Our war against history

AN interminable cold war between the Chaguaramas Development Authority (CDA) and the Chaguaramas Military Museum flashed over, resulting in the effective eviction of the occupants – perhaps the final salvo in a long conflict.

The museum, created by the late Lt Cdr Gaylord Kelshall, gathered and protected precious artefacts of our military history (and more), curating these items to tell the story of essential chapters in this country’s evolution and our place in the world.

Even though there were foreshadowings of the CDA’s latest push, to come as it did on Carnival Monday was peculiar, like the Tet Offensive of the Vietnam War. Lost in the fog of conflict is the truth behind this saga. The CDA complained that no rent has been paid for that tenancy over the past four years. Upon what agreement was the rental rate fixed, though?

From their perspective, museum officials say when the Patrick Manning administration prevailed, they were given assurances of a 30-year lease. That lease, they insist, never materialised, notwithstanding earnest efforts to get eyes on it.

The CDA says they’ve been trying to "regularise" the status of the museum and tried unsuccessfully for the past 30 years to get in touch with operators of the facility. That chestnut beggars belief, given that the museum is just down the street from the CDA.

It’s difficult to resist the delicious speculation that the CDA is being seductively tickled by moneyed interests who are salivating over that prime piece of waterfront acreage in the peninsula. A military history museum, or any museum for that matter, is probably deeply anathematic to the futurist vision many have for that part of the country – American-style theme parks and other vapid amusements designed specifically to extract the highest possible value from patrons.

A museum with dusty old artefacts will never be a money-spinner like other investments on that strip. It certainly doesn’t help that the site has a Sanford and Son aesthetic going on.

For those who’ve never been, the Chaguaramas Military Museum is, in my opinion, easily the most fascinating of all attractions in that area. That was certainly true when I produced a TV show on TT’s military history and profiled the museum.

Honestly, I wasn’t expecting much. The thought of wrangling compelling television out of old army surplus uniforms on surplus mannequins wasn’t particularly intriguing. I couldn't have been prepared for their immersive trauma-tainment depicting the trench warfare of World War I and, to a lesser extent, the sequel.

My cameraman and I entered darkened tunnels complete with wooden slats on the ground – the kind used to combat the treacherous mud that was the bane of every soldier’s time on the frontlines.

As we traversed the almost labyrinthine, "earthen" corridors, we were blasted with the soundtrack of mortar fire, bullets zinging past, aircraft flying overhead and radio communications. Built into the tunnel network was a radio outpost manned by uniformed mannequins. The attention to detail poured into that visitor experience was incalculable.

During my tour of the facility I also discovered there was a personal connection between the museum and myself. Many years earlier, as a young reporter, my cameraman Bissondath Rampersad and I responded to a report of a highly improbable story. A World War II-era torpedo had supposedly washed up on the south coast in the vicinity of Moruga (if memory serves).

We walked for nearly 30 minutes along a craggy coastline, mostly up to our knees in water, to find this rumour; I lost an exquisite pair of leather brogues to that adventure. And just around a corner, we spotted it! I couldn’t even believe it was real. Suddenly, two soldiers sprouted out of the bush on an overlooking bluff, laughed and said, “Hard luck dey fellas!” Those bastards.

The torpedo was massive but too far away to get good footage of it. I was reunited with my quarry all those years later at the museum; there it was – a U-boat torpedo nearly 20 feet long!

It shouldn’t need to be said, but a lease ought to have been provided to the museum at a peppercorn rate. The educational value of the artefacts is too great to be sublimated into commercial considerations. Champions of the museum need to market their attractions more aggressively; there’s no point fighting to conserve a treasure no one knows about.

The CDA’s war with our history is a reflection of our true nature: we neither value our past nor do we contemplate the future. We "nourish" our intellects on mere moments.