technology, he argues, enabled the development of a community of dis sent by transporting music to sites where the voice of the poor could be heard without interference by local authorities (p. 16), a development that contin ued from the era of ska through reggae to the present. I t is certainly true that sound systems served to strengthen an already extant discourse of protest, but King fails to recognize that long before sound systems, the R asta movement itself was about creating alternative spaces for face-to-face communication in which counter-hegemonic discourse was reproduced and disseminated. Many readers will be disappointed by the fact that King does not access any of the subjects who actually created this music. While he did interview a number of the key figures among the Jamaican intelligentsia, his analysis is weakened by what appears to be his near complete reliance on secondary sources. Furthermore, some of his descriptive categories are incommensu rate with the cultural reality of the Rastafari. Major parts of Kings analysis hinge on his use of a version of social movement theory to frame the ways in which the government and the dominant society responded to Rastafari. In this regard, he discusses strategies of aversion, counter-persuasion, coercion, and adjustment, all supposedly being forms of social control exercised by the Jamaican government or representatives of the dominant society. T hese seem overly cumbersome. In my view Kings discussion would have been more effective if he had simply limited it to the modes of repression and co-opta tion brought to bear on the movement. King appears to have a somewhat shaky grasp of the stages through which Rastafari has evolved as a polycephalous or acephalous movement. Among other things, he gives little, if any attention to ways in which the Rastafari themselves met and attempted to counter strategies of social control (particu larly harassment and repression) by the dominant society, and how this may be reflected in popular music. The same is true with respect to co-optation.
REVIEW ARTICLE S 83 It is, of course, true that Rastafari symbols and imagery have been mas sively co-opted in Jamaica since the 1970s. King, however, fails to recognize the ways in which Rastafari have responded to this, either directly or indi rectly. In Jamaica, various forms of Rastafari cultural practice, for example, have developed as sites of struggle over the definition of who and what is Rastafari. I have made this point elsewhere in relation to the development of islandwide ceremonial gatherings (i.e. Nyahbinghi) as they took shape from the early 1970s onward ( H omiak 1999:105). D uring roughly this same period, orthodox Rastafari organizations inaugurated their own forms of traveling culture that saw Elders move throughout the Caribbean and beyond. T he result is that significant numbers of R astafari E lders now com mand enormous respect outside Jamaica. Such figures routinely sojourn in R astafari communities elsewhere in the Caribbean, A frica, or N orth A merica where they serve as models for the development of cultural practice and ideology. Along with Y awney (1994), I have argued that the popularization of the Rasta message via reggae actually prepared the ground for a kind of re-missionizing by traditional Jamaican-born Elders in black communities elsewhere in the Black A tlantic world. In other instances King misunderstands the facts, for example in citing the state visit of Haile Selassie to Jamaica in 1966 as a government strategy of adjustment, intended simply to appease the Rastafari. In actuality, this was a calculated gamble on the part of the conservative JLP government to destabilize the movement and quell Rastafari demands for repatriation. It was assumed by authorities that the emperor would publicly disclaim the divinity attributed to him by the brethren and thereby undermine the central tenet of the movement. T he strategy backfired when the N egus awarded cer emonial gold medals to thirteen brethren and for the first time in the history of the movement gave the R astafari a place on a national stage. King notes that Selassie met with various Rastafari leaders at this time and was alleged to have counseled them to liberate the Jamaican people before repatriation to Africa (p. 34). He links this to changes in the tone of musical protest themes, arguing that it led to and exacerbated divisions between religious and political Rastafarians. Those familiar with the social history of the movement will recognize some truth in this claim, but the claim that adherents can be separated into these two camps, made all too frequently by writers who rely primarily on secondary sources rather than firsthand experience of the Rastafari, is unjustified. Inasmuch as the emperors visit conferred a measure of unprecedented legitimacy upon the Rastafari, it gave them a newfound standing in society from which both to plead issues of social justice and to press for their goal of repatriation. The major shortcoming here is that King fails to explore what the labels political and religious might actually mean in the context of a movement whose members claim to orient their ideology and practice within a theo
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005) 84 cratic culture. Governance and spirituality are, from a Rastafari perspecive, unified parts of a single whole from a R astafari perspective. W hile adherents may place different degrees of emphasis on the agencies of spirituality (e.g., chanting, prayer, and ritual) and governance (e.g., political protest and inter vention with government) to achieve their ends, the theocratic orientation they share continues to unite them in their overall critique of the hegemonic order. W hat is lacking in parts of Kings analysis is an ethnographic perspec tive that enables him to grasp this and understand how Rastafari can absorb political discourse (e.g., Black Power during the 1960s) yet, strictly speak ing, not be politicized by it (see King pp. 50-51). I n addition to the difficulty that King encounters in sequencing the nature of R astafari protest, he also lacks ethnographic familiarity with the organiza tional diversity within R astafari (i.e. its varied mansions) and the differe n t stances that these organizations have taken toward the dominant society as well as the ostensible goals of the movement. He argues, for example that the internationalization of reggae exacerbated a similar split among the Rastafari. It is true that the marketing of reggae initially caused many tra ditional R astafari to be appalled by what they considered the commercial ization and secularization of the movement (p. 90). T o this day, the House of Boboshanti, perhaps the most theocratic of all R astafari groups, officially rejects reggae as part of their culture. Y et at the same time, it was in large measure the popularity of reggae in Jamaica and abroad that enabled R astafari to cross over into the middle class during the 1970s. The T welve T ribes of I srael, a R astafari organization that flourished during that decade, facilitated this crossover and embraced reggae as the medium by which to spread their specific variant of Rasta ideology. Perhaps ironically, this organization also became the most aggressive of all Rastafari groups in pursuing repatriation of its members to Ethiopia and arguably remains so to the present. These, however, are observations that escape Kings analysis. His discussion of the ways in which reggae has been co-opted for com mercial ends (via tourism) is potentially the strongest part of the book, par ticularly in his treatment of the phenomenon of rent-a-dreads (pseudoRastas) that ply the north coast resort areas as hustlers and as players in the trade in sexual tourism that has developed since the late 1970s. W ith tourism as the current number-one source of Jamaican foreign exchange, King rightly notes the economic importance of governmentand tourist-board-sponsored international reggae events like Sunsplash and Sunfest So too with the way Jamaica has capitalized upon the legacy of Bob Marley and its own defi nitions of Rastafari as a peace-and-love island vibe. If anything, Kings discussion of the topic fails to go far enough in providing examples that illus trate the extent of the co-optation of R astafari symbols that have occurred in the past decade. T his would extend to advertising campaigns by A ir Jamaica (with billboards announcing Reggae bird flights and urging consumers to
REVIEW ARTICLE S 85 Fly Air JAAAAH-Maica!) as well as to adverts by Nestle (Rasta Ice) and D enoes and G eddes bottling ( O ne Beer O ne P eople). King also fails to recognize that no forms of co-optation and control are absolute. He offers no discussion of how the Rastafari themselves have responded to or circumvented co-optation by the Jamaican establishment forms of control that have sought to model safe perceptions of R astafari which could dominate the public discourse about the movement and its Jamaicanness. The fact that Rastafari have become part of the accepted social landscape of Jamaica must be seen as due not only to the commodifi cation of Rasta symbols made possible by the popularization of reggae, but also to a regime of resolute persistence by the movements culture-bearers in the face of repression throughout the colonial and much of the postcolonial era. O ver the past quarter-century, it is the latter that has made the older gen eration of Jamaican Rastafari models of inspiration for legions of adherents outside the island. T his and other observations raise the question as to whether the Jamaican context remains an effective unit of analysis in speaking about the move ment from the late twentieth century onward. King does not mention that the Rastafari movement at large now holds observer status within the United N ations or that Jamaican R astafari have forged alliances with selected mem bers of the Jamaican intelligentsia. Nor does he question whether initia tives deriving from such alliances are developments that co-opt or empower the movement. Among these developments would be the creation of the Folkfilosophie Program at the University of the W est Indies which, since the late 1990s, has hosted legendary Rastafari Elder, Mortimo Planno (Bob Marleys mentor) and the hosting of several international R astafari confer ences. One can argue that these and other expressions of what King might consider adjustment now provide a platform for Jamaican R astafari that has enabled them to consolidate their networking throughout the Caribbean region and beyond. I t can be argued that organizations like the Caribbean R astafari Organization (with members throughout the Anglophone and Francophone eastern Caribbean) and the R astafari Centralization O rganization in Jamaica have enabled the international movement to sustain a focus on its goal of repatriation and to continue to its demands for social justice on multiple fronts across much of the Black A tlantic world. The First Rasta (originally published in 1999 in F rance), is a very different kind of work, much more literary in character. L ike Kings, it is ultimately linked to the music of R astafari but on a much more personal level. H lne L ee, a widely traveled journalist who has covered music in both the Caribbean and A frica, came naturally enough to this work. H aving once been married to two major stars of A frican music, S alif Keita and Cote d I voires reggae star A lpha Blondy, she covered reggae during its international ascendancy in the
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005) 86 1970s. I nfected with curiosity about the sustaining root source of the R astafari message and how it managed to colonize the world in a mere thir t y years after the advent of reggae, she has produced her own version of ethnography. I t is one that involved living with R astafari in Jamaica and tracking accounts of those close to the first R asta, the most influential expounder of the origi nal R astafari message, L eonard H owell, as well as those around the most famous R asta, Bob Marley, and other reggae luminaries. H owell is widely acknowledged as the first person to proclaim the divinity of E mperor H aile S elassie of E thiopia. L ike G arvey, he was among the tens of thousands of emigrated Jamaicans returning to the island during the 1920s and early 1930s at the onset of the G reat D epression. T he majority of these individuals were widely traveled laborers who had worked in N orth A merica and throughout the Caribbean Basin and had experienced the brunt of racial prejudice in a white-controlled world. I t was in the context of this collec tive racial experience that the revelation of an E thiopian divinity captured the imagination of the marginalized and oppressed of Jamaicas black masses. O f all the early R astafari preachers, it was arguably H owells mission that was the broadest and most successful. H e proselytized not only in Kingston, but throughout the eastern parishes of S t. T homas, P ortland, and S t. Mary. H ere his message of A frican redemption struck a responsive cord among rural plantation workers, many of whom were descendants of Central A fricans who came to Jamaica as indentured laborers during the postE mancipation period. Many of these rural converts followed H owell and helped him to establish his legendary commune in S t. Catherine known as P innacle. Lee offers some new materials to scholars of Rastafari as well as to a general readership interested in the movement. She interviewed a number of Howells former followers from Pinnacle, as well as most of his children and other surviving members of his extended family. H er interviews provide some interesting insights into the myths that surround Howell as prophet, mystic, traveler, and writer. T hanks to L ees work, we can add to this list the titles of healer and businessman. She spent time tracing Howells activities in N ew Y ork City during the period of the H arlem R enaissance and turned up some speculative evidence that H owell may well have functioned as a healer or operator of a tea room where folk decoctions were dispensed. She also spent considerable time attempting to trace H owells business dealings from the time he purchased the estate in St. Catherine where he established his commune. T his she links to his alleged subsequent dealing with the govern ment as a major producer and exporter of ganja. In Rastafari circles, talk of an association between Howell and an international ganja trade has circu lated for decades. T o my knowledge, Lee is the first person to place Howell at the center of Jamaicas developing international ganja trade in the early 1950s and to link him to politically connected local businessmen (pp. 196-
REVIEW ARTICLE S 87 200). This, as is generally assumed, is linked to the ultimate destruction of H owells commune and its economic base in 1954. W hile there is clearly original field research (as well as archival research) behind her book, L ees passion in telling a story as opposed to documenting and contextualizing the complex convolutions and twists in the development of a subaltern reality will present some frustrations for scholars of the move ment. L ee points to the fact that she draws liberally upon the seminal work of R obert H ill, the Jamaican-born G arvey scholar who has researched H owells impact on the genesis of the movement ( H ill 1981); to a lesser extent she also acknowledges the work of Ras Michael Lorne, himself a publisher and stu dent of Howell. In much of what the book covers with respect to the protoRastafari figures, and ideas and events surrounding Howell, however, it is difficult to discern where Lee is drawing on the work of these individuals and where she is leavening the text with her own insights. I have not seen the book in its original French edition (published by Flammarion in 1999), but in the English version footnotes are sparse and her references are applied to broad swaths of text, making it difficult to decipher precisely what is being cited and credited to another authorial source. Most of the text dealing with Howell reads more like biography than ethnography. At times, one wonders if Lee knows what to make of all the information she has gathered and I suspect that she is hindered by her lack of in-depth knowledge of the sociocultural context in which the founders of the movement worked. This comes through in her treatment of Howells lead ership role in the early movement. Clearly, he was a leader with enormous charisma, but there is little in this book that gives insight into the relation ship between H owell the prophet and his followers. F rom my own work with two groups of Howells followers (some of whom were with him at P innacle), it is clear that H owell drew creatively on the cultural practices and worldview associated with both Kumina and the R evival complex to enhance his stature and to organize the ritual life of his followers at Pinnacle (see Bilby & Leib 1985). This reflects the fact that many of Howells converts from rural S t. T homas were most certainly practitioners of Kumina, a familybased ancestor-oriented religion. L ee barely mentions these points. W hile L ee notes the presence of Kumina drumming at P innacle, she appar ently lacks a perspective from which to explore the broader implications and meaning of this tradition for H owells followers. N or does she have a way of linking the ritual life at P innacle to subsequent developments among the R astafari after the Jamaican government raided and dismantled the commune in the mid-1950s. T his is an omission of some significance since it is well known that many of those individuals who played key roles in the devel opment of the movements D readlocks cultural efflorescence were frequent visitors at P innacle, either to attend services or procure ganja. T he H owelliteD readlocks connection thus remains obscured. I n accounting for the transition
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005) 88 from the demise of H owells commune to the next phase of the movements development, L ee simply notes that T he R astas of the 1960s were ghetto dwellers with an urban agenda (p. 218). W hile it can certainly be argued that the ghettoes of Kingston became the focal point for the movement during this decade, the movement, even during the heyday of H owells influence, has always involved a back and forth between rural and urban contexts. A nd this was true for both followers of H owell and other early R astafari leaders. A similar underdeveloped sociology influences the way in which L ee construes other developments in R astafari. A t times this means using liter ary devices as opposed to substantive evidence to fashion the connective tis sue between developments that are, in fact, sociological rather than merely narrative. I n a chapter entitled T he N ya-Binghis, for example, she briefly explores the source of the term N yabinghi (the name of an A frican secret society supposedly bent on race war), as coming from an article of I talian fascist propaganda that sought to undermine support for E mperor S elassies fight against Mussolinis invasion in 1935. L ee points out that the racist over tones associated with the term N yabinghi (said to be translatable as death to the whites) combined with widespread sympathy for the E thiopian struggle among Jamaicans. A gainst this backdrop, there was also H owells highly publicized trial for sedition for his public declaration that with the crown ing of E mperor H aile S elassie, Jamaican blacks no longer owed allegiance to the king of E ngland, G eorge V I F rom the alchemy of these coincident events, L ee concludes that S uddenly, every R asta in Jamaica wanted to join the N ya-Binghis (p. 93). H ere, L ee gives misplaced organizational concrete ness to the concept of N yabinghi (similar to her treatment of the discourse of Jamaican E thiopianism). W hat actual currency the term N yabinghi may have had in the early movement is somewhat questionable, and, counter to L ees implication, there was certainly never any group at the time known as the N ya-Binghis. F rom the 1950s onward, as the R astafari began to develop their own distinctive cultural practices, the term did accrete a number of meanings in addition to its initial significance as a term of racial protest. Ultimately it became a kind of omnibus term referring to the movements stance of nonviolent resistance, to the ritual-drumming-chanting complex of R astafari, and to the loosely-knit organization later known as the H ouse of N yabinghi. T he sequencing of these developments, however, is missed by L ee. At times, Lees understandings of the cultural backdrop and aesthetic sensibilities against which R astafari evolved seems insufficient for her to do justice to the complexities of her story. For example, she notes the impor tance of several early proto-Rastafari texts, The Holy Piby and The Royal Parchment Scroll of Black Supremacy that circulated among members of the movement. But she treats these as though they were lifted whole cloth by adherents and stamped into doctrinal status. By contrast, my experience
REVIEW ARTICLE S 89 has been that these texts circulated in bits and shards, providing elements to be recombined anew. There are other minor points that should be treated with caution, includ ing assertions about the East Indian influence on the growing of dreadlocks at H owells commune (p. 102) a highly speculative source for this R astafari practice. In some instances, Lee seems to have insufficient knowledge of various Jamaican folk practices to make sense of data that she gathers. Based on its esoteric wordplay and jargon, L ee concludes that the text of the Royal Parchment Scroll by R everend F itz Balintine P etersburg, a Jamaican preacher and forerunner of the R astafari, may either have been deliberately sabotaged by the printers or that it reflected the work of a man disoriented by ganja (pp. 48, 163). A much more likely conclusion is that the florid and hyperbolic language used by Balintine reflected the style of speechifying typical of tea meetings and related rhetorical contests of the time in which words were taken to have talismanic power. These reservations notwithstanding, Lee has produced a commendable work and one that attests to the passion and commitment she has brought to her efforts to tell H owells story and that of his place in the early movement. As an ethnographer who has worked with Rastafari for over two decades, I find it rare to encounter an international journalist whose reputation precedes her, even among some hard-edged Rastafari Elders. From firsthand contact with Bob Marley and Chris Blackwell (the record producer who made him famous), to members of the Mystic R evelations of R astafari ensemble, to for mer H owellites and traditional E lders of the H ouse of N yabinghi, H lne L ee has known them all. F or general readers this book will be a page-turner. F or scholars of Rastafari, The First Rasta will suggest a series of other avenues for firsthand and archival research. Bearing in mind that Leonard Howell was not the only early leader within Rastafari, Lees work will encourage readers to rethink the conjunction of events, ideas, and personalities that shaped the formation and development of Rastafari from a tiny cult in colonial Jamaica that seemed destined for oblivion to a spiritual nationality that has been embraced by untold numbers worldwide.RE F ERENCE SBIL B Y, KENNETH & ELLIOTT LEI B, 1985. Kumina, the H owellite Church and the E mergence of R astafarian T raditional Music in Jamaica. Jamaica Journal 19(3):22-28. HILL, RO B ERT, 1981. D read H istory: L eonard P H owell and Millenarian Visions in E arly R astafari R eligion in Jamaica. Epoch 9:30-71.
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005) 90 HOMIAK, JOHN P., 1999. Movements of Jah People: From Soundscape to Mediascape. In John Pulis (ed.), Religion, Diaspora, and Cultural Identity: A Reader in the Anglophone Caribbean A msterdam: G ordon and Breach P ublishers, pp. 87-123. KING, STE P HEN A ., 2002. Reggae, Rastafari, and the Rhetoric of Social Control. Jackson: University of Mississippi P ress. LEE, HLNE, 1999. Le premier Rasta. P aris: F lammarion. , 2003. The First Rasta: Leonard Howell and the Rise of Rastafarianism. Chicago: L awrence H ill Books. OBRIEN CHANG, KEVIN & WAYNE CHEN, 1998. Reggae Routes: The Story of Jamaican Music P hiladelphia: T emple University P ress. ROSKIND, ROBERT A., 2001. Rasta Heart: A Journey into One Love Blowing Rock NC: O ne L ove P ress. WE B ER, TOM 1992. Reggae Island: Jamaican Music in the Digital Age Kingston: King ston P ublishers L imited. YAWNEY, CAROLE D., 1994. Rasta Mek a T rod: Symbolic Ambiguity in a Globalizing Religion. In T erisa E. T urner & Bryan J. Ferguson (eds.), Arise Ye Mighty People!: Gender, Class & Race in Popular Struggles T renton N J: A frica W orld P ress, pp. 75-83. JOHN P. HOMIAKD epartment of A nthropology S mithsonian I nstitution W ashington D C 20560, U. S A < H omiak.Jake@nmnh.si.edu>
RICHA R D PR ICE & SALLY PR ICE BOOKSHELF 2004 The longer were in this game, the more were tempted to classify people according to their replies when we invite them to review books. At the bottom of the hierarchy are those who say yes, receive the review copy, and are at least in terms of the business at hand never heard of again. A close second are those who simply never reply to the invitation no yes, no no, no sug gestions for someone else to contact. Given how long it takes to email a no thanks, this strikes us the height of collegial discourtesy. Its in this context that we so deeply appreciate colleagues who do send in their reviews, whether promptly or just under the wire. As in past issues, we take this opportunity to convey our gratitude, and that of our readers, for their faithful contributions to the journal. In this same vein, we are pleased to announce that this years Caribbeanist H all of S hame includes only six delinquents six books that cannot be dis cussed in the journal because the scholars who agreed to review them have, despite reminder letters, neither provided a text nor relinquished the books so that we could assign them to someone else. As has become our custom, we indicate slack reviewers names with both initial and final letters, in an attempt to forestall false accusations and protect the reputations of the innocent. Slavery Without Sugar: Diversity in Caribbean Economy and Society Since the 17th Century edited by Verene A. S hepherd (Gainesville: University Press of F lorida, 2002. ix + 284 pp., paper U S $ 59.95) (Rd A. L l) The West Indians of Costa Rica: Race, Class and the Integration of an Ethnic Minority by Ronald N. H arpelle (Montreal: McGill-Queens University Press, 2001. xx + 238 pp., cloth U S $ 70.00) ( E d T. Gn) The Sugar Industry and the Abolition of the Slave Trade, 1775-1810 by S elwyn H H Carrington (Gainesville: University Press of F lorida, 2002. ix + 362 pp., cloth U S $ 59.95) (Cr L Bn) More Than Black: Afro-Cubans in Tampa by S usan D. Greenbaum (Gainesville: University Press of F lorida, 2002. 383 pp., cloth U S $ 55.00) ( F x Md-Po)
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005) 92 Witchcraft and Welfare: Spiritual Capital and the Business of Magic in Modern Puerto Rico by Raquel Romberg (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2003. xxviii + 315 pp., paper U S $ 24.95) ( S n Gy) Encumbered Cuba: Capital Markets and Revolt, 1878-1895 by S usan J. F ernandez ( Gainesville: University Press of F lorida, 2002. ix + 203 pp., cloth U S $ 59.95) ( L n Ga) It is our custom to begin our annual review with literary works (which by tradition do not receive full reviews in the NWIG ). F or a change, we start with works in E nglish. Derek Walcott offers up another rich gift, The Prodigal (New York: F arrar, S traus & Giroux, 2004, cloth U S $ 20.00), jacket graced with his watercolor of a rural S aint L ucian street scene, contents roaming around the broader Atlantic world, from Greenwich Village to Cartagena to the church spires and train stations of E urope and back again to the dolphins and angels of his beloved Caribbean a joy. It Falls into Place ( L ondon: Papillotte Press, 2004, paper 7.99) brings together for the first time the short e r fiction of Phyllis S hand Alfrey, which moves between L ondon, New York, and her native Dominica, and delicately mixes a hard-nosed gaze on colo nialism with West Indian humor. The Poetry of Slavery: An Anglo-American Anthology, 1764-1865 ( O xford: O xford University Press, 2003, paper U S $ 29.9 5) edited by Marcus Wood, offers a startlingly varied (and consistently interesting) compendium of works ranging from those by canonical authors to now-forgotten figures, black and white. The Macmillan Caribbean Writers S eries ( O xford: Macmillan Caribbean) has produced several winners: in The Annihilation of Fish and Other Stories (2004, paper 4.95), veteran Jamaican novelist Anthony C. Winkler spins out some lively, belly-laugh-inducing short stories with his trademark sense of the absurd, set among islanders living at home and abroad, and Dancing Nude in the Moonlight (2004, paper 5.50) is Antiguan novelist Joanne C. H illhouses exploration of the lives of immi grants from the Dominican Republic in Antigua. That same series has also reprinted a trio of novels: The Humming-Bird Tree by Ian McDonald (2004, 5.95), a 1969 award-winning Trinidadian work; Brown Face, Big Master (2003, paper 7.95), a 1969 work by Jamaican Joyce Gladwell; and Brother Man (2004, paper 4.95), Roger Maiss classic novel in praise of Rastafari, reissued exact l y fifty years after its first publication.Wilson H arris works his special magic in two recent books, The Dark Jester ( L ondon: F aber & F aber, 2001, paper 9.99), yet another remarkable meditation upon history by the Guyanese master, this time bringing together conquest, empire, dreams, and memory, with the ghostly figure of Atahualpa, the doomed Inca, always hovering nearby. And The Mask of the Beggar ( L ondon: F aber & F aber, 2003, cloth 16.99) begins with O dysseuss disguise upon returning at last to Ithaca, his mask fissured with Chinese, Indian, African, and E uropean face-parts peeking through, and Quetzalcoatl and other unexpected characters
REVIEW AR TICLE S 93 (from Trotsky to Van Gogh) making appearances in an imaginary CaribbeanGuyanese seaport called H arbourtown that becomes the setting for wide-rang ing ruminations on the nature of art. Meanwhile, in a very different vein, The Island: Martinique (Washington DC: National Geographic, 2003, cloth U S $ 20.00), by John E dgar Wideman, is the lightly tossed-off, self-indulgent work of a major novelist that could have had just about any location in the Caribbean as the subtitle. O ne learns something about Wideman and the way life looks to him as he approaches sixty, but precious little about Martinique hardly surprising since he seems to have spent most of his brief time there playing around in bed with his new F rench companion. E dwige Danticat once again shows her spell-binding talents in The Dew Breaker (New York: Alfred A. K nopf, 2004, cloth U S $ 22.00), creating an interwoven series of powerful, heart-breaking tales of the Duvalier years and their imprint on the lives of H aitians at home and abroad that bear witness to the horrors of totalitarianism. Two welcome translations from F rench: L yonel Trouillots Street of Lost Footsteps ( L incoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2003, paper U S $ 16.95), searing yet lyrical prose recounting H aitis night mare and hopes, and Gisle Pineaus Exile According to Julia (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2004, paper U S $17.95), by one of Guadeloupes (and the Caribbeans) most interesting emerging novelists. S till in the Anglophone zone, wed like to mention a terrific documen tary film which we previewed recently in S o Paulo, in the presence of L ord S uperior: Calypso Dreams directed by Geoffrey Dunn & Michael H orne (www.calypsodreams.com). Its filled with rare historical footage of great calypsonians, as well as touching conversations between S parrow, Calypso Rose, and many others. Great sound track, guaranteed enjoyment. F our works of literary criticism not otherwise reviewed in our pages. F abian Adekunle Badejos Salted Tongues: Modern Literature in St. Martin (Philipsburg, S t. Martin: H ouse of Nehesi, 2003, paper U S $ 15.00), is a longneeded introduction to the S t. Martin literary and publishing scene. Vanguardia Latinoamericana: Historia, crtica y documentos by Gilberto Mendona Teles & K laus Mller-Bergh (Madrid: Iberoamericana, 2002, paper 24.00) is a rather strangely conceived S panish-language antholo g y of works from Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, H aiti, Guadeloupe, Martinique, and F rench Guiana that are said to represent the twentieth-century vanguar dia: Carpentier, L ezama L ima, Ballagas, Csaire (and a bit of Glissant), S aint-John Perse, and so on. Black Subjects: Identity Formation in the Contemporary Narrative of Slavery by Arlene R. K eizer (Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 2004, paper U S $ 18.95), is a theoretically sophisticated and engagi n g analysis of diasporic literature, two of whose chapters consider Paule Marshalls The Chosen Place, The Timeless People and Walcotts Dream on Monkey Mountain. Michelle M. Wrights Becoming Black: Creating Identity
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005) 94 in the African Diaspora (Durham NC: Duke University Press, 2004, paper U S $ 22.95), also theoretically sophisticated, with a strong feminist under tone, treats the historical engagements of writers and thinkers from the United S tates, E urope, and the Caribbean with black subjectivity. There is a miscellany of works for which we were unable to find will ing reviewers (in one case after six attempts), including a book that won the prestigious Gordon K and S ybil L ewis Award for Caribbean S cholarship La ayuda militar como negocio: Estados Unidos y el Caribe by H umberto Garca Muiz & Gloria Vega Rodrguez ( S an Juan: E diciones Callejn, 2002, paper U S $ 22.50). O thers are Idioma, bilingismo, y nacionalidad: La presencia del Ingls en Puerto Rico by Roam Torres-Gonzlez ( S an Juan: E ditorial de la Universidad de Puerto Rico, 2002, paper n.p.); Haitian-Dominican Counterpoint, by E ugenio Matibag (New York: Palgrave, 2003, cloth U S $ 55.00); Talking Rhythm Stressing Tone: The Role of Prominence in AngloWest African Creole Languages by H ubert Devonish ( K ingston: Arawak, 2002, paper U S $ 20.00); The European Union and the Commonwealth Caribbean edited by S tephen J. H Dearden ( H ampshire U. K .: Ashgate, 2002, cloth U S $ 69.95); Black Heretics, Black Prophets: Radical Political Intellectuals by Anthony Bogues (New York: Routledge, 2003, paper U S $ 22.95); Democracy Delayed: The Case of Castros Cuba by Juan J. L pez (Baltimore MD: Johns H opkins University Press, 2002, cloth U S $ 42.50); A Fierce Hatred of Injustice: Claude McKays Jamaica and His Poetry of Rebellion (New York: Verso, 2000, cloth U S $ 25.00), Winston Jamess mas terful analysis of the poets early years in Jamaica and his pioneering use of Jamaican Creole, as well as an anthology of his early poems; and This Land is Our Land: Immigrants and Power in Miami by Alex S tepick, Guillermo Grenier, Max Castro & Marvin Dunn (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003, paper U S $ 19.95), a penetrating, accessible overview of the ongoing remaking of Miami. Two colleagues who fell ill when their reviews were in the pipeline had to focus fully on their health; in citing the titles they would have written about, we wish them both a complete and speedy recovery: Creating Their Own Space: The Development of an Indian-Caribbean Musical Tradition by Tina K Ramnarine ( K ingston: University of the West Indies Press, 2001, paper U S $ 25.00), and A History of St Kitts: The Sweet Trade by Vincent K H ubbard ( O xford: Macmillan E ducation, 2002, paper 17.95). We move now from the general toward the specific. Challenging the Boundaries of Slavery by David Brion Davis (Cambridge MA: H arvard University Press, 2003, cloth U S $ 18.95), an expansion of three lectures deliver e d at H arvard, is a wide-ranging exploration of its subject. The openi n g chapter on the origins and nature of New World slavery, perhaps the single best introduction we have ever read, includes such well-chosen nuggets as By 1820, at least ten million African slaves had arrived in the New World,
REVIEW AR TICLE S 95 as opposed to a grand total of two million E uropeans. Introduction to the Pan-Caribbean, edited by Tracey S kelton ( L ondon: H odder Arnold, 2004, paper 19.99), is a slim geography textbook, designed for who-knows-what readership, which consistently misspells H erskovits. Central Africans and Cultural Transformations in the American Diaspora edited by L inda M. H eywood (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002, paper U S $ 23.00), an essential compilation for historically minded Caribbeanists, particularly in its African background chapters, also includes several chapters on H aiti and one on Guyana. In Slavery on the Frontiers of Islam edited by Paul L ovejoy (Princeton NJ: Markus Wiener Publishers, 2004, paper U S $ 69.95), only two chapters are devoted to the Americas, one by David Trotman on nineteenthcentury Muslims in Trinidad, the other a broad survey by L ovejoy himself. Brothers and Strangers: Black Zion, Black Slavery, 1914-1940 by Ibrahim S undiata (Durham NC: Duke University Press, 2003, paper U S $ 24.95) is an impressive scholarly treatment of modern L iberian history, set firmly within the Atlantic world, that devotes a number of pages to Garveys UNIA and its deci sive role. The fifty or so pages on Garvey are the only substantial Caribbean links in Wilson Jeremiah Mosess Creative Conflict in African American Thought: Frederick Douglass, Alexander Crummell, Booker T. Washington, W.E.B. Du Bois, and Marcus Garvey (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004, paper U S $ 23.99). F inally, George Reid Andrewss Afro-Latin America, 1800-2000 ( O xford: O xford University Press, 2004, paper U S $ 19.95), a lively historical synthesis of the broader region, includes only Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Dominican Republic within its Caribbean purview. S everal books on Cuba: The Cuba Reader: History, Culture, Politics edit e d by Aviva Chomsky, Barry Carr & Pamela Maria S morkaloff (Durham NC: Duke University Press, 2003, paper U S $ 26.95), spans five hundred years of Cuban history (though focusing, appropriately, on the past century or so), presenting poems, paintings, photos, cartoons, and diverse academ i c articles to provide an excellent introduction to the island and its people. Entrevistas cubanas: Historias de una nacin dividida (Jefferson NC: Mc F arland, 2004, paper U S $ 29.95), with text by F elipe Arocena and photos by William Noland, offers a down-to-earth panorama of Cubans at home and in Miami today. Cmo lleg la noche: Memorias by H uber Matos (Barcelona: Tusquets E ditores, 2002, paper 23.08), is a memoir by one of Cubas most famous political prisoners, Castros 1959 brother-in-arms who served a twenty-year sentence and now lives abroad. Cuba Today and Tomorrow: Reinventing Socialism (Gainesville: University Press of F lorida, 2000, paper U S $ 24.95), by Max Azicri, examin e s the creative adjustments made by the Cuban regime duri n g the 1990s to deal with postS oviet realities. The Cuban Way: Capitalism, Communism and Confrontation (West H artford CT: K umarian Press, 1999, paper U S $ 21.95), by economist Ana Julia JatarH ausmann, looks at the same period, focusing more on the impacts of change on real people. Haydee
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005) 96 Santamara edited by Betsy Maclean (Melbourne, Australia: O cean Press, 2003, paper U S $ 11.95), is a series of reminiscences written as homage to this guerrillera arts activist, and first director of the Casa de las Amricas. F inally, the Che Guevara Reader (Melbourne, Australia: O cean Press, 2003, paper U S $ 23.95) is here published in a second, expanded edition, edited by David Deutschmann. Cuban Cinema Classics is a five-volume set (three films per volume), available on DVD or video, featuring a series of classic Cuban documenta ries made by Cubas national film institute (ICAIC) during the revolutionary period. They have been selected, organized into thematic volumes and sub titled in E nglish by Ann Marie S tock, who has also interviewed some of the filmmakers and included these in the series. E ach a little gem and excellent for classroom use, the films are Newsreel 49 For the First Time Dolly Back Now! LBJ Prayer for Marilyn Monroe The Art of Cigars, Aesthetics King of the Jungle Looking for Chano Pozo Omara I Am the Song I Sing: Bola de Nieve and The Hands and the Angel: Emiliano Salvador The Cuban Cinema Classics series is available, for U S $ 99.00 per volume, through
REVIEW AR TICLE S 97 ten, nicely illustrated, and suitable for school and public libraries as well as Caribbeanists anywhere. Three sports histories that illuminate more than sports. In A Nation Imagined: First West Indies Test Team: The 1928 Tour ( K ingston: Ian Randle, 2003, paper U S $ 24.95), H ilary McD Beckles carefully chronicles the long buildup and then every imaginable detail culled from newspapers, photo archives, and oral testimony about the groundbreaking tour of E ngland, as part of the commemoration of seventy-five years of Windies Test matches and their impact on regional solidarity. Historia di baseball di Aruba e prome aanan: Di Bomba pa XIII Serie Mundial di Baseball Amateur by Clyde R. H arms with E fraim Boei Brion & Don Juan Perez ( O ranjestad, Aruba: Clyde R. H arms, paper n.p.), goes from bomba, a kind of local stickball played in the 1930s, to the impact of World War II, through the participation of the Aruban team in the World S eries of Amateur Baseball held in H avana in 1952, with myriad photos, boxscores, and other baseball trivia all in Papiamentu. Cuban Baseball: A Statistical History, 1878-1961 by Jorge S F igueredo (Jefferson NC: Mc F arland, 2003, cloth U S $ 45.00.), written by a Cuban sportswriter who worked both in Cuba and the United S tates, is heav ily illustrated and filled with data team rosters and standings year-by-year, all-time records, you name it. A couple of welcome re-editions: Main Currents in Caribbean Thought: The Historical Evolution of Caribbean Society in its Ideological Aspects, 1492-1900 ( L incoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2004, paper U S $ 22.00), by Gordon K L ewis, reprints (now with a new introduction by Anthony P. Maingot) this classic of Caribbean historiography, originally published by Johns H opkins University Press in 1983, and Montserrat: History of a Caribbean Colony by H oward A. F ergus ( O xford: Macmillan Caribbean, 2004, paper 17.95), is the second edition of this 1994 book (see the favorable review in NWIG 70-3/4 ), significantly revised to take into account, for example, the devastating volcanic eruption of 1995. A pair on Jamaica: Language in Jamaica by Pauline Christie ( K ingston: Arawak, 2003, paper U S $ 15.00), is a brief introduction for general readers to the language situation on the island today. And Bob Marley: The Man and His Music, edited by E leanor Wint & Carolyn Cooper ( K ingston: Arawak, 2003, paper U S $ 20.00), includes selected papers from the 1995 UWI conference, Marleys Music: Reggae, Rastafari, and Jamaican Culture, that marked the fiftieth anniversary of the singers birth. There are more than the usual share of S uriname-related publications. A Mercenarys Tale by K arl Penta ( L ondon: John Blake Publishing, 2002, cloth 15.99), reveals that this British helpmeet of Ronnie Brunswijk didnt much like Maroon cooking (a plate of rice with a piece of foul-smelli n g meat on top in a sauce that tasted like Castrol GTX motor oil) or the large pots containing the severed heads and other body parts of government soldie r s
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005) 98 that were used in the Jungle Commandos voodoo ceremonies, but he does serve up an outsiders sensationalist view of numero u s incidents in the S uriname civil war. Clarence Seedorf: De biografie by sportswriter S imon Zwartkruis (Antwerp: H outekiet, 2003, cloth 15.00), will be of interest to fans of Dutch and S uriname football (socc e r). Tree of Forgetfulness (Boom der vergetelheid, Larbre de loubli, A bon fu frigiti): Memories of the African Diaspora by L aura S amsom Rous & H ans S amsom (Amsterdam: K IT, 2003, paper 29.50), is a coffee-table book with very little text, showi n g photos from Benin, S uriname, and the Netherlands, and suggesting that Dahomey was the source of S urinames Maroons who in the world is this meant for?! Surinam: Switi Sranan by Toon F ey (Amsterdam: K IT, 2003, paper 37.50) is a well-meaning and predictable coffee-table book with a consistently feelgood message but do we need more ordinary photobooks about the coun try? Caribbean Talk: 1000 Proverbs and Sayings from the Afro-Caribbean Diaspora by Julian H .A. Neijhorst (Paramaribo: Julian H .A. Neijhorst, 2003, paper 10.00), is a homespun celebratory miscellany, published on the occa sion of S urinames hosting of Carifesta, drawing on diverse sources and pro viding E nglish translations. Over natuurgenoot e n en onwillige honden: Beeldvorming als instrument voor uitbuiting en onderdrukking in Suriname 1842-1862 by Patricia D. Gomes (Amsterdam: Aksant, 2003, paper 14.50), is a provocative analysis of the battles about slave emancipation, as seen through representations and stere o types, in the Netherlands and S uriname. Susanna du Plessis: Portret van een slavenmee s t e res by H ilde Neus-van der Putten (Amsterdam: K IT, 2003, paper 21.5 0 ), a dds new information to the polemics about this woman which were launched in print by John Gabriel S tedman during her lifetime, and which continue in various publications today; interested readers should see Wim H oogbergens review in Oso 2004, pp. 184-87. F inally, there is Elizabeth Samson, Forbidden Bride by Carolyn Procter ( L as Vegas NV: Joshua Tree, 2004, paper U S $ 17.95), an earnest first novel by a former U. S Peace Corps volunteer in S uriname. Trying to do far too many things at once, this work, set during the height of the Maroon wars, packs in often word for word dozens of eighteenth-century incidents taken from Stedmans Surinam Frontier Society To Slay the Hydra and other wellknown works on the colony (not to mention Cynthia Mc Leods 1993 Elizabeth Samson ). In our view it is tedious and unsuccessful as literature. Trouw aan de blanken: Quassie van Nieuw Timotibo, twist en strijd in de 18de eeuw in Suriname by F rank Dragenstein (Amsterdam: K IT, 2004, paper 12.50), is a welcome little book, published under the auspices of the recent l y established NiNsee (Nationaal Instituut Nederlands S lavernijverleden en E rfenis, National Institute for the H istory and H eritage of Dutch S lavery). It is cast in the mode of a straightforward, narrative history, as if written for a high-school-level readership. Compiling and condensing much of the pre viously published materials on Quassie, surely one of the most fascinating
REVIEW AR TICLE S 99 S urinamers of the eighteenth century (who, among other things, discovered the medicinal properties of the plant later named after him, Quassia amara consistently misspelled in this book), it also adds new bits and pieces from the archives. In our view, the book nevertheless suffers from a bias against oral history and from an old-fashioned, and methodologically suspect search for African equivalents in words and names. Indeed, there is considerable irony in the combination of Dragensteins attempt to write politically correct history and his insistence on calling the S aramaka leader Ayako by a name (Quakoe) that he derives from written documents (and that, to make matters worse, refers to an entirely different person). In other words, Dragensteins disdain for oral history (including details confirmed repeatedly by archival documents) renders his narrative of S aramaka history incomprehensible to the very people that his revisionist ideology should be targetting. Another sign of sloppiness comes up in Dragensteins discussion of the name used for Quassie by S aramakas, K wasimukamba, which RP first reported twenty-five years ago in a long article in the Bijdragen (a reference missing from Dragensteins bibliography). Dragenstein asserts that mukamba (which is in fact a common Central African place and personal name) means whiteman, and gives as his source for this information First-Time, but here he has apparently confused mukamba with kibamba, the word that, as RP reported, S aramaka forest spir its use for whiteman. RPs subsequent fieldwork with S aramakas has been revealing much additional information about Quassie/ K wasimukamba which will, once published, expand in sometimes startling directions the interesting picture Dragenstein attempts to sketch in here. F or the last twenty years, Michiel van K empen has been our most thought ful and prolific critic of S uriname literature. In 2002, he defended his nearly fifteen hundred-page dissertation, which took the story up till 1975. Now he has published an updated, more accessible version, in two volumes, hand somely boxed and richly illustrated, covering the whole history: Een geschie denis van de Surinaamse literatuur, band I: 1596-1957, band II: 1957-2000 (Breda, the Netherlands: De Geus, 2003, cloth 125.00). In more ways than one can count, the book is overwhelming (what erudition!). Including more than 100 pages of bibliography, it is a monument, but also a delightful and engaging read, from oral literature, including dance, theater, and song (Carib, Arawak, Trio, Ndyuka, S aramaka, Creole, H industani, and Javanese) to all forms of written literature since the end of the sixteenth century. The whole of the second volume is devoted to literature since 1957 and, like the earlier volume, includes numerous word portraits of writers. Getting this book out in E nglish would, in one fell swoop, bring S urinamese literature into critical dialogue with other Caribbean (and world) literatures. Are there any imagina tive and courageous Dutch foundations out there? Turning our view to the rest of the Dutch Caribbean empire, Wereldoorlog in de West: Suriname, de Nederlandse Antillen en Aruba, 1940-1945, by
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005) 100 L iesbeth van der H orst (Amsterdam: Verzetsmuseum/ H ilversum: Verloren, 2004, paper 10.00), was written to accompany an exhibition in the Verzetsmuseum, Amsterdam. This illustrated history carefully documents the effects of the war on the Dutch colonies (with striking pictures of American GIs and S uriname meisjes as well as Coca-Cola everywhere) and the roles they played in defending themselves and the motherland. Oog op Aruba Bonaire Curaao: Geschiedenis, cultuur en natuur van de ABC-eilanden text Jeannette van Ditzhuijzen, photography Bertie and Dos Winkel (Rijswijk, the Netherlands: E lmar, 2003, cloth 27.50), is a coffee-table miscellany of forts and other historic buildings, underwater shots of tropical fish and coral, mangroves, birds, animals, and more. Portraits of Bonaire: Paintings and Stories with paintings by H enk Roozendaal and stories by Guus Gerritsen (Gent, Belgium: S noeck-Ducaju & Zoon, 2002, cloth 25.00), is an affection ate bilingual Dutch/ E nglish offering to Bonaire made by two Dutchmen, who independently, in middle age, chose to make their lives there. While we await a full review, we signal the publication of a remarkable critical edition of one of the fundamental texts on Caribbean slavery and mis sions, Christian Georg Andreus O ldendorps Historie der caribischen Inseln Sanct Thomas, Sanct Crux und Sanct Jan, insbesondere der dasigen Neger und der Mission der evangelischen Brder unter denselben (Kommentierte Ausgabe des vollstndigen Manuskriptes aus dem Archiv der Evangelischen Brder-Unitt Herrnhut) edited by Gudrun Meier, Stephan Palmi, Peter S tein & H orst Ulbricht (Berlin: Verlag fr Wissenschaft und Bildung, 20002. Part I, 764 pp. + 38 plates; Part II, published in three separate volumes, 2171 pp.). This monumental project, begun in the 1980s, at last makes O ldendorps original available, with detailed commentaries by specialists in a number of domains. Three on F rench Guiana, all from Ibis Rouge Publications. Marie Polderman has brought forth her enormous (721-page) doctoral thesis defend e d at Toulouse, La Guyane franaise 1676-1763: Mise en place et volution de la socit coloniale, tensions et mtissage (Matoury, F rench Guiana: Ibis before published. La Guyane franaise (1715-1817): Aspects conomiques et sociaux. Contribution ltude des socits esclavagistes dAmrique (Petit Bourg, Guadeloupe: Ibis Rouge, 1999, paper 24.39), by Brazilian polymath Ciro F lamarion Cardoso, has been published in full nearly thirty years after it was written as a doctoral thesis in Paris; this prize-winning, theoretically ambitious book remains the essential source for understanding the econom i c underpinnings of eighteenth-century F rench Guiana. And Migration et sida en Amazonie franaise et brsilienne (Matoury, F rench Guiana: Ibis Rouge, 2004, paper 22.00), by anthropologist and AID S specialist F rdric Bourdier, carefully analyzes the relationship between migration and infection in the northern Amazon, from Belem to Cayenne. Ibis Rouge has also brought out
REVIEW AR TICLE S 101 S andrine Colombos La route des rhums (2002, paper 17.00), with photos by S ophie H ayot, a handy guidebook (historical, touristic) to the nineteen dis tilleries still functioning in Martinique, Guadeloupe (and Marie-Galante), and Guyane, and Martine Couadous Serpent, manicou et ... dorlis: Bestiaire sym bolique martiniquais (2000, paper 13.57), which recounts Martiniquan folk beliefs concerning animals, seen and imagined, that inhabit the islandscape. Three books highlight the often neglected Amerindian side of the Caribbean past and present. The Great Encounter: Native Peoples and European Settlers in the Americas, 1492-1800 by Jayme A. S okolow (Armonk NY: M. E S harpe, 2003, paper U S $ 25.95), is a bland, politically correct history writ ten for a general audience, with nothing new for Caribbeanists. In contrast, Matthew Restalls Seven Myths of the Spanish Conquest ( O xford: O xford University Press, 2003, paper U S $ 14.95) is a largely successful unpacking of encounter and conquest, also intended for a general audience, but written by someone who is actively engaged in university teaching and communicates his revisionism with persuasiveness and verve. In Darkness and Secrecy: The Anthropology of Assault Sorcery and Witchcraft in Amazonia edited by Neil L Whitehead & Robin Wright (Durham NC: Duke University Press, 2004, paper U S $ 22.95), continues and broadens Whiteheads investigations into dark shamanism and assault sorcery among Amerindians in the Guianas, reviewed in NWIG 78(3/4), by covering similar practices in the Brazilian and neighboring lowland areas of S outh America. Its provocative and engaging. S everal miscellaneous works, which we group promiscuously. Bread Made from Yuca: Selected Chronicles of Indo-Antillean Cultivation and Use of Cassava 1526-2002 (New York: Interamericas, 2003, paper n.p.), edited by Jane Gregory Rubin & Ariana Donalds, features photographs and prose by Marisol Villanueva about manioc in Puerto Rico and elsewhere in the region, and, along with excerpts from O viedo and others, constitutes a paean to this tropical American staple and the cultures that grew up around it. The Cycle of Racial Oppression in Guyana by K ean Gibson ( L anham MD: University Press of America, 2003, paper U S $ 23.00) is an essay on the roots of racism in Guyana and its effects on contemporary politics. Bahamian Culture and Factors which Impact Upon It: A Compilation of Two Essays by Donald M. McCartney (Pittsburgh PA: Dorrance, 2004, paper U S $ 9.00), is a slim pair of ruminations by a Bahamian educator on local culture and history. The Costa Rica Reader: History, Culture, Politics edited by S teven Palmer & Ivn Molina (Durham NC: Duke University Press, 2004, paper U S $ 22.95) pro vides an excellent introduction to the country, without slighting the Caribbean coast and its West Indian connections. Writing JFK: Presidential Rhetoric and the Press in the Bay of Pigs Crisis by Thomas W. Benson (College S tation: Texas A&M Press, 2004, paper U S $ 14.95), analyzes presidential image-maki n g (damage/spin control), using the Bay of Pigs invasion as his case study. At the Rainbows Edge: Selected Speeches of Kenny D. Anthony
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 79 no. 1 & 2 (2005) 102 1996-2002 edited by Didaeus Jules & Tennyson S .D. Joseph ( K ingston: Ian Randle, 2004, 25.00), presents nearly four hundred pages, grouped under such rubrics as Domestic Politics, Regional Integration, International Issues, and so forth, by the head of the L abour Party and, since 1997, prime minister of S t. L ucia, offering a wide window on island politics. Caribbean Elegance by Michael Connors with photography by Bruce Buck (New York: H arry N. Abrams, 2002, cloth U S $ 39.95), is a chef-doeuvre of coffee-table imperialist nostalgia, devoted largely to often magnificent wooden furniture. It illustrates, characteristically, chairs that were designed with excessivly long arms so that the weary planters ... boots could be removed by his putting his feet up on them but it is never specified by whom (hint: it wasnt his wife). Two conference proceedings: Governance in the Age of Globalisation: Caribbean Perspectives edited by Denis Benn & K enneth H all ( K ingston: Ian Randle, 2003, cloth $50.00), presents over thirty contributions to a 2002 con ference at UWI-Mona, ranging from a large number by card-carrying political scientists to Carolyn Coopers lively account of representations of governance in Jamaican popular culture. And Land in the Caribbean: Issues of Policy, Administration and Management in the English-Speaking Caribbean edited by Allan N. Williams (Madison: U S AID/ L and Tenure Center, University of Wisconsin-Madison, 2003, paper n.p.), offers the proceedings of a workshop held in Port-ofS pain in 2003 that included representatives from thirteen CARIC O M states (including S uriname). We end with two light books for a general audience by O wen Platt: One Big Fib: The Incredible Story of the Fraudulent First International Bank of Grenada (New York: iUniverse, 2003, paper U S $ 18.95), and The Royal Governor... and the Duchess: The Duke and Duchess of Windsor in the Bahamas, 1940-1945 (New York: iUniverse, 2003, paper U S $ 13.95), the first chronicling how an American con mans evangelical passion combined with a prime ministers greed to create a tangled web of offshore chicanery (an incredible story if even half true), and the second a reprise of royal muck that several other authors have already rather fully raked.RICHA R D PR ICE & SALLY PR ICE Anse Chaudire 97217 Martinique