A gathering fury – Word View

When we use the term “Barbadian society,” to which Barbados are we referring? Do we mean the Barbados divided into its different ethnic and class groups? Or the Barbados split between the under-35s and the rest of us? Do we mean the residents of the heights, parks, terraces and gated communities, or those living in the “other” parts of the country? Are we holding to the view that there is such an entity as a homogeneous Barbados?With the modern ease of movement from one place to another, societies are changing faster than we can keep up. The same is true for this small island. But while we may give mental assent to this notion of change, I am convinced that many of us are living in ignorance of the so-called sub-cultures that are very much with us.A few years ago I attended the funeral of a friend’s grandmother. An innocent enough event, I thought. The usual observances and that would be that. Wrong! What struck me first of all on approaching the church was that the nearby areas and the churchyard were jam-packed. Nowhere to park. My friend’s grandmother was of no particular social prominence and was quite old. Her funeral was unlikely to draw this crowd. When I finally made my way into the churchyard, I was not only confused, but shocked. Who were these hordes of people dressed in this bizarre fashion? Was I at the wrong funeral? (It wouldn’t have been the first time.) But no, I was in the correct place. Someone then solved a piece of the mystery for me: there were two funerals to be held that afternoon. The first was for my friend’s grandmother. Those for the second had begun to arrive before the first one ended.The news spread quickly. A gang member had died in a motor vehicle accident. His friends and supporters had come to pay their last respects.I had no choice but to remain outside the church because of the crowd. But the scene before me was mesmerising. The women arriving had bedecked themselves in outfits that went the whole range from skimpy to flashy, with any number of glittering chains and necklaces accompanying these outfits. They wore braids in varied colours and elaborate styles piled high on their heads, leaving visible the long earrings in ears that had been pierced in every available spot. The men were dressed in a conspicuous manner as well, sporting locks of almost every description, heavy chains adorning their necks, gold teeth flashing. One or two such individuals in a crowd may have aroused some interest, but the effect of seeing what seemed like hundreds of them at one time was jolting.    But that was not all. It turned out that the two graves were just opposite each other. A small group of us were already at the gravesite when the second crowd arrived with a tremendous amount of noise. For some reason the priests had delayed (second thoughts, perhaps?) and we had time to observe the goings-on next to us. Members of the group were positioning themselves around the grave of their fallen friend, and amidst shouts and cursings (literally) they were throwing what I later discovered were spliffs into the grave. Meanwhile, standing slightly apart from the group was a young man dressed in a trench coat. Yes, in the hot broiling sun he was dressed in a heavy trench coat. I checked with the person next to me to make sure that what I saw was correct and that I was not under the influence of the heavy marijuana smoke all around. It was just as well that I did not understand the significance of this occurrence at the time. I learnt later that the coat was most likely concealing a weapon in the event that some war might break out.  I did not remain for much longer. I headed home, my mind in turmoil. What had I just witnessed? Who were these people? Were we all living in the same Barbados? What were the implications of all that I had just seen and heard?My friend Carl Moore is persistent in his call for a quieter Barbados. We should pay heed. If on some occasion we would all be silent for a period of two or three days at a time, we just might hear the rumblings of something subterranean; some fury gathering in the distance. How can it be averted? •Esther Phillips is an educator, poet and editor of BIM: Arts For The 21st Century. Email [email protected]