Deported to Paradise - Montserrat

Deported to Paradise - Montserrat
Author

Edgar Nkosi White

Release Date

Monday, April 14, 2014

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Safe to say that Montserrat is a very peculiar place, as full of contradictions and paradoxes as a pomegranate has seeds. Chief among these is our love/hate relationship both with Britain and with ourselves. As a result of this conflict we never quite know whether to call ourselves a British colony or not. Our response seems to depend on time of day and circumstance when asked. On one hand we like to be independent and on the other we like to be secure.

In life it’s difficult at best to be both independent and secure never mind when there’s the threat of a volcano looming above your head. We resent having to take instruction or reprimand from authority figures and will quickly challenge the rule of law. We resent the exploitative nature of a colonial past and find no romance in sea-island cotton or lime. History has left us with a deep distrust of Rule Britannia and what it really means.

While we may love to sue government and are often called confrontational, litigation seeking and always in opposition, we, at the same time, desire all the pomp and ceremony of Britain and would hate to ever really have to abandon it. So you see how this duality causes a certain paradox and strangeness of thought which is often described as Montserratian.

There is also a peculiar shortness of memory which allows us to deny the fact that a mere two generations ago we were all bound to the estate system. This convenient ability to forget is part of our inheritance and allows us to delude ourselves with class consciousness and hypocrisy, a very useful gift to have.

Next, although we profess a love of Africa and our native ancestry, I think you would be hard put to find many Montserratians who would willingly call themselves African. Now Irish, that’s quite something else. Many would more quickly claim Irish ancestry by virtue of the prevalence of Irish last names on the island than any other. The fact that so many of the parishes bear the name of the estate plantation owners is evidence of a massive Irish presence on island. This incidence of history is not rejected; it is—if anything—embraced, celebrated and long lasting. Now as to whether or not the Irish were any less brutal in their approach to slavery is not so very clear. All evidence points to the contrary. The Irish for the most part were reluctant to think of Montserrat as home. It was a means of amassing wealth enough to eventually return to their true home (i.e. Ireland) as transformed lords of the manor.

They too wanted to be known as titled and honourable, wealthy enough perhaps to be finally free of the British. It was poverty after all which had brought the Irish to Montserrat in the first place: indenture and servitude and flight from oppression. So the Irish entered Montserrat as either property or deportees. Some were able to move from worker to overseer and eventually to land owner. It would be nice to believe that this upward mobility was achieved gently but in point–of–fact, the lower the origin the more desperate the desire. The Irish therefore didn’t have the time to be either gentle or casual in their approach. They worked the slaves doubly hard in the hopes of eventually becoming absentee landlords like the English before them.

All of this becomes quite interesting at present, for Montserrat is the only island which embraces the title, the Emerald Isle of the Caribbean. There is a weeklong festival on island called Saint Patrick’s. Not even Ireland does this much commemoration. Still more interesting is the fact that recently Montserrat has added the component of an African music festival as part of the week of celebration. Through this synthesis of Africa and Ireland, one can witness history. It is a very curious thing to watch the Irish, who hitherto were totally unaware of this strange island or the peculiar aspect of their own history. The belief was that the Irish were far too busy being oppressed and staving off hunger by means of the potato to ever have time to oppress others. To learn otherwise is a revelation to them and one which they are quite keen to comprehend.

From the Montserrat standpoint there is much to learn from the aspect of music. There is a healing aspect to music and the fact that what can be denied in the written word cannot be in the much more visceral dynamism of music and dance.

No matter the self-loathing which comes from colonialism, we can’t help but feel the pulse or deny the heartbeat of the music. I think this is the reason for the current success of African Gospel music in the Caribbean. All of these various forces coming together at the same time are producing an amazing synergy. The Africans who come to perform at the Montserrat Festival are also shocked by the similarities. There is for example a direct relationship between the Kora (the stringed harp of Senegal and Gambia) and the banjo and Ukulele of Montserrat String Band Music. Then there are the Masquerade dancers in costumes which are so undeniably African: the movements which interpret life and death; spirits of ancestors which are as always watching and witnessing us.

How did the first Africans originally arrive on island? Through the process of slavery. Slavery itself was a form of deportation. We were shipped away for either financial gain or to solve familial disputes. Slavery as such could not be achieved in the new world without the tacit agreement of the old. In other words, we weren’t merely taken, we were given. Deportation from your homeland can be very cruel.

The autobiography of Equiano, the slave, can attest to that. But what of deportation back to your homeland, what is that process like? There are those, who as a result of encounters with the prison system abroad, get deported back to Montserrat. What does that feel like without benefit of family, funds or raiment?

The fact is that if you return to Montserrat and are male and if you remain too long to be a tourist, you are immediately perceived as a deportee until proven otherwise. You are tried, scorned and convicted in the eyes of others until a history and a name is attached to you: “Is who he be?” You will be judged and rejected unless verified a celebrity on radio or some form of the media. We each of us seek uniqueness in our captivity, some aspect which singles us out, defines us and sets us apart from others. I suspect that is why we as a people are so eager to attach ourselves to an Irish connection. There is after all nothing unique about having an English master but an Irish master is quite another matter.

If I were asked to design a new flag for Montserrat though, instead of the pale Celtic woman with the harp which we now have, I’d have a sugar mill. Our mills are built to withstand anything, hurricanes and even volcanoes due to its design and the eggs and lime in the mortar. As an icon, the sugar mill more fittingly represents us as a people, built for struggle. The sugar mill and the donkey are our legacy.

Yes, it’s a curious thing to find yourself deported to Paradise. But we’ve made an art of it and a history.

Note: Edgar Nkosi White is a playwright, poet and novelist. He was born on the island of Montserrat in the Caribbean.

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