It is upsetting to hear that he is not as strong now. Like Maurice Bishop, like my grandmother, I thought he was invincible. I thank goodness for his phenomenal mind, still so sharp.
In many ways, we owe the fact that we can debate concepts of neo-colonialism and identity to Lamming and other philosophers of his era. CLR James, Jomo Kenyatta, Martin Carter, George Padmore, Franz Fanon, Samuel Selvon, Aim? Cezaire, Lloyd Best, George Beckford – these are the names that shook the world of the 1940s and 50s by daring to challenge and interrogate the very system that had educated them and allowed them to be their great selves.
The titles of many of Lamming’s novels reveal the inner turmoil and constant questioning of the time. In the Castle of My Skin, Natives of My Person or Coming, Coming Home were required reading along with texts such as Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks, A Morning at the Office by Edgar Mittleholzer or Poems of Resistance by Martin Carter.
Historical context is important.
Many of these writers were born in-between the two world wars.
They grew up in a world dominated by colonial rule, where the memory of enslavement was still raw, and where the indentured labour of East Indians changed more than just the demographics of the region.
Artistes and intellectuals from the English-speaking Caribbean headed to England, seeking opportunity and relief from the struggles at home. “They soon began to address the issues of lack of housing, racial discrimination, the search for dignified jobs and the open hostility of their new hosts.” One writer singles out Selvon’s Lonely Londoners where his main character Moses acknowledges that “…this city powerfully lonely when you on your own.” All of this came to mind as I thought of our own context; how do we in the Caribbean and in TT approach identity and sense of self today? There is no longer the pain of missing home suffered by Lamming and others, nor the all-consuming quest for human rights of the 1960s, or the militancy of the 1970s. What then is our common motivator? I watched in horror this week as a young woman of TT heritage performed what she called limbo on the television show America’s Got Talent. Apart from the fact that the performance was done to a kind of American/Jamaican techno beat, the dance represented nothing of the grace that Julia Edwards injected into her performances.
Nothing of the essence of TT, nor of the African spirituality that underpins the dance.
Social media pundits gave a cautious thumbs-up to the documentary about TT aired on CNN a few days ago. Unfortunately, I heard interviewees use terms like “lower-class,” and obviously uncomfortable about the fact that we still battle issues of colour as it relates to social acceptance and mobility.
In the documentary, Muhammad Muwakil articulated the confusion of his generation.
His grandmother and others of Lamming’s era would have seen education as a sure means of personal advancement. This was repeated to the next generation, and the generation after that. But for him as a young artist, and for many others, the promise did not materialise.
Inequality has thus redefined our era, not just here but globally.
Culturally, it is the basis of the commercialisation and escapism found in too much of our art.
Lamming’s mind remains that of a warrior. So, when I see yet another video promoting our Carnival with techno music and wining bodies as the focus, I think what would Uncle George do? He would write.
D a r a Healy is a performance artist and founder of the NGO, the Indigenous Creative Arts Network – ICAN
