Divide and Rule

I hated Monday mornings, not because of the hangover from enjoying the spirit of St Lucia, a little too much, but also because it was the day before banana day. That meant that I had to run around all day long, getting ready for another early Tuesday Banana harvest morning. Oh yes by the way I said “Banana Day”, yep it was literally a full day’s work which ended in an early morning ride back from the wharfs. But back to the day before banana day, Monday mornings, when I had to drive from Micoud to Praslin getting ready for the next day’s work, affectionately referred to by the workers as” La fetes de Bourick “. A Creole saying which when translated literally means “The feast of the donkey”. You may infer a great deal from that statement, least of which could be, that the grueling physical nature of the work, on harvest day, was not to pleasing to the workers’. But I digress because my original intention was to highlight what I saw on my drive to the Banana Boxing Plant and that is the entwined destiny of the individual communities which i passed on my way. And yet at the same time I marveled at their separateness’ and apparent individuality.

“Divide and rule” an age old strategy utilized by the Romans in their conquests and the Europeans conquering of Africa. It sometimes seems to me that there still exist marked divisions between communities in St Lucia and I sometimes wonder whether this is partly because of slavery. I have come to believe that such a tribal mentality has slowly changed for the better over time and we have evolved into more social beings, able to form consensus across divisions. So my morning ride would take me first to Micoud, where I would pick up card board frames, which would be made into boxes in which the bananas would be packed into for export. On my way to Micoud I would have to decide whether to put gas in the vehicle either in Mon Repos or in Micoud, a choice which illustrated the division between communities.

I had a choice between stopping at the intersection of Mon repos road and the highway or choices between four different gas stations in Micoud. Come to think of it the competition must have been fierce. On my way to Micoud I usually refuelled at the first stop which was usually the Mon Repos Gas station. After refuelling I would head out to get the material needed for harvest day. On my way back from the boxing plant in Micoud I would probably make a stop off in Micoud to pick up one of the famous Dahl Puris, with peas stuffing and wash it down with a local soft drink, champagne or cream soda flavoured.

Malgratoute was a must stop on the days when I could pick up some fresh fruit, mangoes, plantain, even some roast pork. It was difficult to stop for too long because I had to get back on the road there was work to be done. Back on the road again and at the intersection of St Marie and La Pointe road, one would have to slow down because it was a blind corner and many people used it as a crossing point. Thank goodness for the lovely lady who protected and ensured that the school children crossed safely on mornings and afternoons. I would turn right into La Pointe and go pick up a friend to help me glue and transport the boxes to the farm.
If I had the time and the road was good I could either go through St Marie or Knockay Avenue to get to Lumbard, but that would take more time although the route through St Marie is very beautiful. But since I had picked up all I needed in Micoud I would not have had to go up to Lumbard, which had a banana input depot too, unless I found some excuse to go up the hill, probably to say hi to a friend. Praslin was the last community that I would pass through on my way to the farm, I enjoyed stopping off here. I often times bought fresh fish for my Mom and if I was lucky and coaxed one of the fisher men to give me a few extra crabs, octopus or maybe some lobster, my day would be made.

Driving through Micoud north with its diverse community there was always so much to enjoy and appreciate. There is one thing that I have always found surprising and it is that there seems to be a strong polarization between communities. It is almost like they are competing against each other. It is quite ironic since we are all on this small rock and reside in even smaller communities. I do believe that with time things have changed, but yet the more they change the more they remain the same somehow.

It’s like, there ounce were seven sisters who could never agree. Individually they each were strong, beautiful and witty, but together they would be so much more. They always disagreed and because of their constant disagreement they never got anything done. Micoud, Malgratoute, Patience, La.Pointe, Lumbard, Mon Repos and Praslin. It seems that there is a constant infighting and bickering within communities and most definitely across communities. It is tribal, it is family, it is North, South, East West, yet we found a way to survive for so many years together on this land. Don’t be shackled to a mentality that prevents you from dealing amicably with your fellow men and women, to divide and rule is their only plan.