Many contend that Professor Oliver Headley was the only progeny to come out of the University of the West Indies (UWI). That is nonsense. What about me?
Headley and I were good friends and classmates in a science stream at Harrison College. However, at the last moment I switched to modern studies. Headley was disappointed. “That is a dead end, Hoad!”
He was right. For when the UWI interviewers asked what I would do with a history degree, I could only blurt: “Teach, I suppose.”
They looked down at their notepads, visibly unimpressed, and indicated the interview was over.
“Sirs, could I switch to agriculture?” It was a desperate bolt from the blue which had never crossed my mind before. Suddenly they were smiling and animated. The schol was in the bag.
Yet, maybe Headley was wrong. For had I done history, by now I might be Sir Dicky, big pappy at Cave Hill. Or professor meritissimus at the Community College, railing against white Independent senators and using the N-word freely on national TV.
Actually, no. I would never be that kind of historian. Let me explain.
“History” is exactly what it says: “his story”. The historian takes a mass of alleged facts from long-dead sources and fashions them to suit his particular agenda. It is not a matter of suppressing the truth; it is where you put the emphasis.
For instance, we studied history with the likes of John Hammond and R.V. “Galoopie” Goodridge. We learned about West Indian slavery and the slave trade. But no student came out of those classes riled up to seek revenge.
We realized that history happens in the context of its times. The slave Spartacus escaped and raised a rebel army against Rome. When finally defeated in 71 BC, 6 000 of his followers were crucified along the main road to Rome as a warning to other slaves not to revolt.
In contrast, my children were taught slavery in the manner of Roots. White children were snidely identified with slave-owners. My daughter was made to stand for an entire class because she wouldn’t say which “height or terrace” she came from. She couldn’t. We live in a wooden house at the bottom of Morgan Lewis Hill.
History, then, is a tool, positive or negative. Like a cutlass, it can be used to harvest your bananas or injure someone. Your ancestors’ past cannot affect your DNA. What you take forward, boost or baggage, is what you have been taught by historians. And choose to accept.
My history would be different. “Barbados,” I would tell my students, “was originally inhabited by Arawaks and other Amerindians. They called it “Ichirouganaim”. Alas, with the coming of 20/20 cricket, no one could pronounce or cheer for that name and we always got beaten. So the Arawaks said, ‘To’ellwiddat’ and went elsewhere.
“The important point here is that the Arawaks supported themselves off Barbados’ natural resources: fishing, hunting and unprotected sex.
“Fast forward to WWII and hero Sir John Saint who introduced measures to keep Barbados self-sufficent in food.
“Move up to the 1940s where another hero Leitha Wilkinson in Forty Acres could support her family on $6 a week, no running water, electricity or telephone. She fed me most days too.
“Skip to the 1970s, where a fellow would arrive at 5 a.m. at the Farm, St Peter, where I was manager, to feed and wash down the pens for 1 200 pigs. He would then return home to come back at seven to work all day as a mason/contractor at the same farm.
“After feeding the pigs again in the evening, he would hustle off to his job as maître d’ at an upmarket hotel on the West Coast.
“These are not exceptions. They are examples of ordinary Barbadians who typify the Bajan spirit that made us great. And can still make us great. They would have laughed at this present-day so-called crisis.
“So, my students, don’t let history induce you to wallow in bitterness. Instead, use its examples to do your country proud. Sir Hilary has 30 acres at Dukes lying idle. Plenty more idle acres around. You unemployed ones, seek to work the land. Feed your families, generate income, earn foreign exchange.
“Let Ichi-roug-an-aim be your watchword: itch to succeed, rough it up, and aim for the stars.”
• Richard Hoad is a farmer and social commentator.
