Will you be rolling up the tassa, Bissessar?

My memories of Trinidad are undoubtedly gastronomic.
Trinidadian food is hot- pepper of the scotch bonnet variety is a basic ingredient, and condiments and dishes all have big bold flavours. Kutchela, Anchar and “Mother in Law’ pepper sauce all find their way to my London cupboard. Among the dishes that I love, which include the delectable compactness of a zesty chicken roti and the colourful cacophony of meat and rice that constitute a pelau, there are two dishes in particular that would have me chomping at the bit in a sensory bud orgasm- doubles and souse.

Doubles has been referred to (unaffectionately) by Trinidadian doyenne Rachel Price as “fried flour” but the reality is more subtle. It is essentially a fried sweet bread that is turmeric flavoured, filled with piquant channa (chick peas or garbanzo beans) and tasty dhal (split peas). It is served best topped with chutneys of mango, cucumber and tamarind with a dash of "slight" pepper. Souse, as its name reveals, is a much more robust dish. The unwanted parts of a pig or cow or a chicken (usually their feet or skins or bellies) would be boiled and then pickled in a mixture of wine vinegar or lime juice,  seasoned in salt, garlic and thyme then garnished with peppers and cucumbers and left to marinate. It does not sound it but it is very yummy.

It is often assumed that Doubles evolved from the Indian Dish Chole bhature, Chole (Chana masala) which is cooked spicy chick peas and the Bhature (Poori) being a fried puffy bread, a dish commonly eaten in north India. Souse is an undoubtedly African inspired slave dish; its manner of preparation is very similar to Southern cuisine and it is typical of the curing techniques used on the plantation. Souse is therefore creole or afro in origin and doubles is East Indian. An interesting fact about souse and doubles is that they are each nice on their own, but they do not go together. Likewise, the story of Indian and African cohabitation in the small island of Trinidad is complex.

When slavery was abolished in 1833, almost 200,000 Indians were brought in to Trinidad to service the plantations under a system of legalised indentured labour. Historians such as Hugh Tinker called it a new system of slavery but I would vehemently oppose this categorisation- even if for a pittance, the dignity of working to earn (laborare est orare) already gave the Indian population a head start over the Africans who were by then idle and displaced and left with an aversion for labour. The Afro population were already by then also dispossessed of their language, culture, religions and customs. The Indian population, by contrast, were left culturally intact, and segments of the Indo Trinidadian grouping were sometimes awarded portions of land in lieu of a return passage, to encourage settlement. This led to some uneasiness and resentment on the part of the old Afro population.Indo Trinidadians are now the largest ethnic group- they now make up approximately 40% of the population. Afro Trinidadians make up 37.5%. There are about 40,000 European settlers- smaller groups of Chinese, Lebanese and Arabs and 20% of the population would describe themselves as mixed race (often dougla- the particular mix of Afro and Indian).

Trinidad, like mainland Guyana, has experienced some degree of conflict between its primary ethnic groups. Despite its motto "Together we Aspire Together we Achieve", class structure and political systems are often organised along ethnic lines (Professor Moses Seenarine, Introduction to Caribbean History). This is because, according to Professor Seenarine, racial stereotypes developed early in the two colonies. British planters characterized Africans as physically strong but lazy and irresponsible. East Indians were stereotyped as industrious but clannish and greedy. He notes that these views that are still present today. To feel sleepy after eating is referred to in and around the Caribbean as having "niggeritis", a direct allusion to the laziness of Africans. To some extent, these stereotypes were accepted by the immigrant groups themselves. The stereotypes provided a false explanation of behaviour and justified competition among groups. Africans were described as indolent when they refused to work for low wages or make long-term contracts with the plantations as the Indians had. East Indians were considered selfish when they minimized their expenses to acquire wealth.

This is illustrated, for example,  in the very popular politically incorrect playground ditty "Coolie coolie run for roti all the roti done. Ah nigger man pick up a machine gun an all de coolie run" (coolie being the derogatory word for Indian). My Trinidadian friend confirms that their version went - "coolie man come for roti, roti dun, mash potato, mash potato, half past one, when the nigger pull the trigger, ole man coolie run". Out of the mouths of babes. The stereotype of the violent destructive Afro islander vs the curry-eating greedy Indo islander perpetuated the status quo. Meanwhile, whilst many of the Afro population were becoming “saga boys” laughing at the Indians working on the plantations, many Indo Trinidadians were savvy and astute and established themselves commercially. As a result, many of the land owning Indians were, and still are outperforming their Afro counterparts in business, economic endeavours and education, still inspiring some latent resentment.

In much the same way, support for political parties appear to fall along ethnic lines with the PNM consistently obtaining a majority Afro-Trinidadian vote, and the UNC  gaining a majority of Indo-Trinidadian support. There has, in the past, been a deep racialisation of political consciousness. It first began with the split from the Butler Party (Butler was Afro-Trinidadian) when the PDP (majority Indian) formed their own political organisation. The African populace was fearful of this new Indian formation and Eric Williams then formed the People's National Movement (the PNM) which ruled Trinidad from 1956 to 1986.

Racial issues continued to obfuscate and destroy any lower class solidarity. This continued well into the twenty first century. In fact, Patrick Manning, former Prime Minister, ascribed his 1995 defeat to the rising Indian consciousness stimulated by the 150th anniversary of Indian Arrival. Manning even argued that he had lost support because it was felt that it was time for an Indian Prime Minister. Afro Trinidadians continued to document through calypso and in newspaper columns, Basdeo Panday's hugely charged racial encounters. Under the UNC, it was alleged that black CEOs of companies were routinely fired and replaced with Indian supporters and there was a perceptible Indianization of the public service (Professor Anton Allahar, UWI). Vice versa charges have been fired away at Patrick Manning’s administration. There have been several allegations of anti Indian discrimination.

Therefore it is a bittersweet, nervous occasion for me. On one hand, I am happy that the Trinidad & Tobago electorate saw it fit to elect a woman. I whole heartedly congratulate Prime Minister Kamla Persad-Bissessar, particularly as she was able to rise above the unfair stereotypes targeted at women which would never be used as an indictment against men. The fact that she liked a drink or two (a woman after my own heart, bless) made her a drunk (a man would be deemed merely sociable) and her sympathetic nature was interpreted as vulnerability (a man would be called sensitive). With her victory on Monday, Ms Kamla Persad-Bissessar has now successfully laid a salutary stone in the edifice of female political leadership ably commenced by Dame Eugenia Charles of Dominica and Portia Simpson Miller of Jamaica.

On the other hand, I am wondering if the UNC can really make a definite inroad in healing the racial divide after Patrick Manning did much to exacerbate it. This process had already commenced with its now very fashionable idea of a coalition. It was heartening to see that in these elections it has been reported that persons actually voted across the manufactured lines of race, class and ethnicity. It is a good start. Maybe one day when I go to a certain Trini fete in London, I won’t see a paucity of black people featured in the photos. Maybe I wouldn’t hear comments next time I am in Trinidad that it was surprising to see Indo Trinidadians mixing with the Afro population.

Maybe, just maybe, Kamla will be different.

(Pic compliments guardian.co.tt)

VVIP assness

"And I look in the rearview and see a man
exactly like me, and the man was weeping
for the houses, the street, that whole fucking island...
But they had started to poison my soul
with their big house, big car, big time bohbohl,
coolie, nigger, Syrian and French Creole,so I leave it for them and their carnival...
I have seen things that would make a slave sickin this Trinidad, the Limers' Republic. "

Derek Walcott, Schooner's Flight


I have always said that I could live in Trinidad. Easy easy I could I said. A small island style metropolis- a place that is like no other in the Caribbean, where village marries with town so easily, where glass and steel structures coexist with an amalgam of prideful plywood and galavanise houses, and where the doubles man sells hot curry on the side of the road near Woodbrook (home of international gourmet fare). Trinidad likes to call itself a melting pot but it's more like its national dish- the pelau, the basic ingredients still keep their character when they are mixed and the result is heavenly. Even on my first visit to Trinidad, I remember saying to my mother that I was probably a Trini in a past life- I like mas, I like kaiso, I like pan, I like carnival, I like curry and corn soup and I like pepper too bad!

In fact, a lot of Trinidad reminded me of Grenada. Too much of it. A mahogany toned Rasta selling intricate leather slippers and bags that reminded me of a mountain "jola". A crowded market stall brimming with the aroma of metal-hot pepper sauce and steaming curry. Local restaurants tucked in between a shoe store and a shopping centre with surly service (why can't Caribbean people get this right?) but they slowly and eventually win you over with dishes so vibrant and tasty and unusual (rice an pig tail cookup) that you forgive it. A stray dog liming in the road. And a baby faced youth with a straw hat asking "Fresh coconut water for you miss?" This time Trinidad reminded me of Grenada so much so that I had a sense of the invincible, of walking on my own territory and home-turf and my friend and local Trinis constantly had to remind me "Yuh in Trinidad.. hold you bag close to you... don't let nobody hear yuh mix-up Grenada English accent...doh ask nobody no question, doh let dem know yuh from foreign... doh wear that dress, it look too English". Doh do this doh do that. At times I really thought I had entered Baghdad. I went to Bethlehem last year, an occupied territory, and even there I didn't feel this sense of precaution and uneasiness.

It began again and culminated "Doh go in Brass Fete, dey go rob yuh. Doh go in Insomnia General. Doh go Soca Monarch General- yuh mad, yuh ehn know who dere. Yuh hadda go VVIP". VVIP? Explain. It was explained to me that there was an economic stratification of fetes. General- which costs about $200 EC (£20). VIP (Very Important Persons) which costs $400 (40) and the pinnacle, VVIP (Very Very Important Persons) ($600) (£65). Ah set ah assness.

Some fetes did not have this stratification but they were there by default- Beach House and Lara Fete cost $750(£75) and $1300 (£130) respectively, far out of the reach of the average Trinidad citizen. With this stratification there is an obvious social demarcation. I had not encountered anything like this before (except maybe on Bobby's Trinidad inspired summer cruise) and I don't know whether it exists in the rest of the Caribbean. Of course, I am familiar with VIP or premium tickets at international events but this was the first time there was this connotation or connection of these words with class. I was told that the people buying general tickets were naturally the less well to do Trinidadians, but not only were they deemed to be less well off, they were also assumed to be an unsafe wild crowd (as opposed to be just out to have a good time) who would take every opportunity to prey, steal and attack, a "different class ah people- Doh go there wid no bag" I was told. In other words the general patrons were regarded as corbeaux. VIP was an aspirational category. Fuckery by another name (excuse me French). Not quite as good as VVIP but you were trying, you were on the up. You wouldn't get robbed but there would be no amenities. ("Who de hell need amenities in ah fete?). So to place yourself out of the reach of the ordinary people, the girl who work she ass off in Samaroos to save up for she one ticket, the guy who come with all his padnas on his day off from his hard construction job, you need to go sit down on a bench, with a few other people whose noses are stiff from being pointed upwards for so long, and view Soca Monarch like it's a damn opera. "Was that Patrice? Oh Patrice. She is mmmmarvelllous dahling" Applause.


Professor Bridget Brereton published an article on post colonial Trinidad. It said "During the generations of emancipation, Trinidad was clearly a segmented society made or different sectors... divided primarily by national origin and race... but also by education and economic position. The segments formed a hierarchy, with one clearly dominant and the others clearly subordinate". Professor Brereton would be appalled to know that this very passage could be applied to some issues and segments of society in Trinidad today.

It has always confused me as to why Grenada merely two heartbeats from Trinidad does not face the issues of crime and cold hearted violence in quite the same way. Surely, of all the Caribbean islands, we are probably most similar in culture and identity. We eat the same food, tell the same jokes, use the same dialect and yes, half of Grenada is in Trinidad. (After this article, they might put them out!). Yes, we are a lot smaller but size is no shield to violence. I am no sociologist but I think that this racial and economic formation I noted is a big part of the answer. Apart from a very very select few (less than 1% I would say) who can be tucked away in Lance Aux Epines and True Blue, the rest of Grenada for the most part coexists - the big wall house in the Villa St Mark's started from a small board house and is aspirational to the rest of the board house dwellers, we work in the same Ministries, we ride on the same buses, we go to the same hospital, we attend the same fetes, we pay the same price .The Trinidad story therefore is a warning to us that the wealth of a nation can be a curse and that its unequal distribution can rob a country of its cohesion.

How can you expect to be left in peace when you turn your noses down and refuse to intermingle with certain sectors of your society? When the line between the haves and the have nots are drawn and displayed even in the way you party, what leavest thou for this line in areas where it really matters- education, healthcare, jobs? I am afraid to ask or even to enquire. Professor Nunez of City University New York explores this theme in her fiction- there is for instance health care for the poor, and a much higher standard or healthcare for those who can afford to pay. I am not saying that this does not exist elsewhere but I think perhaps this socio-economic line is drawn rather harshly and loudly and the people who are on the wrong side of it perhaps feel wronged.

Violence is often the exteriorisation of frustration with the status quo. Sure there are some people who are just "bad minded" but when citizens are treated like they are second class, they often respond with a boomerang reverberation and protest where it hurts. Why shouldn't they have what you have? Why shouldn't they sip wine within a gated community and earn $20,000 TT a month? Why should just you be living the high life, sending your children to the best schools and living at the upper echelons of society while their children are surviving on a diet of flour dumpling and Solo? We all know that Trinidad's wealth has not trickled down to a majority of the masses and this surge in violence and crime, may just be born of severe discontent and "fedupness" with the status quo. They smell your fear when you walk through the streets of Port of Spain, afraid to engage in dialogue, clutching your Coach handbag. They can see you through the fences in VVIP swigging your champagne and flaunting what you have. They know that you that you wouldn't choose to associate with them. They don't think it's fair that on their wages alone they can't visit their own clubs or play in the extortionate carnival bands. They resent the fact that you can. So they think its fair play to stick your wives up in the streets, threaten to rape them, to kidnap your daughters and to stab, shoot and kill, to break into your house and steal your ipods and blackberries and laptops because they have nothing more to lose and the chance to gain at least, just a little bit of your life, your privilege.


I still love Trinidad. And I could still live there. It's just a pity these issues of inclusion and separateness are not being addressed head on because I sincerely believe in Haile Selassie's prophecy that "until there are no longer first class and second class citizens of any nation... that until that day, the dream of lasting peace and universal morality will remain but a fleeting illusion to be pursued and never attained"


(Ah know de Trinis go have plenty to say but doh worry- Grenada own coming up soon!)