Day of Absence 2010: First Response - Clarity

The critique(s) offered by Ward Minnis about the Day of Absence concept on his blog, Mental Slavery, and on Bahama Pundit, are both comprehensive and impressive. And he's right, in several places. Particularly when he writes

Her Day of Absence clouds over and conflates many different and unrelated ideas while advancing an awkward historical agenda and a cumbersome theory of cultural development. It is political and apolitical, about something and about nothing, clear and blurry, all at the same time.

he's got a point.So I figure that if I'm going to begin to answer him, I'd better make my assumptions clear. I'm not so convinced that the ideas that Day of Absence floats are either "different and unrelated" or entirely deserving of the adjectives "awkward" and "cumbersome", but that could just be me. What I will admit is that the way in which the concept was presented mashes together all sorts of concepts in what could be read as an unholy mess; and so the first part of the response will attempt to address this issue and to clear a couple of ideas up.So let's start with premises. Here are my assumptions.

1. Culture is separate from neither history nor politics. It is not a discrete, bounded entity that we can neatly stow in anything at all. An anthropological definition (there are many) might suggest that culture is what occurs when specific groups of people respond to the environment in which they find themselves, and that that environment is geographical and historical. Culture helps shape and respond to identity. It occurs both subconsciously and consciously, and it is elastic and malleable. Central to culture is change, and that change happens whether we try to make it happen or not. When a group of people ignores its culture (in the anthropological sense) culture change will occur without direction and without purpose. I believe that The Bahamas, by ignoring artists (whose main function in society, if we want to be really crass, is to make manifest the subconscious elements of collective cultures), has consigned itself to having its culture change on it without realizing, comprehending, or affecting that change.
2. Bahamian culture is not a discrete or bounded entity. It never was; the idea of bounded cultures is a myth of convenience that served numerous political agendas in the past. But in the twenty-first century, its boundaries have dissolved almost altogether. Every culture's have. All cultures are melting into one global culture, one real-time, international, digital cloud. It is not possible to separate our daily consumption of culture (in most cases, other people's) from our infrequent production of it. Ward is completely correct when he says

The reality is that most, if not all, of the images and products that filter our way from the great foreign cultural creators, such as the United States, have been produced by professionals who have already been compensated.

That has always been my point. However, that reality does not stop us from continuing to compensate those professionals by paying for their creations. Ward misses the point when he assumes that I am drawing some artificial line between Bahamian (which he takes the trouble to underline) artists and other professional artists. I can't. I could only do so if we all stopped consuming international cultural products. Consumption and production are two sides of the same coin, and no amount protectionism, favouritism, or nationalism will affect them. It's Ward's decision to talk about Bahamian artists, not mine. But more on that later.

3. I don't call from an abstention from all art not because I believe Bahamian artists are absent (absence is not the same thing as invisibility, which is what led me to Douglas Turner Ward's play in the first place), but because I believe that it is important for us all to reflect on the centrality of culture and cultural production to our lives -- and then to ask where we are in the equation. Culture is a global entity. Our consumption of it crosses borders without thought most of the time. But where we are lacking is in presence not merely in the local environment, but (perhaps more importantly) in the global one. Who are we? The answer is far far more than the name of our favourite Junkanoo group; but do we know?

These are the premises from which the idea of Day of Absence was born. They don't have to be agreeable to everybody; but I articulate them so that they can be understood. If they are still "cumbersome" and "awkward", so be it; they are where I stand.

Day of Absence 2010: Introduction

Well, it's that time again.

What time? you may ask. Because it's not like this is a regular occurrence, a public holiday so to speak, or anything grand or exciting. But the new year is a-coming in, and February is nearing, and it's time for me to observe the Day of Absence once again.

Now for those of you who weren't around, who didn't get the memo, or who really weren't aware, the Day of Absence I'm talking about is a day set aside for us to remember and recognize the work of artists and cultural workers everywhere. Of course, I'm a Bahamian, and I live in The Bahamas, so it's a day to remember and recognize Bahamian artists and cultural workers, who go largely unsung, unnoticed and unremembered, and who are generally assumed not to exist in this nation. But it's not exclusively for Bahamians. It's for anyone who has ever taken art, the artistic and creative impulse, for granted.

The date is February 11. It's my date, and I chose it. Last year this time, when I announced the concept, I did so in a political fashion, and, borrowing the idea from Douglas Turner Ward's play of the same name, asked people to imagine a world without art, without artists.

And damn, the idea worked. It caught on far more broadly than expected. It seemed to spark something in people's imaginations, and especially in Bahamians' imaginations. It was accompanied by some buy-in from radio stations (one or two had a minute of silence at a specific point of the day in honour of the idea, and many had artists on to talk about their (our) place in the world). It seemed to begin conversations, some of which are continuing to this day, and transforming themselves into action. And it inspired a protest, a physical demonstration, that took place on COB's campus.

And it is still working, apparently, because it's generating some pretty solid critique. Over on Mental Slavery and on Bahama Pundit, Ward Minnis has taken apart the idea pretty thoroughly. In a nutshell the core of the critique is that (a) the concept is ill-founded and muddled, and the theory on which it rests is unsound; (b) Bahamian artists don't need more absence, they need presence; (c) it isn't the government's job to give artists their place in society--artists have to earn that place for themselves; (d) developing culture for the tourists is a bad goal to have; and (e) the choice of the date is unjustified and just plain wrong, gives undeserved honour and recognition to my father, and is an exercise in nepotism more than anything else.

Well. Dem's fightin' words, specially the last set. But I'm not going to engage them just now. Instead, I'm going to use the period between now and January 12th to respond to these areas in some measure (though not necessarily at length, because, well, the critique itself is evidence that Day of Absence 2009 did something of its job).

And in the meantime, consider yourselves invited. Ward and I are going to be sitting down in a public forum on January 12th at the National Art Gallery of The Bahamas to discuss these ideas.

Though I'm not really sure what all I'm going to have to say, other than thanks to Ward for starting this year's discussion and spreading the idea of the Day of Absence further than it went last year.

Cheers. If you buy Ward's argument, no need to read any further. But if, like me, you don't, or if you're keeping an open mind, check back here over the next fortnight or so to read my responses to his three main points.

And consider the work and contribution of artists to the world. If you're Bahamian, go on and bring it home. Make a point of researching what Bahamian artists have done (there is a record, believe it or not, a thin trail that can be followed, if you're willing to put in the effort). Don't add deposits to our national bank of ignorance by making sweeping generalizations about who we are(n't) and what we're (not) doing. On February 11 (if you aren't offended by the fact that it's E. Clement Bethel's birthday) or on some other day (if you are) make it a point to learn something you didn't know about art, artists and culture in general, or about The Bahamas in particular.

As for me and my house, we'll be observing the Day on the 11th. 42 days and counting.

There Gatta Be A Better Way

First things first. This post is being was written in the knowledge that it might never get posted, simply because it's going to be critical and in contravention of my terms of employment -- in other words, flying in the face of General Orders. So if you're seeing it, (a) I'm no longer a government employee; (b) I no longer care what the consequence is; or (c) I'm dead. Or all of the above.But I'm writing it because it needs to be said.I've been was a civil servant for five years. The specific position I hold is held was part of the problem, but it's not all of it. The political persuasion I hold held, real or perceived, is was also part of the problem, but not all of it. The fundamental problem was that the system of government that is responsible for the development, promotion, sustaining and honouring of Bahamian culture is, quite simply (and I say this, borrowing unashamedly from other people's military and begging forgiveness for all those who are offended or outraged by "Language"), FUBAR.Here's how it works, or doesn't.Everything worth doing requires money. This is especially true for culture, which, in spite of popular misconceptions about it, is in many ways a business that has been around for centuries. And as with anything else, in the cultural field, you tend to get what you pay for. That's not always true, of course — a Brent Malone painting during his lifetime was far more reasonable a purchase than a Chan Pratt painting during his, but that was due far more to the philosophy and sensibility and target audience of the specific artists than much else, and the two prices may adjust themselves now that both painters have sadly passed on. But in most cases, it is true.The thing is, The Bahamas Government doesn't appear to see it that way. This is a problem that seems to be at the root of every decision made by every decision-making agency in the country. The main question at hand has nothing to do with seeking value for money; rather, the average civil servant aims to spend as little money as possible in one go, even if that means that what is purchased with that money is so low in quality that you have to buy it again and again and again.Now I know that this isn't unique to our government, that many governments suffer from the same malaise. That doesn't make it any better. And when it comes to culture, it grows even more difficult.Because, you see, culture isn't something that (a) most Bahamians seem to believe can/should be paid for and (b) most civil servants know very much about. (Let me stop right here to say that point (a) only applies to local culture; most Bahamians are avid consumers of global culture, and in fact we often spend far more than we need to on designer thisses and thats, on going to see foreign performers and shows, no matter how mediocre, on films we import, on cable stations that feature the cultural products of abroad. What we will not spend our money on is our own people and their cultural productions -- at least not unless/until foreigners spend their money on them first, as with Amos Ferguson. But I digress.)Most civil servants, in fact, labour under the impression that cultural production is some sort of fancy hobby, something that anybody can do, and worse, that people enjoy doing, and so they resist the idea of paying for it in any way, shape or form. Accountants are particularly prone to this misapprehension, but they're not alone; senior civil servants and politicians also hold it (except, in the case of politicians, when it comes to Junkanoo, and in most cases that exception is made because (a) they believe that only what is popular is good or (b) they need the votes).It makes for difficult times if you're the Director of Cultural Affairs for the government.I have spent my time as Director apologizing for my government, especially to professionals who, if they were in any other field, would be given red carpet treatment because of their stature. The same people who kowtow to ministers because they have blue licence plates, official cars, and drivers scoff at the demands of people -- professional people, mind you, with training or experience or a lifetime of performance under their belts, or all three -- to be paid what they are worth in the cultural field. These are the same people who think nothing of paying thousands of dollars for refreshments or decorations or the sound systems or seating for an event (accountants are not included in the above; most accountants of my acquaintance query all expenditure -- it's their job). But when it comes to the live entertainment, forget it.This is usually how the conversation goes.Government: We need a cultural show for [insert event of choice: visiting dignitaries, international conference, national celebration, CARIFESTA]Me: All right. I'll send you a budget. I'll let you know what it costs so you can build it into your expenditure.Government: ... A budget?Me (if it's a good day): Yes. Cultural shows cost money. (If it's a bad day, I'm not responsible for my reply)Government: We thought your department would pay for it.Me (after laughing hysterically and making a close acquaintance with the floor): You're kidding, right? My department doesn't even have a permanent home, you're thinking we have funding to pay for every event that comes across your desk? The Director of Culture may be the only director in the entire government system that doesn't get a courtesy car along with the office, and you think we have the funding to cover the cost of your show? No, I'll send you the breakdown and you add it to your Cabinet Paper. (I'm thinking: you're going to pay for everything else, from the sound system to the conference facilities, from the catering to the little folders and the goodies you're going to be handing out to the people attending, but you want me to provide the entertainment for you for FREE?)Government (doubtfully): Okay, send it, we'll take a look at it.(Time passes. Then we get one of the following communications.)A)Government: Okay, we've gone over your budget, and it's fine. Except for one thing. Do the performers have to cost so much? Can't you get people to perform for less? (Translation: can't we get somebody to perform for free?)B)Government: Okay, we've gone over your budget. We think we're going to go with the Police Force Band/the Defence Force Band/one of the above's Pop Band (Translation: we don't want to spend taxpayers' money on anybody who isn't already making a salary and has a pension coming after they retire, so we'll get in-house talent)C)Government: We've decided we don't need a cultural show after all. (Translation: we wouldn't pay a working artist a fair price if it killed us.)This notwithstanding the fact that if you invest in cultural performance, and if the performance is high-quality, and if you make people feel good or different or better or bigger (which cultural performance aims to do), you get a tangible return. People pay for that kind of experience, and they pay big. If they didn't, there wouldn't be a Hollywood film industry, there wouldn't be a Broadway in New York, and there most certainly wouldn't be Las Vegas, whose reputation is not all built on casinos and gaming tables. People are always looking for a different experience, something unique, something you can't get anywhere else, and the better and more unique and more different it is, the more they'll pay. It's called show business for a reason, folks, and it runs by a tried-true formula that works.And The Bahamas is so very rich in culture that we could all be benefitting from it.But we're not.  Part of the problem is what I've just described above.  There's a fundamental lack of respect for what we creative people do across every sector of our Bahamaland, and we are dissed on so regular a basis that I'm surprised that we stay here. The disrespect that is shown to Bahamian artists and cultural workers is played out in any number of ways, from the politicians' laughing about us in the House of Assembly, to the civil servants' disparaging remarks about artists and singers and shows, to the businessmen's opinion that what we do is a waste of good capital, to the average churchgoers' dismissal of the artistic lifestyle (if the artist doesn't happen to be part of the church membership of course, and providing entertainment aka praise and worship for the church itself), to the salaries not paid and the budgets not awarded and the promotions not given to those people who bust their behinds for the culture of the country day in, day out, with no questions asked and no rewards requested.They say what goes around comes around in the end.  They say, too, that time is longer than rope. And the fact that we're now in the twenty-first century in the middle of a global creative revolution suggests that the typical Bahamian attitude to artists, art, and creativity is heading us all for a big, hard crash.There gatta be a better way.  Arts and culture make good business.  There gatta be space in this nation, in this society, for artists, for creativity; after all, the way of the world now depends on innovation, uniqueness, difference. There gatta be investment in new ways of seeing, fresh ideas. There gatta be room for critical commentary and flights of fancy in this Bahamaland of ours. There gatta be room for creative people to make a living being creative. We will not always be able to make money by transplanting other people's bright ideas. Our business, our main industries, our economy all depend on our best creative minds. And so, politicitians, businessmen, accountants, civil servants, churchpeople, Bahamians, consider rethinking your prejudices and resistances to the culture within us. It's yours too, you know. We artists just help you see it.And who knows? You might just love it as much as all the other people's culture you've already paid top dollar for.

Announcing tongues of the ocean

 tongues of the ocean is an online literary journal of Bahamian, Caribbean and related poetry. We’re an affiliate of the Bahamas International Literary Festival, but BILF isn’t responsible for what we decide to do (so don’t blame them!). We publish three times a year - in February, June, and October. We reserve the right to be picky about what we publish. For now we’re focussing on poems and poem-related material, but that could change. Interested in submitting? Read here for more details.Here’s some of the stuff we’ll be including in tongues:writers on writers - writers talk about the work of another writer. Like a review, only hotter. Bahamians & residents only, to begin with, but we’ll get friendlier as we go on. We’d like to start with a focus on Bahamian and Caribbean greats.bredren and sistren - section for Caribbean and Southern US writers, for West Africans - for our siblings and cousins in the diaspora, and for our spiritual kin around the world. We reserve the right.catch a fire - in every issue we’ll include a section inspired by word prompts, which we’ll post with the call for submissions.  For now, this is the only place we’ll accept fiction, and only flash fiction (for our purposes, fiction under 300 words). Prose poems are welcome. Transgress boundaries. Push.Editor-in-chief: Nicolette BethelSpoken Word: Nadine Thomas-Brown(Blurb taken from the "about us" page of the journal. Logo photograph by Eric Rose.)

Walcott warns; others walk

Walcott warns : Stabroek NewsRight, well I've been hinting at it for some time now on this blog, but now I think it's time to come out and say it straight.  I've turned in my resignation as Director of Culture for the Bahamas Government.  I had originally intended to leave at the end of this month, as of August 31st, but a series of situations have pushed the actual date back till the end of this calendar year, and turned the resignation into a requested transfer back to the College of The Bahamas.  Courage!People who have heard sometimes ask me why.  (People who know me and have known the tribulations of working as a cultural professional within The Bahamas government don't ask why; they ask when.)Derek Walcott, Caribbean Nobel Laureate for Literature, gives a very good reason why in his speech at the opening of the CARIFESTA Symposia.  Here's what he says:

Nobel Laureate Derek Walcott yesterday implored the region’s governments to resist prostituting themselves to foreign investors, warning that giving into tourism-fuelled gentrification would spell disaster.“The prostitution is a thing we call development,” he said in stinging remarks delivered during an impromptu presentation at the grand opening of the CARIFESTA X Symposia, at the National Convention Centre. He warned: “Don’t let this continue, [because] something serious is going to happen.”

and:

 “It is terrifying, all around there are huge hotels we are going to leave as monuments,” he said, with obvious disgust. “We are not leaving museums or theatres, because the governments say they can’t afford it.”

and:

Walcott took the view that investors should also be encouraged to put money into the development of cultural infrastructure, like museums and theatres. He also challenged regional governments to be more supportive of artists, saying that younger people needed to have access to more scholarships.Walcott, who had once famously  called for the scrapping of the festival, was featured as the Distinguished Guest at the symposium. Nonetheless, he admitted that he still harboured serious reservations about the fate of artists afterward. Indeed, he blamed the regional governments and institutions for keeping artists in what he described as a state of deprivation. “Is this what we are celebrating?” he asked. “You are killing your artists.”

and:

Walcott challenged regional leaders to pursue development of the arts simultaneously. Though he was not optimistic that the idea would be realized, he said it was important for them to adopt a change in attitude. He said there be should be no question of competing needs; that governments should do both.***He also suggested yesterday that the governments consider putting a moratorium on the festival in order to ensure that it is professionally organized and that it features the best people that the region can offer. “You need the best,” he said, before quickly adding, “But it is self deception, because what happens afterwards? What are their futures?"

There you have it.  My dilemma in a nutshell.  On the one hand, there are the people who tell you that the country needs you, that we have come a long way, that we are on the move and things are gonna get easier.  "Why now?" they ask.  The answer is simple, and Walcott has stated it plainly.  Caribbean governments do not invest in their people. Caribbean people do not see any real reflections of themselves.On the other hand -- and this is the reality, while the other is simply the spin -- the bare naked truth is that The Government of The Bahamas (gold, red or green, the party in charge doesn't matter) is no different from the governments of all our neighbours when it comes to cultural investment.  The Nobel Laureate has stated the truth, and there is no getting around it.  The President of Guyana has stated the excuse, and there is no getting around that either.  To remain in the post legitimizes the active underdevelopment of our people that all of our governments have made the central policy of their administrations.  To remain in the post restricts the criticisms that I can make; and to remain in the post compromises, whether we like to admit it or not, the attainment of excellence in all that we do.

Dissent, Power, and Politics

Well, from Jamaica, this is interesting:

PM Golding has invoked the Staff Orders rule that says governmental officials must keep their traps shut when their individual positions conflict with existing gov’t policy. Not an atypical move for him to make. But, it really does and should sweet us when we see cracks in the veneer of retrograde, unsubstantiated policies, that come in the form of truth-telling, even if the labba-mouth will probably lose their jobs.

Gagging Dissent « LONG BENCH

Especially given the exchange that's been occurring on Rick Lowe's BlogBahamas and Larry Smith's Bahama Pundit about the responsibility of civil servants to speak out about the wrongs and the cracks in the society.

Here's the source of Long Bench's commentary.

President of the Jamaica Civil Service Association, Wayne Jones, said the Government's Staff Orders outline a mode of behaviour for public officers, as it relates to their interaction with the public.

Jones told The Gleaner yesterday that Section 4.4 of the order points to how government material or documents should be shared with the media through the permanent secretary, head of department or designated spokespersons.Jones said Harvey would not be able to express a personal view, particularly on topical issues, without the media and other persons in society construing it to be government thinking.He acknowledged that public officials would be faced with situations where they might be asked to express a professional or personal view on a matter.

Come on, people of the Caribbean.  Do or do we not live in democracies? What is the responsibility of those of us employed in governments to our nation?  What is gained by the kinds of restrictions applied to civil servants that are outlined in the documents we inherited from the Brits (who remain subjects, and not citizens, in their own land, by the way)?  Weren't they written when only a small number of people worked for government, and when our lands were colonies anyway and when freedom of speech was not something anyone had at all?  Why are they still being invoked today, when our governments are major (in The Bahamas' case, the largest) employers?  Does this not seem to be at odds with the idea of a democracy?

Nevertheless.  General Orders stands.  Our Rules of Conduct may be found here.  Go read for yourself.

The Bahamian War on Trees

What is it about us and trees?My husband and I got a phone call the other night from the branch leader of our neighbourhood watch.  I thought it was going to be a message about security, about safety, you know, the things that neighbourhood watches are all about.But no.It appears that our neighbours, the people who live next door to us, sort of, have a problem with the fact that one of our trees overhangs their garden, and they want us to cut off the branches that do so.This happened after they butchered one of the trees in their back garden.  Someone has been up in it for the past two days with a cutlass, chopping branch after branch after branch.What I find most peculiar about this is that until they did that, their back garden was one of the most beautiful in the neighbourhood.  It was full of fruit trees -- citrus and mango and pear -- and my husband and I have always thought that if they don't want the land, we might want to buy it.It would appear, though, that beauty -- and oxygen and serenity and shade -- are not a premium in our city any more.  I haven't quite worked out what is.  After all, this is the neighbourhood where the desire of a single man, a businessman with a plan for a corner (and, it would appear, for the entire neighbourhood) involved the razing of his land and the erection of a warehouse.And we wonder why our young people are angry?  I'm not young, and I'm angry.  Push me enough and I might explode.It's time we stopped, took a look at ourselves, recognized greed and selfishness while we still can, and thought about living differently.  Not one of us is innocent.  We all have blood on our hands.Sap, anyway.

Can You See Us? (Video)

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9S_wHMrWemw&hl=en&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1]

Can You See Us?

Thanks to Erica James at the National Art Gallery of The Bahamas, I was led to seek out this series on the statelessness of children of Haitian parentage growing up in The Bahamas.  You'll find it on YouTube.  I don't know who made the movies, but every Bahamian should watch them -- especially those Bahamians who view their society through the lenses of "Us" and "Them".

Can You See Us? Part I

Can You See Us? Part II

Can You See Us? Part III

I'll embed the videos later.

Edit: The video was made by the Bahamas Human Rights Network. Kudos.

Terror at Millar's Creek Fundraiser

I received the email below while I was away in Guyana, attending a regional cultural meeting and hearing about Guyana's difficulties with crime and civil liberties. As I read it, I found myself thinking Why am I worrying about Guyana? We have problems with civil liberties right here.And we don't talk about them.The email is in fact a press release put out by the environmental community group Millar's Creek Preservation Group, which had the fundraiser they were holding at the Millar's Creek community park raided by police, who proceeded to terrorize the patrons at the fundraiser and the organizers for several hours during the night.I'm not at all sure what the impetus for the raid was. There was an element of xenophobia in it, certainly. Worse, it was a xenophobia which was desperately misdirected. Perhaps not worse. As Lynn Sweeting writes,

Even if that event was packed to the rafters with illegals, a lawful, decent, humane immigration and police operation CANNOT BEGIN WITH MASKED GUNMAN FIRING SHOTS.

And:

We are all in trouble when we cannot any longer tell the difference between the criminals and the police. The party-goers at the Millar’s Creek fundraiser know the horror of this first hand. All of them, Mr. McKenzie told me, are deeply traumatized, especially those legal and documented persons who were still locked up at the time of this conversation. Mr. McKenzie is asking: Who is responsible for the terror and trauma caused to these innocent people?

Here are a couple of excerpts from the press release.  The entire release is below the fold.

Thinking a robbery was taking place I, along with everyone else darted for cover. Some people headed across the creek where we were confronted by several men in masks who pointed guns at us and told us to get down. At this stage I was petrified and feared for my life. When one of the masked men proceeded to place hand-cuffs on me- I realized that these individuals might be law enforcement officers. The men started to drag me and others through the mangroves towards the dirt road on the other side of the creek. I started to ask for some identification and questioned the officers as to why the park was being invaded. I was told by one of the masked men to shut the F---- up or risk getting shot in my head. I immediately complied as these men did not display badge numbers or any other identifying signs.

And

After all the officers had left the scene I began to take an assessment of the past night’s operation. I found out that some of my workers who had work permits had been taken to the detention centre. The persons who were responsible for collecting money at the gate stated that the envelope containing the money was taken by officers. The person who was operating the bar explained that when he was told to lie down, a junior officer attempted to take about two-thousand dollars from his pocket. A senior officer instructed the officer to put the money back without any warnings or disciplinary action levied against this officer. Several cell phones had been tossed into the creek. Someone had his passport torn. Some patrons had been walked on and gun butted by unidentified officers. The most amazing thing I found out that some of the officers had consumed most of the food and drinks that were on sale at this event.

More below.Millar’s Creek Preservation GroupP.O. Box CB-12254Nassau, BahamasPh: (242) 362-1366 / (242) 454-8411PRESS RELEASEEmail: info@millarscreek.comThe Millar’s Creek Preservation Group is a registered non-profit NPO that is overseen by residents of Golden Isles and friends of our natural environment. The group’s mission is to clean and restore Millar’s Creek and oversee the daily operations of Millar’s Creek Recreation Park which is located off Bacardi Road.The Banana Tree Café is located on Millar’s Creek and is operated by our members and is sometimes used as an entity to generate funds for our project and as a welcome centre for our guests. This club has the following licenses to operate; Proprietary Club, General Liquor License, Restaurant License and a Music and Dance License.On Saturday 19 April 2008 we contracted the band “All Stars” to perform at a fund raising event which attracted almost 300 patrons. We charged $10 at the gate for gentlemen and $5 for ladies. As a security measure we secured the services of three security personnel, one stationed at the gate to search guests as they entered the park and two others to patrol throughout the performance.The event started at 9:30 p.m and proceeded without incident until shortly before midnight when our function was disrupted by gunshots coming from the gate area. Thinking a robbery was taking place I, along with everyone else darted for cover. Some people headed across the creek where we were confronted by several men in masks who pointed guns at us and told us to get down. At this stage I was petrified and feared for my life. When one of the masked men proceeded to place hand-cuffs on me- I realized that these individuals might be law enforcement officers. The men started to drag me and others through the mangroves towards the dirt road on the other side of the creek. I started to ask for some identification and questioned the officers as to why the park was being invaded. I was told by one of the masked men to shut the F---- up or risk getting shot in my head. I immediately complied as these men did not display badge numbers or any other identifying signs.On the other side of the creek I was taken to an area where there were about 50 uniformed men and women in dark clothing, some of whom were unmasked. None of the individuals wore a visible identification number. A man, who I presumed was the person in charge, started to do a role call with all the other uniformed individuals. A middle aged Haitian national was also taken to this area at the same time. We were both terrorized and asked our names and nationality. I identified myself and advised the gentleman who gave orders that I was one of persons in charge of organizing the event. I again questioned why the park was being targeted. He cautioned me to shut up and answer the questions, and once again I complied. The officer seemed fixed on pressing me to see if I was Haitian or Bahamian. The other gentleman was also being questioned about his nationality. I saw his state of shock as he tried to respond to questions fired at him from several of the uniformed men. After finding out the individual was a Haitian national, one of the masked men proceeded to point a gun at this individual and threatened that if he did not have “papers” he was gonna “Muori” which means die in Creole. The person who seemed to be in charge, then started to ask me what kind of illegal operation I was running. I responded that our organization was legitimate and that this event was our first big fund raiser for the year as we had just fully completed our café and welcome centre. A lady in uniform interrupted that if our business was legal why where we catering to “these kind a people” I assume she meant Haitians. I told her that our group does not discriminate against any individuals and that we were aware that many Bahamians and Haitians would be attracted to a popular band such as the band we had hired. She then asked “ how y’all could let in illegals to y’all club then?.When I asked the masked men who held me if it was necessary for the handcuffs to be so tight, he told me to shut up and started to rough me up some more, pointing a gun at my head. A younger officer who was not masked came to me and asked me if I remembered him. I told him that I did not. He asked me if I used to be a teacher I replied yes. He then started to rough me up and ask me why I had lied about my name. I told him that I had my driver’s license in my pocket that could identify me. The Haitian man and I were told to sit down. I became even more fearful for my safety when I heard the uniformed men started to whisper to each other. The commanding officer started to use scare tactics by asking one of the guys if he had more rounds in his gun. I thought for sure I was going face an ‘accidental’ death so that I could not be a witness to this whole catastrophe.About 20 minutes later the men started to escort me and the others from the area on to Bacardi Road This is when I became aware that this was a major operation, with more officers I had ever seen in one area representing the Royal Bahamas Defence Force, the Royal Bahamas Police Force and the Immigration Department. I asked to see the commanding officer of the entire operation and was again told to shut up. The individual who escorted me squeezed the hand-cuffs so that by now they were cutting into my skin. We were then taken to the café and welcome centre where most of the patrons were lying on the ground.Our group’s public relations person, Vanessa Small, then came up to me and asked if I was all right. I told her I was not and asked her to call our lawyer. She told me that no one was allowed to use the phone at this time. Again I was told to shut up by the individual who escorted me, or faced being 'gun butted'. At this time I started to take an account of what was going on around me. I noticed that the place was in disarray. One patron seemed to have blood all over his shirt while others seemed to be in a state of shock.About 15 minutes later I was again asked to give the particulars of my identification. After it was established that I was the person who was in charge of the event, I was told by someone who identified himself as an inspector that I had to have my property searched and was told to follow two unidentified officers into the Millar’s Creek Office and cottage. I was then interrupted by a lady who did not identify herself. She started to ask me questions about my identification and my past and present employment. I told her that I had taught at a private school for about 10 years before pursuing the Millar’s Creek Project. She cracked some joke with the others asking me if I had been fired. After both establishments had been thoroughly searched, the officer who carried out the search said that he was satisfied that there was nothing illegal found. They then took my laptop and digital camera. I told them I needed to be present when they went through my documents. They told me I did not have any rights.It was only after the search was done that another officer presented me with a search warrant. He advised me that they were in search of illegal weapons and drugs. I realized then that our organization had been set up. I responded that no illegal activities were allowed in this area as the park is an area for family events and the Welcome Centre was offered free of charge to anyone who wanted to have a non-profit event. I further stated that if illegal drugs or any other illegal activity was allowed I would not have gone through the trouble of having individuals searched at the gate before entering. An hour later I again asked to see the chief commander. One of the inspectors pointed him out to me but cautioned that I had to be profiled first and have a picture taken with which I complied. I spoke to the person in charge of the entire investigation who did not identify himself or show any other form of identification. I told him that this was a big misunderstanding and that what they were doing was against the law. I was cautioned by an inspector who insisted that he knew for sure that we harboured illicit drugs and guns in this area. I then asked him to show the proof of this. He produced a receipt that he claimed was dropped by someone who had paid for drugs on the property. I found it ludicrous that someone would incriminate himself/herself by writing a receipt with his/her name on it for selling drugs. I did not relay my thoughts to the inspector.At this point I believed all the high ranking officers knew that they had made a grave mistake. They did several background checks on me and found that I had a clean record and an impeccable past. Ten minutes later one of the inspectors came to me and said I had a warrant for a minor traffic offence that was committed in 2006. He continued that I must be placed under arrest and that only a judge could 'free me'. I told him that I was responsible for securing the place and that the government would be responsible for any vandalism or stealing that could occur if no one was there. This is when an officer who introduced himself as Evans told me that I would be free to secure my place over the weekend but I needed to see him at the Carmichael Road Police Station on the following Monday. I told him I would do so as soon as I spoke to our lawyer. Before leaving I was cautioned by an inspector about what to say in regards to that night’s operation. He reminded me that they had done me a favour by not locking me up for a traffic warrant. He, along with the unidentified chief operation officer, insisted that they knew for sure that this place had illegal activities and they would continue to target it. I reiterated that this was false and for the record I was not going to accept this statement.It was about after 3:30 am when the unidentified squad team started to wrap up their operation- I was released from my handcuffs. All Bahamians were asked to vacate the premises first, followed by other individuals. I insisted that Vanessa Small, our group’s public relations administrator stay so we could take an account of everything.After all the officers had left the scene I began to take an assessment of the past night’s operation. I found out that some of my workers who had work permits had been taken to the detention centre. The persons who were responsible for collecting money at the gate stated that the envelope containing the money was taken by officers. The person who was operating the bar explained that when he was told to lie down, a junior officer attempted to take about two-thousand dollars from his pocket. A senior officer instructed the officer to put the money back without any warnings or disciplinary action levied against this officer. Several cell phones had been tossed into the creek. Someone had his passport torn. Some patrons had been walked on and gun butted by unidentified officers. The most amazing thing I found out that some of the officers had consumed most of the food and drinks that were on sale at this event.On Sunday 20th April I began to take a full report from all the individuals who had worked or had been present the night before. Many individuals complained that money had been removed from their living quarters by officers.Today, Monday, 21 April I am still in a state of shock as I write this report. I have contacted about 50 individuals who are willing to testify and verify these reports. The Millar’s Creek Preservation Group has decided to forward this report to the Ministry of National Security and Immigration, the Commissioner of the Royal Bahamas Police Force, the Commander of the Royal Bahamas Defence Force and the Director of Immigration, with the hope that an explanation will be forthcoming; and that the irregularities mentioned in this report concerning the actions of some officers will be investigated and dealt with immediately.The Millar's Creek Preservation will be holding a press conference at 2 pm Wednesday, April 22, 2008 at the Millar's Creek Recreation Park located off Bacardi Road. We have invited victims who attended the function to be a part of this conference.E. Emmanuel McKenzieChairmanMillar’s Creek Preservation Group

The Long Silence

I am never sure how to address this question -- the question of my silence. It's not that I am not thinking. It's not that this blog isn't important either. The challenge I have, though, is my position as a senior government official. More and more the things I have/want to say seem to be in conflict with that fact. It isn't that everything that is current is politically charged -- but it seems as though there are many things that invite comment, and that comment is liable to be critical.So the question is, what do I do?I want to post, for instance, the story of an incident that occurred recently (two of them, in fact), because I think that the responsibility of a writer is to raise awareness, to speak out about injustice, and to point at things that are wrong in a society so that we can fix them. Let me just say this. The two stories to which I refer have to do with the abuse of power of our uniformed branches. Now I am a supporter of the police and the defence force. In my position I see the best of them; they work with us in securing major events and help us with logistics on a national level, and they do difficult jobs very well. But what I have heard on both sides are so egregious that they cannot be kept silent about.So the question is -- how do I do that?Well, I'm just going to do it, I guess.Watch this space.

CARIFESTA XI

For people who haven't been paying attention, it turns out that The Bahamas is going to host CARIFESTA after all, earlier than originally announced.

Trinidad and Tobago has agreed to let The Bahamas host the Caribbean Festival of Creative Arts (CARIFESTA) in 2010, Prime Minister Hubert Ingraham announced Saturday.

He made the disclosure during a press conference at the conclusion of the Caricom conference, held in Nassau last week. The Bahamas was supposed to host the festival in 2012, but Trinidad and The Bahamas have swapped places. This will be the first time the country has hosted the festival.

Source: The Nassau Guardian Online

It's that time of the year

when I disappear from view. The reason? The E. Clement Bethel National Arts Festival. For those who don't know, the spring period in the Department of Culture (as they call my division) is the other great programme that we do. Unlike Junkanoo, however, the vast majority of Bahamians seem not to have heard about it. I don't know why not, really. It's true we don't advertise the Festival, but then we don't advertise Junkanoo either, so it may not be that. It could be because the government has traditionally spent one-tenth or less of the money it spends on Junkanoo on the Festival -- again, I don't know why. (This year, thankfully, is different; we have authorization to spend one and a half to three times as much on Festival than we have ever had in the past). But there it is. My department produces the Festival, we cover the archipelago in doing so, and we do it in relative secrecy.If I weren't bound by General Orders, I'd speculate on what the problem traditionally has been. I'd ruminate about the way in which our independent Bahamian governments -- forget the party, forget the leaders, because there has never been any difference, ever -- have spent money on our people. I'd suggest that we've always been more interested in events and things than we are in human capital. It's true that our education system gets the lion's share of the national budget, but it's equally true that we are not getting our money's worth; it hasn't yet bought excellent educations for our children, and yet we're playing the same old game. And none of it allows the children themselves to choose -- really choose -- what they wish to be in life, because the tools that they're being given aren't equipping them for the world they find themselves living in.I say that because the world they're living in is a world that should, by all lights, provide opportunities for thousands to make money from private enterprise of various kinds. It could be the perfect world for self-employment, if our society were set up that way. The fact that millions (I'm not going to quibble with the number; anything over a million is enough for me) of people visit The Bahamas annually should be able to provide our mere thousands of Bahamians with tourist money of all sorts. We should be performing, creating, manufacturing, and branding our creations in such a way that we are all benefitting; but that is not how our society or our economy works. There are too many gatekeepers between the visitor and the creative Bahamian. There are too many contracts that allow resorts to occupy our land without respecting our culture, to permit them to furnish their buildings and entertain their guests without reference to who we are and what we have to offer. There are too many walls and too many gates, and too many reasons for people who grow up on islands other than New Providence to leave their homes and look for work.Here's what I know from almost five years of observing culture in The Bahamas and suffering from being in cultural administration.We Bahamians are almost impossibly creative. It's true of all of the Caribbean, but it's peculiarly true of The Bahamas. Though things are changing, the comment of almost every foreigner who is exposed to the talents of the Bahamian people is that every Bahamian is a creative artist.But

• We Bahamians have no nationally sanctioned outlet for our creativity beyond Junkanoo.
• We Bahamians have no nationally sanctioned or supported avenue to develop our talents, with the exception of the (absurdly underfunded and underrecognized) National Arts Festival. And so we almost universally hide them -- or worse, ruin them through misapplication.
• We Bahamians have no avenue to market our talents.
• We Bahamians have no respect for our talents.
• We Bahamians have no space to exercise our talents.
• We Bahamians are making too little money from our talents.

And we wonder -- or let foreign editors wonder for us -- why our society is too violent, too cruel, and too crime-ridden.The answer's right before us. There are none so blind as those who do not see.

The Journal meets the Tridian

I work for government. That means several things. One of them was this: when it happened, I didn't feel at liberty to comment on the acquisition, in July 2007, of the Nassau Guardian by the Tribune Media Ltd.There was plenty of noise about the merger, but most of that was sound and fury, signifying nothing, as most noise in The Bahamas tends to be these days. Probably the best post about the issue can be found here. Illuminati wrote:

On the surface it looks like a rather benign business arrangement created to save the big dailies some money by combining resources and physical operations.But is it even a JOA?A true joint operating agreement (JOA) is usually formed to protect a business from failure, yet prevent monopolization within an industry by allowing each party to retain some form of separate operation. JOAs are used in the newspaper, health care, gas and oil, and other industries.In a small town, like Nassau, where the business community is basically controlled by a closely knit group, it is hard to see how such an arrangement will benefit anyone but the media moguls themselves.

Illuminati concluded:

"Leading corporations own the leading news media and their advertisers subsidize most of the rest. They decide what news and entertainment will be made available to the country; they have direct influence on the country's laws by making the majority of the massive campaign contributions that go to favored politicians; their lobbyists are permanent fixtures in legislatures. This inevitably raises suspicions of overt conspiracy. But there is none. Instead, there is something more insidious: a system of shared values within contemporary Bahamian corporate culture and corporations' power to extend that culture to the Bahamian people, inappropriate as it may be." -- with apologies to Ben Bagdikian from Media Monopoly.

Now, six months later, we appear to live in a country where freedom of the press may be a moot point. The fact is that whether the press is free or not, it appears uninclined (or unable) to carry out the kind of investigative reporting that allows for analysis and sensible discussion of those issues. Maybe that means that worries about a news monopoly (worries that, admittedly, I shared back in July) now seem specious. A gossip monopoly, perhaps, considering the tendency of too many papers these days to print first, confirm facts after. But a news monopoly?The problem is, whether the Tridian is printing news or gossip, what Illuminati quoted back in the summer is still worth considering -- that news monopolies decide what news and entertainment will be made available to the country [and] have direct influence on the country's laws by making the majority of the massive campaign contributions that go to favored politicians.But here's the interesting thing. Six months after the merger, neither the Tribune nor the Guardian is leading public opinion with regard to Junkanoo, the biggest newsmaker of any year. No. The Bahama Journal is the paper that's doing that, at least for now. Is this a sign of things to come?

Does this country really need another bureaucrat?

You know you're in trouble when your job interferes with your calling.

The thing is, I'm a writer. Writers write. Writers write about stuff that inspires them. Writers write in part to inform those who read, and in part becase they just can't do anything else.

The other thing is, I'm a civil servant. I am one of the faceless scores of thousands of Bahamians who are bound to serve the government and people of The Bahamas, who are apprenticed to a hierarchy that grows ever more remote from the reality of life in the nation, and who are governed by a set of rules called General Orders which were drafted, by the tone of them, by English colonial bureaucrats, the ultimate purpose of whose administration was to return revenue to the Crown.

Oh, the folly. Oh, the fodder. Over the short course of my public service career I have collected enough inspiration for three seasons of a hit television series. Count two major elections twenty years apart (you do the math), and you will see the possibilities bloom. I even have the best of all possible titles in mind.

And yet. General Orders interferes.

So I ask you. Does this country really need another bureaucrat? Surely it would do better with some good social comment instead?

Posting, or not (a Junkanoo meditation)

This is just was supposed to be a brief post. I'm surprised that the last post I made was last Friday! I hope those of you who check here regularly had a good Christmas.I began a post on Junkanoo, which I thought was good this year, once the general chaos that surrounded the change of date because of "weather", but it was getting so long I decided to move it to Word and rework it as an essay. The strange thing about it is that the post seems to be a little long for that purpose, Essays on Life averaging around 1,000, and the post looking like it wants to stretch out to 1,500. Nevertheless. I need an essay, so that's it.But that's not ready, so here's this one for size. This year's Junkanoo stirred a little excitement in me for the first time in a long, long time. I'm someone who has not only been attending Junkanoo off and on all my life, but who has rushed and judged and worked as an administrator and had a brother and cousins and uncles who were Junkanoo fanatics. But the last time I was truly excited by what I could see as innovation on the parades were the late 1980s and early 1990s, when the off-the-shoulder dancers were evolving into major elements of Junkanoo, when 3-D costumes were blowing people's minds, before tricks were able to hide the sloppy pasting of costumes and when choreographed dance was only just beginning to slide into the parade.I am one of those Junkanoo aficionados who disliked much of what happened in the 1990s, starting with the moving of brass from the periphery of the parades to the centre, the speeding up of the rhythm so that drummers were required to do no more than imitate drum machines, and the centrality of tricks. Some stuff I did appreciate were the emphasis on cowbells, and the development of a whole new way of cowbelling — the one musical development that I regarded as evolution rather than selling out — and the accompanying development of the beller costumes. And what I really did respect about the 1990s was the development of groups other than the Valley and the Saxons — because the 1980s were really a two-group show for most of the time.But anybody who knows me well will know that I have been saying for a long time — in my head it's almost ten years, but I may have been articulating it only for about five or six, since the turn of the millennium — that Junkanoo is going through a creative and organizational slump. The great leaders and innovators, the people who created this new parade are growing old, losing energy and struggling with internal politics, and not creating what they were, and the younger generation didn't seem to be having the same audacity and breadth of vision. People were content with playing it safe, it seemed; those people who were innovating and pushing boundaries often found themselves at the peripheries of their groups because the groups and the fans wanted victory, not creativity, and the judging system, and the philosophy behind it — which is more of a philosophy of popularity and mass appeal than one that empasizes quality and innovation — was extremely conservative.But this year, something changed.There have been clues to what's been happening for years. The major radicals in Junkanoo over the last 10 years have been the members of the B group category, many of whom have an entirely different agenda from the A groups, and who, having nothing really to lose, have introduced many concepts to the parade that have caught on and revolutionized the A groups' presentations.The musicians who dropped out of the parade at the end of the 1990s because the music of Junkanoo had been relegated to the back seat by the major leaders, have been extremely critical of what has happened to Junkanoo music for some time, as have I. Most of the Junkanoo leaders are visual artists, not musicians, and for some time it's been common to make the absurd claim that trained musicians are not capable of judging Junkanoo music, which is entirely different from all other music in the world.The main criticisms that musicians responded with stemmed from two primary sources. One (which I have often argued) is that what makes Junkanoo unique in among carnivals and street parades in general is that it is a music which is at its core a rhythmic conversation. The central instrument is the drum, and the secondary instrument is the cowbell. Everything else is an embellishment. Melody is not a primary part of Junkanoo music, which is only right, given the very direct connection Junkanoo has with West African music, where the primary impulse is usually rhythm, and where melody is secondary.The other (related to the first, but not necessarily in agreement with it at all times) is that musical identity is measured not only in rhythm but in tempo and emphasis, in harmonic progressions and in melodic choices. The core Junkanoo beat is rhythmically similar to the Brazilian samba — which didn't surprise me when I first heard about it, because I know the strong Yoruba tradition in both countries. However, Junkanoo is a slower beat, and the rhythmic emphasis falls in a different place. In samba it falls on an off-beat; in Junkanoo it falls on the downbeat. This is what gives samba its swing and what gives Junkanoo its strong marching impetus. The speeding up of the rhythm in the 1990s, and its relegation to support of tunes rather than its placing at the core of the celebration, eroded the distinction between Junkanoo and samba and threatened the very survival of the unique Junkanoo beat. (Here I'm talking about the basic beat, not the variations that once marked the different stages of a Junkanoo participation, or the adaptations that distinguished the different Junkanoo groups and let you know who was coming by the rhythm alone. That is a different complaint altogether.)Anyway, coupled with this speeding-up was an empasis on the bass drum, which is a relatively new innovation in the city parades, and a real one (adopted from the Fox Hill Congoes, who have always had a strong bass core to their music, as opposed to the city groups, who relied far more on the tenor drums). Those people who were new to Junkanoo and were learning to beat in the real-fast days and who sometimes couldn't master the more complex lead rhythms were often assigned to play the bass beat, which is primarily a two-note beat. In true Junkanoo music it's supposed to sound like the words "da FOOT", with the emphasis on FOOT, and a nice short clipped "da". But many of the bass drummers are young people who listen to a whole lot of hip-hop and so they are playing an entirely different rhythm, one which they've learned from abroad. And so the rhythmic base of Junkanoo, once again, was in danger of being lost.And the introduction of melody into the parade and its newfound centrality was a decidedly mixed blessing. For some reason I won't go into here or now, current generations of Bahamians seem to have lost the ability to distinguish tunefulness in melody. In other words, there's a massive tolerance for music that is horribly out of tune; and Junkanoo is the worst offender. What is overlooked is that for many people, music that is played out of tune is physically painful (I'm one of them, but thank heaven my pain is minimal, and out-of-tune notes just make me screw up my face and want to stick my fingers in my ears). I have known individuals, though, who have to leave a room when they hear notes that are not right because their heads hurt or their stomachs turn. For years, brass players in Junkanoo appear to have simply begun blowing their instrument, without bothering to make certain that their horns were in tune with everybody else's, with the result that the music was often painfully off. (It still is at many of the tourist events, which is one reason I avoid Cafe Johnny Canoe on Friday nights).Finally, and this is a criticism raised by those people who understand not only Junkanoo as a so-called cultural expression but also in its historical context as a channel of social protest, 99% of Junkanoo has sold out. It doesn't criticize anything any more, but rather perpetuates a shallow and complacent view of society and the world that emphasizes the pretty and the whiteman friendly and that doesn't offend anybody at any time. There's plenty of prettiness, of tune-choosing and colour-matching, but little to no observation of social ills, no interpretation of Bahamian society to its audience, no showing of ourselves to ourselves, no critique, no edge. Sting is the obvious exception, as were the P.I.G.S. before them, but even Sting is growing vanilla. The difference between the Toters and the Civil Servant song is wide.This year?Let me say this. This Boxing Day, most of my criticisms melted away.The rhythms were tighter, and more obviously Junkanoo. The speed of Junkanoo music has slowed down considerably, and drummers are once again able to do more than beat four strokes. The best of them are being given the scope to provide the rhythmic variation that adds texture to the music, and fewer of the bass drum players are playing hip-hop rhythms, though some of them still are falling into that trap. And almost every A group had a horn section that was at least in tune, and that had sensibly arranged music. Finally, it seemed to me, brass had found a fit with Junkanoo, rather than the other way around.The costumes were more thoughtful, better finished, and better executed parade-wide than they have been for a long time. The themes seemed to have been more carefully selected, and their interpretation was worth waiting for; each group provided something actually to think about. And of course, this year, the younger groups not only came into their own, but they were recognized for having done so by the judges at long last.The only thing that still holds true is that Junkanoo has very little edge. It's still a celebration of prettiness, a hailing of all the icing in the society, but with no critique of the recipe that made the cake. The Music Makers, who were the group one looked to for the social commentary back in The Day (when their theme Law, Order and Discipline hit the streets back in the early 1980s, they were taking a risk, because they were satirizing the rhetoric of a government in which corruption was rampant, and which was in the process of being exposed), went safe, providing history without critique.But you can't have everything. At least this year I can say that what I saw in Junkanoo was art as well as sport.We've come a long way; we're climbing out of the canyon, and we're heading for a mountaintop.I hope it's not too soon to rejoice.

Celebrations of Mediocrity

I don't normally listen to Immediate Response; I'm normally a FM listener, switching between More 94 and Love 97 when it comes to talk shows. This week, though, I missed several very interesting shows, apparently. Most interesting were those that criticized those in government who prefer to use excellence and mastery of craft as a criterion for selecting people to represent the country instead appearance or show.I didn't hear the show, but heard of it. I want, though, to link to Obediah Michael Smith's blog, where he puts the point better than I will at this moment. Here's what he has to say:

Such a debate needed to be fixed upon and centered around, not the nonsense giggled about, petty complaints and concerns which took up most of the two hour show, but craft, instrument, art...The audience, the public, everybody involved, must be directed by the artist to focus upon these central, sacred elements: instrument and craft. The body as sex object belongs to the profession of prostitution.A singer’s instrument is the voice. A dancer’s instrument is the body and a body is filled with memories, personal and cultural and speaks many languages. The singer of popular music is usually a singer and a dancer, like Michael Jackson or Tina Turner and has therefore two instruments to perfect and to play.Too often though, especially where popular culture is concerned, fascinated by the phenomenon of fame and fortune, out to exploit the public, persons take to the stage with a bit of talent and a little training, dreaming of being stars.A large part of what we in our country call entertainment and culture is inspired by and is part of this crude phenomenon. I turn away from this. I turn my back upon it.Many do attempt to disguise a lack of craft with what is gratuitous and cheap: gyrating, near-nudity; emphasizing what should not be emphasized, attempting to distract from what they have not had and have not got: training.

Hear, hear, Mr. Smith. And here's the rest.

A Tourist's Comment

provides some evidence that we are not dealing with our tourist product the best way. Sharmayne says:

I [am] an African-American and spent my vacation on Paradise Island. I could not wait for some local friends or taxi came to take me away from the place. Maybe it is a paradise….for whites. For me it was slightly boring and lacked culture. I will definately not stay there again….my main reason for visiting (my eight time) is to be enveloped in Bahamian culture.

The comment is addresses this post, here.

The buck's gotta stop somewhere

Yes, I'm still on the topic of tourism and culture.

The reason I'm so antsy about this, Idébu (you would say passionate, and you did, and why do you have to have that pesky accent aigu in the middle of your name?) is that there is a prevailing thought Out There that tourism destroys people's cultures. It's a very old thought. It's one of the reasons that our Caribbean neighbours chose in the beginning to reject the tourist industry as a major force for their development, and it was drummed into our heads all throughout school when I was coming up. Tourism is bad for a country because it destroys the culture and turns citizens into servants. Marion Bethel, the Bahamian poet, has even written a poem about it.

But I have always fought that idea. Since they first told me that tourism destroys countries and economies and citizens, I've disagreed. Because in The Bahamas, while tourism did bring several ills, it also brought many good things too; it gave Bahamians access to cash money when all they had was credit in white people's stores; it created infrastructure when there was none, it turned our major festival, Junkanoo, into a parade with pretty costumes rather than a parade with scary costumes, and it educated many people's children.

Now I am Going Back here. The Bahamas is a global pioneer in the tourist industry; tourism in our country is almost 200 years old. Together with the Mediterranean and (strange to say) Switzerland, The Bahamas has one of the few societies whose people have been making money off the tourist dollar for far longer than the industry has had a name.

As that is the case, it is impossible to separate tourism and tourists from the Bahamian self. We have been offering hospitality not only long before we knew ourselves, but literally since the abolition of slavery. Europeans were visiting Nassau for their health and for the winter since the 1830s, and Bahamians were offering them tours of New Providence since then. Tourism on a bigger scale started in 1860 when the Royal Victoria Hotel was built, the pride of the nation, and provided Bahamian musicians and artists with a place to go and make their performances happen. Of course many of the sights have changed -- we don't have the Mermaid Lake anymore, where phosphorescence would light up the wake of the boat and the trails of the oars, and the Blue Hills are being cut down for construction purposes, and many of the homes in which those tourists stayed have been demolished or disfigured, and the Royal Victoria, that architectural wonder, burned to the ground twenty years ago. But the forts are still there, and so are the Botanical Gardens, which were opened in part to provide tourists with a sense of Bahamian flora and fauna.

Tourism even helped fund the Bahamian civil rights movement. That was in the 1950s, during the post-war nightclub era, when tourism created Bahamian performers of world class status. Freddie Munnings' Cat and the Fiddle was a meeting place not only for Bahamian civil rights activists, but for the Americans as well; through Sidney Poitier, Andrew Jackson and Martin Luther King and others met with Lynden Pindling and the pioneers of Majority Rule within the confines of that club. And the fact that Freddie Munnings was independently wealthy -- one of the richest Black Bahamians at that time -- enabled him to help fund the fight for the abolition of the colour bar that prohibited Black Bahamians from entering selected establishments.

And tourism reinstated Junkanoo and made it an arena which was right for the developments dreamed about by men like Gus Cooper and Percy Francis and Brian Gibson and Phil Cooper and Winston Rolle and others.So why is tourism now the reason that all of the above are compromised, stymied, or dead?

So maybe it's not MOT

but if it isn't, it's all of us.  The comment thread that follows the previous post (about tourism and its detrimental effect on culture) raised several points of importance, including the fact that agencies have to be convinced of the quality of Bahamian work before they engage Bahamians to do the work.Hm.