That until the color
of a man's skin is of no more
significance than the color of his eyes, there is a war.
That until the basic Human Rights are equally
guaranteed to all, without regard to race, there is a war.
That until that day, the dream of lasting peace, world citizenship, rule of
International
morality, will remain but a fleeting illusion to be pursued, but never attained
- Haile Salassie / Bob Marley War
It is hard to remain objective towards an author who makes blatantly racist
remarks in his introduction; it tends to set the tone for the rest of the reading
experience. And no matter what tangible knowledge he might impart, how erudite
or engaging the words might be, the fact remains that his ideas and insights
will be filtered through that occluding lens of fear. Although, it is disingenuous
to not attempt to separate the bias from the kernels of useful information presented.
But, is it truly too much to ask that the author not season his work with an
overt preference for a singular cultural taste when the subject suggests a mélange
of a wholly different order? It is consequently sad to say that others who seem
more conscious of this and therefore represent AfroCaribbean and Indo-Carribean
cultural traditions as major aspects in the mixture, instead of fixating of
Latin-Carribean traditions, write the better portions of the text. Or at the
least pose information that encourages further discussion and research.
It was after I had finished Caribbean Currents, by Peter Manuel, Kenneth
Bilby and Michael Largey, that I discovered on the cover image an indicator
of the primary author's bias. The image is a depiction of day and night in which
musicians play. To the right, are Jibaro, or poet-singers from Puerto
Rico, one of which plays a quatro, the guitar-like instrument emblematic
of the independence movement there. On the nightside portion are Afro-Carribean
drummers with a mambo and houngan dressed in Orisha white. What
sets this panel apart, ever so slightly, is the participation of a Latino, or
Amerindian in the left portion, where no such cross-fertilization of the music
takes place on the day-side. This suggests less of a creolization (an inelegant
word, indeed!), or blending, than a dilution of Afro-Caribbean traditions and
an affirmative nod to a Latin-American independence movement, in one of the
last vestiges of colonialism left in the Caribbean Basin.
If it were merely nationalism at the heart of this, that would be one thing,
but to tie it to a racial preference, is to foster the very thing he is attempting
to redress. It can't be more plain than this, "Unlike the inbred, blue-eyed,
ethnically isolated English, the olive-complected southern Europeans had a certain
Mediterranean cosmopolitan nature bred from centuries of contact, with diverse
Arabs, Jews, Gypsies, and Africans" (11). You can't battle racism with racism
of a different order. It isn't racism that he is portraying it is religion.
The Protestant values of Anglican England and Puritan America had more to do
with the way in which the Africans were viewed and treated, than did any cosmopolitan
or syncretic view towards race. Indeed, the early Irish and Scots were considered
"black" because of the indigenous Picts in Scotland and the Iberians said to
have settled in Ireland, both being dark-eyed and darker-complected. Yet, it
was religion that perpetuated their inferior treatment in the United Kingdom
(as it was for Jews and Gypsies, irregardless of their national origin or "racial"
stock).
He further attempts to hide behind race in his discussion of Puerto Rico's rural
Latino culture being displaced into bourgeois American urban environments, when
this is clearly the class stratification inherent in capitalist economic policy
(53). However, what is possibly the most obvious indication of this bias is
his continued disrespect, throughout the text, to the (Neo-) African Diasporic
religions, which were highly formative aspects and considerably pervasive in
Caribbean cultures. When discussing Vodou, Santería, and Shango throughout the
text, there is either an intentional or misinformed lack of capitalization.
With the importance of these traditions, especially as it relates to the rhythmic
character of most music in the Caribbean, it is either poor scholarship or unmitigated
religious bias that this disrespect points toward (21-22).
Where the author offers knowledge that is less focused on racial divisiveness,
and consequently more revelatory, is in his views on the political landscape
of the Caribbean Basin in colonial and post?colonial history. His discussion
of revolutionary Cuba and the effects of the American Embargo, prompted me,
in response to coverage of the MFNT vote for China, to write a letter to NPR
regarding our incongruous rhetoric towards these two communist countries (44-49).
Likewise, the inclusion of personal narrative was for me, one of the most fulfilling
aspects, as they contain cultural experiences experienced in first hand and
therefore come closest to ethnography (17, 60). The conclusion, in the form
of topics for further reading and research on the cultural traditions of the
Caribbean Basin was the most engaging portion of the text; providing directions
for students to focus their observations and writings (232).
Unfortunately, only the two secondary author's material inspires further research
or much discussion. The work by Kenneth Bilby on the Kumina drum and dance and
its influence on the Rastafarian nyabinghi music was the most intriguing
information presented in the text. Not to mention the historical observation
of the early Howellite Rastafarian gathering, the Maroons and "the half that
has never been told" (146-151). Likewise Michael Largey's coverage of Suriname
and the Indo-Caribbean music and culture in "The Other Caribbean" suggested
a "creolization" that is a more realistic representation of the cultural mixture
of the Caribbean, than the seasoning certain "moldy figs" would have us differentiate
(88).