Signs of freedom

Culture Matters

Dara E Healy

Omo Ajini

Arè dódè

Children of Africa

Exiles have arrived in the strange, wide world

From Guinea’s Other Suns: The African Dynamic in Trinidad Culture by Prof Maureen Warner-Lewis

IN THE post-emancipation period, the former enslaved went about the business of claiming land, setting up homes and rebuilding their lives. The presence of the African is everywhere, if you know where to look. Sadly, the reality is that our society seems to have very carefully minimised their contribution to our cultural mix, so there are little physical signs to acknowledge that they were here or their lasting influences.

For instance, to date, there is no plaque or memorial on the Treasury Building in Port of Spain to acknowledge that this is the site of the reading of the Emancipation Proclamation on August 1, 1834; the home of then Governor Sir George Fitzgerald Hill. History shows that Governor Hill read the proclamation from the balcony, having to deal with shouts of displeasure from the enslaved because they had heard of the plan to force them to work for another four-six years under an “apprenticeship” scheme.

Considering the millions of Africans who were taken from their homes, who perished during the Middle Passage and who later died on plantations in the so-called “New World,” considering all of this, there should at least be some permanent sign of respect for their sacrifice.

To the extreme east of our capital city is a small square not far from the Besson Street Police Station. There is actually a small sign proclaiming the space as Yoruba Village. That is because after 1838, thousands of Africans came as indentured labourers, either directly from the continent, or via Grenada, St Lucia, Guadeloupe and even “England, after being employed there for some years.”

Researchers have established that a large number of Yoruba people, or Yarraba as they were called, predominantly settled in places like La Cour Harpe, “Belmont, East Dry River and the Laventille Hills.” Other peoples such as Igbo, Rada or Congo made their homes in places out of Port of Spain, such as in Febeau, Malik, Princes Town, Tunapuna, Gasparillo and Arouca. In Belmont, the number was so large that it came to be known as “Freetown Valley.” Sobo Village in La Brea is named for the Sobo peoples of Benin.

Yet, there is still little official acknowledgement of this history, and many of our citizens, including those of African descent, are not aware of these linkages.

It is the same for other aspects of our culture that originated or were inspired by African traditions. It is disappointing to me, for example, that we still do not identify as African some of the foods that are now part of our national culinary character.

A couple weeks ago, I watched a locally made food programme where the foods of Indian, Chinese and other origins were highlighted, but pelau was called a “favourite Trini dish.”

Dishes such as stewed chicken, buljol, rice and peas, callaloo, coo-coo, fried bake and accra are all inspired by African forms of cooking. Indeed, from Jamaica to New Orleans and back, wherever Africans were taken it is possible to find versions of the spinach dish, coo-coo or fufu, and rice and peas. Fufu is from a tradition found in Ghana, Nigeria and other countries where they pound yam, cassava or plantain (yes, that’s where pound plantain is from) to have with their stews.

Our love for salt fish can be traced back to when salted cod fish was traditionally distributed to the enslaved as part of their rations. The chicken-foot and pig-foot souse in the Caribbean or fried catfish and gravy from chicken gizzards in the American south – all these were invented to make the best of what they were given to eat by their masters.

We also are not aware that some of the words we say are African in origin. Dwen, kaiso, moko, jiga, popo, bubu, tabanca – our African heritage is all around us.

At one level, we are increasingly demonstrating more obvious signs of freedom, through our natural hairstyles and clothing choices. But for independence of thought and a deeper sense of pride, it is important to seek out information and do justice to all of the peoples that comprise our complex society.

In some ways, it is still a strange, wild world. But the point is, we are here now and we have a responsibility to put up the signs, do the research and properly acknowledge this aspect of our heritage.

Dara Healy is a performance artist and founder of the NGO, the Indigenous Creative Arts Network – ICAN