BOOK WALK TOURISM
I’m not too fond of the term “cultural industries.” My instinct tells me that the realm from which the imagination, creativity and the arts originate is one free from the taint of merchandise— contrary to the meaning implied by the term above. From a practical viewpoint, however, creativity to whatever degree does not exclude the need to survive. Lucre may be filthy, but necessary.
I’m not too fond of the term “cultural industries.” My instinct tells me that the realm from which the imagination, creativity and the arts originate is one free from the taint of merchandise— contrary to the meaning implied by the term above. From a practical viewpoint, however, creativity to whatever degree does not exclude the need to survive. Lucre may be filthy, but necessary.
It is with the above in mind that I am associating Barbadian literature, in this article, with Tourism, our chief money-earner. Creative writers are not among the “eminent persons” invited to come up with ideas for the revival of the country’s economy, but this writer is suggesting that a literary tour of the designated heritage area could be a brilliant move, reaping financial benefits for all involved.
A literary walkabout tour could begin at “Woodville,” Chelsea Road, just off Bay Street. This is the home of Frank A. Collymore, artist, actor and editor of the seventy-year old Bim, our region’s foremost literary publication. Interestingly enough, and as if she sensed some such possibility all along, Ellice Collymore has left her husband’s work area untouched. The visitor is able to see first-hand where Colly put together the poetry and fiction of our now renowned Caribbean writers.
In addition, several of Colly’s drawings are still intact and provide the source of several of his humorous or satirical poems. In The Antlered Arrowmart, for example, the persona employs the most grandiose verse in courting his lady-love, only to end with the lines: “That’s how they wooed in days gone by/ When style adorned the simplest lie.” Colly’s satire also extends to the society in which he lived, as is seen in his more familiar “Ballad of an Old Woman.”
Within five minutes after leaving “Woodville,” we are at Pebbles beach, a second home, as it were, for the boys in George Lamming’s classic novel, In the Castle of My Skin. Lamming deals with the 1937 riots and the severe hardships resulting from class and race prejudice. But there is also humour in the novel. Young Bob, his head full of visions of brave King Canute, falls for a trick played by his friends:
Bob arched his back and we heard the syllables stumbling past his lips, “Sea, come no further. Sea, come no further.” His voice went out like the squeak of an insect to meet the roar of the wave. “Come no further,” said Bob, shivering with fear, “come no further.” The wave come forward like a thundering cloud, crashed and shot like a line of lightning over the footprints that were the only sign of our fugitive king. We collapsed in the grape vine, sick with laughter.
Just a bit further on, we take a right turn a hundred yards or so on to Beckles Road. Here is the “Almshouse” to which Austin “Tom” Clarke refers in his short story, “Leaving This Island Place.” We reflect again on the social stigma associated with such institutions. Contrasts abound: the young YMPC cricketers in dapper grey flannel and the ragged dying inmates, one of whom is the persona’s father; the canon and the pauper; the splendid blue-and-gold of the Harrison College tie and the stench and hopelessness of the Almshouse opposite.
Our next stop is a happier one: a “heritage” house with its walls painted in bright yellow. What catches the attention more readily is its rounded shape at the front, like an arm ready to embrace its visitors. This is the home of renowned poet, Edward Kamau Brathwaite, the most recent winner of the Frank Collymore Literary Endowment Award. Kamau was born and grew up in this house on Bay Street. The influence of the sea in his backyard seems inescapable and years later during his travels, he pens the following lines in his poem, “South:”
“… today I recapture the islands’/ bright beaches: blue mist from the ocean/ rolling into the fishermen’s houses./ By these shores I was born: sound of the sea/ came in at my window, life heaved and breathed in me/ then/ with the strength of that turbulent soil…We who are born of the ocean can never seek solace/ in rivers: their flowing runs on like our longing…
This book walk could be an informative and stimulating experience for locals and visitors, with individuals performing dramatic readings and re-enacting high points of the works. Plaques and other forms of memorabilia could be placed at each stop commemorating the writers. (To be continued)
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