The carnival atmosphere that surrounded political campaigning was known as “Partido Time.” Once in a while a presidential candidate would show up and speak in a language and using phrases that not many islanders understood the meaning of (at that time less than 10% of the 10,000 population in the Bay Islands had more than a sixth-grade education and a basic grasp of the Spanish language); the small Spanish settlements of Juticalpa, Spanish Town and Corozal were too small for politicians to be bothered with. “Partido Time” was a time associated with “rope,” free fried hog, beers, candidate caps and T-shirts. No one cared about politicians’ promises since they were rarely fulfilled.
Fast forward 40 years and the demographics have much changed. The population of 10,000 is now 100,000 and English-speaking Bay Islanders are quite probably in the minority, depending on who you talk to. Prior to the 1990s development boom, the majority of Bay Islanders were descendants of the second (Garifuna, 1797) and third (British via Cayman and Belize in the 1830s) permanent settlers of the islands (the first being the Pech, 400s to 1600s); beginning in the 1990s with the demand for skilled and unskilled labor, an influx of mainlanders came over, bought land, built communities and produced the first (second and now third) generation of English-speaking mainlanders with ID numbers beginning with 1101, 1102, 1103 and 1104.
They knew the language and the laws and brought with them strategies of land invasion. Their astuteness helped build large, well-run communities such as Barrio Los Fuertes, Policarpo, El Bight, Camponado and Mitch with voter blocks of around 10,000 in the large ones such as Policarpo (Sandy Bay) and Los Fuertes (French Harbour). Politicians now prioritize the Spanish-speaking communities during campaigns since this is where the voters are; English communities are now not the priority. A perfect example is the neglected island of St. Helena where, during the past eight years, it has not benefited from any municipal projects at all; the population recently turned their backs on political candidates during a primary election visit. The old Bay Islander dream of freedom from the mainland and indeed autonomy is fast dwindling, and if it is a distant possibility, it would now have to include the 1990s mainland settlers as equal partners.
While the population was growing exponentially over the last 30-odd years, so has development, and with it a concerning impact and risk to three facets of Bay Islands existence. First, the environment, where huge swaths of lush green hillside have been carved away by fly-by-night developers merely concerned with making a quick return and leaving.
Political leaders were given a bite, a mordida.
I was recently up in Camp Bay having a sandwich at a new cafe, and while waiting for my meal, I thumbed through a sales brochure that the developer had left there. One of the photographs showed an island which definitely was nowhere in the Bay Islands; closer examination revealed it to be Malapascua in the Philippines. It saddened me that a developer who has been welcomed here to do business had torn down acres of hillside only to dupe buyers into thinking Roatan was somewhere else. No love for the island at all, which is, I suppose, why the total destruction happened in the first place.
It is an unspoken secret that local political leaders were given a bite, a mordida, to turn a blind eye — leaders who would rather benefit from a few thousand dollars today and sell out their birthright for generations to come. If this keeps up, in another 10 years we will live in a dust bowl with no water resources.
The second impact is on the Anglo Bay Islander (Creole) culture, history and language. Unique in itself in as much as it has drawn from British (English, Scottish and West Indian in particular) culture as well as traditional Caribbean culture, it has actually come up with some contributions unique to these islands; the sweet dish “corn rice” is a perfect example. Sadly, the number of people who know how to make corn rice, a traditional “run down” or coconut bread from scratch, are few and far between. Young people nowadays are more attracted to mainland dishes like pollo chuco and tacos and are lured into eating fast-food fried chicken and pizza instead of preparing and eating traditional dishes and pastries.
Maypole and plait pole events are scarce and rarely observed or not done in the traditional way. Island calypso music using homemade instruments (washboard, spoon drums and handsaw with a bow) has disappeared completely. The pure Creole English spoken in the Bay Islands (which varies from community to community) is being watered down and in many cases pushed out and replaced by Spanish. According to Ross Graham, a linguist who wrote his Ph.D. thesis on Bay Islands English, the Creole spoken here is unique and worthy of preservation. I have been saddened on several occasions watching an interview on local news channels with a Creole (English) interviewer and another Creole — and they are speaking Spanish.
Honduranization of the Bay Islands is in full swing.
History is being neglected as well. I recently was dismayed to see that a developer had been allowed to build a road (cut and fill) right through the historic British fort at Augusta in Port Royal with no consideration for what lay beneath. Why were they given a permit to do this in the first place? This site and others in Port Royal and dotted around the islands are impressive and must be preserved. I maintain that the Bay Islands have a deeper history and far more historical places of interest than our northern sister islands, the Caymans.
The Garifuna, it is worth mentioning, have been more resilient in preserving their culture, mainly due to the priority they place on ancestral traditions as well as the strength within the Punta Gorda community and limited mixing with mainlanders and English-speaking Creoles. Punta Gorda’s main street has been transformed into a tourist mecca and a textbook example of sustainable tourism and opportunities through cultural and historical preservation; a few miles east in Pandyville, the English Creoles have a golden opportunity to do something similar if only they were given a hand and pointed in the right direction.
The third impact is the lack of loyalty to the local economy. Significant projects on the Bay Islands are being designed and built by engineering and construction firms from the mainland that have operating permits from mainland municipalities, while local firms that have long-established permits are being squeezed — some would say extorted — for unsustainable fees and taxes.
Local authorities, by turning a blind eye to mainland firms coming in, are encouraging an influx of firms that have no affinity for the island and see it only as fertile ground ready to exploit, while established island companies will always be here and have a vested interest in sustainable development. When charities come knocking at doors looking for donations, it’s the local firms that are always around to chip in. The mainland firms support mainland charities and social projects.
It is fitting to conclude that the Bay Islands are at a turning point environmentally. Creole-English Bay Islanders, as a group, are in crisis and oblivious to what is going on around them. The Honduranization of the Bay Islands is in full swing, and without knowing it, our local government leaders in all four municipalities and in Congress are facilitating the decline of a culture. We witness the paving of the way to destruction of our environment and the gradual erasure of a culture and its history. It is now imperative that voters get proactively involved.
Here is a list of ways the voting public can get involved:
There needs to be action by us, the voters, by asking questions of political leaders and holding them accountable. We need to ask them what the procedure is for developers to acquire projects and to hold them accountable for making sure projects are managed correctly with appropriate oversight measures in place. Each community council or patronato should be able to have the confidence to question why apparently damaging projects are being allowed.
Political candidates should be asked what they plan to do about stimulating economic growth for businesses and entrepreneurs wanting to start small tourism concerns such as the Creole village in Pandyville mentioned above. They should also be asked what they will do about reviving and preserving the Creole way of life through workshops and incentives to bring it to where Punta Gorda and the Garifuna are.
Voters need to get out of the partisan politics mindset that is sinking us into a swamp of conformism. Same old, same old will not save us from ourselves. Vote for the candidate — even if he or she is not well known — if they answer the tough questions with reasonable and logical answers. They are the candidate.
Citizens need to put fear aside and start pushing back against unfair local and mainland taxation and injustice.
There are tangible things that political leaders can do:
Seek and listen to advice. Gather a think tank of experience and ask them what concerns them and how they would go about addressing it. Put culture, history and local commerce as priorities. Create five-, 10- and 20-year work plans with clear objectives.
Ensure sound, consistent teaching of Bay Islands history through collaboration with regional education representatives.
Appoint a cultural city manager and a historical city councilor as full-time employees and give them the support they need.
Make a pledge to put the love of the islands before any personal or financial benefit by thinking about what sort of place we will leave for our children and generations to come.
Reach out to international nonprofits that have not only funding available but also expertise for sustainable tourism projects.
Join forces with other Bay Islands municipalities to lobby for more autonomy from the central government.
It’s not too late yet, but let us look further than the end of our noses and plan for the next generations so that they inherit a Bahamas rather than a Haiti.
