Truly Almost Bahamian

A lot has changed in all of our lives, the norms and traditions and even our human condition. Nothing is surprising. Nothing is safe. Little is sacred. Sex, music, education. Nothing is not entertainment.

How's this for change? Drug plane at Highbourne Cay, 1983 and 2011.
Top photo: Stolen from someone's Facebook ages ago; Anna Murry, dis look familiar?
Bottom photo: Spencer C. Higgs

But it's all rather poignant when I come back, and wonders I if it's the same for all: Bahamians abroad and those who lie low at home. (Though, this proverbial change of tide has proven that Bahamians do little that constitutes lying low. Indeed, this sweeping change in local paradigm is less apposite as a 'changing tide' metaphor, but more one of a 'rising sea level'.)

Nassau, What Happened? is certainly an interesting insight to a few Bahamians' view of this change. How have we aged? Us, our country? I personally cannot say with any estimated honesty that it's been all for good. You there, reading this (yes, all four of you...) what Bahamian traditions do you uphold? We actually have quite an extensive history, and an interesting one, too. Do you know it?

photo admittedly tiefed from: www.playle.com

I have to thank Vanessa, Shelagh, and Robert Pritchard for having me aboard to watch some sculling races hosted by Sands Beer. Watching people propel themselves across the shallows of Montagu Bay foreshore with the just the figure eight movement of an oar snug on the stern of a open, wooden dingy was something I hadn't experienced before, except on technicoloured, converted-slides of old VHS tapes. As I looked around, sloops were racing in the distance, a fleet of Lasers was racing out of the harbour, and there were boats just hanging about in idle float at Montegu since the days of the Fort Montagu Beach Hotel (for this reference, I have to again thank Robert Pritchard). It was, as the Sands slogan painted on the stern of each sculling dingy read, truly Bahamian. But the smiles on the faces of the skippers portrayed nothing other than nostalgic joy for doing something which, by loss of necessity, they had not done for the plus part of two decades. And I wonder, will what we now consider a usual Bahamian past time be left and forgotten in the succeeding ages and eras? What are the current usual Bahamian past times? Those not almost completely influenced by Americanisation? How many people would say KFC is their favourite Bahamian food? Not many, I hope. Mine certainly is conch salad (though a nice boil fish or sheep tongue souse is equally delectable).

Nostalgia effect; new photo made to look old. Photo: Spencer C. Higgs

I'm drawn now to the idyllic lyric of Jimmy Buffett's island ode, One Particular Harbour, in particular the chanting Tahitian outro: Ua pau te maitai no te fenua/Re zai noa ra te era o te mitie
Which, translated, sings: Bounty of the land is exhausted/But there's still abundance on the sea

(I'd like to thank the expansive wisdom of Wikipedia for that translation.) And while my inner pessimist loudly argues that the sea is likewise as exhausted as the land, maybe it's not. Not now, at least. I can still get my conch salad. I don't mean to end with such a banal sentiment, but change is inexorable, it's the surrendering of the good stuff that must be avoided. Basically, bey, dunn take 'way ma boil fish, ma conch salad, or I ga have ya tongue in sauce tonight!