Mia McMorris | Try and remember, please remember!

When I travel, I love to go to museums, and historic sites. Unfortunately, too often we see the landmarks, monuments, street markers, etc, representing a totally outdated narrative. It is disappointing when you know research has been done and the narrative updated, but markers continue to represent colonial, racist stories.

Now, to be clear, this is not everywhere, symbolic decolonising is a growing movement. We saw it on international news during the 2020 Black Lives Matter marches where protesters in Bristol, UK, upended a monument depicting enslaver Edward Colston into the city’s port. There was also the changing of street names a few years later to recognise minority communities: Black Boy Lane was changed to La Rose Lane in Tottenham, UK, and in Cambridge, Massachusetts, street names were changed in late 2023 to acknowledge the language of the indigenous Massachusetts Tribe.

These small adjustments change the larger narrative. Instead of seeing derogatory language, imagery, honours or commemorative acts to those who colonised, tortured and demeaned African ancestors, space is created for ancestors and freedom fighters who sacrificed for their country and beliefs. In that vein, I am thrilled to see the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago taking a stand by replacing the tribute to Christopher Columbus and his supposed ‘discovery’ of the new world with the culturally significant ‘steel drum’ on the national emblem.

The Steel Pan is synonymous with Caribbean Music. When you visit the Caribbean, or think about its music, that melodious signature sound comes to mind. It also has the significant honour of being the newest instrument developed in the world, having been created during the late 19th century. Pan’s origins date back to colonial injustices perpetrated by French and British colonisers and enslavers, such as the masquerade. Enslavers would masquerade as the enslaved and dance in the streets in preparation for the Lenten season. Similarly, enslaved Africans would pretend they were attending church, and instead host their own events like Canboulay, gathering to play their drums, singing in their own languages, dancing and finding ways to retain their own culture. The efforts by these ancestors to hold tightly to their ritual, language and culture created the perfect space for the steel drum to be born. When oil was found in the country, oil drums were abundant and before long there was a need to dispose of them. The merging of West African drums and this new resource formed something new, something wholly Trinbagonian.

PATH FORWARD

As we witness the removal of a dark legacy in Trinidad’s history, something born out of struggles, we see a path forward towards reparatory justice. As a region we have been searching for self in the face of a colonial past. In the 1960s many countries claimed their freedom (without much else) from their former colonisers and cobbled together a path to national independence. In the region, Trinidad and Tobago stands slightly apart, as it became a republic just over a decade after independence. However, it too still had legacies to combat, and in this long-fought movement, vestiges of enslavement and colonialism in their emblem are up for removal.

As many countries of the CARCIOM region debate the path towards Republicanism, we have to acknowledge the legacies that we face on a daily basis. In Jamaica, we are up against the internalised racism that holds fast to colonial traditions: maintaining awards to enslavers (Musgrave Award), road names as tributes to colonisers (King Street, etc), and monuments to captors (Queen Victoria). As we interact with these legacies daily, we must rise to ask the question: where are our ancestors in these spaces of memory? Why must we trek only to Heroes Circle or Devon House to see black men enshrined in glory? Our priorities need to be adjusted; we need a reality check.

The truth is, we cannot transition to a republic without a better understanding of our history. How can we stand as a nation of sovereign citizens when we cling to colonial narratives and shy away from the trauma of our ancestors? Too often within the Centre Reparation Research we hear our brothers and sisters complaining about or berating critical steps in the movement toward progress. We HAVE to move forward from our colonial past, but we cannot continue to erase the past atrocities without confronting them. We must honour the works that have allowed us to enjoy steel pan music, masquerade and carnival alongside reggae, dancehall, and soca, for example, which have given us the freedom to explore our creativity and passions, as well as to access the most basic of human rights in popular cultural celebrations. When we reach that gloried moment of republic will we honour the achievements of our ancestors, or will we hold fast to the colonial imagery of old?

Mia McMorris, is junior research fellow, at Centre for Reparation Research. Send feedback to reparation.research@uwimona.edu.jm