Celebrating Bermuda’s Cultural Identity

After decades of neglecting the island’s heritage as part of its hospitality product, Bermuda is belatedly — and aggressively — promoting cultural tourism one of the Government Cultural officers told a recent international conference.

In her presentation entitled “In the Heads of Our People: Tradition-Bearers and Cultural Tourism”, Dr. Kim Dismont Robinson told delegates at the seventh International African Diaspora Heritage Trail conference in Nova Scotia that Bermuda had come to recognise the value of celebrating its cultural identity. She said showcasing the island’s heritage not only served to enhance the island’s tourism product — encouraging vacationers to go “beyond beaches”, as she put it — but also fostered a sense of national identity among Bermudians.

“Well, it just so happens that Bermuda’s tourism industry was first developed as a serious product following World War II, at a time when Bermuda was still a segregated society,” she said. “In contrast, the Department of Cultural Affairs where I now work wasn’t established until the mid-1980s.

“No small wonder, then, that culture and tourism had not historically been a natural marriage in Bermuda: what now seems like an inane debate about whether Bermuda even had a culture was only definitively put to rest in 2001 when we were invited by the Smithsonian to participate in their annual Folklife festival.”

Dr. Dismont Robinson suggested the island had suffered from something of an inferiority complex regarding its culture because the role played by black Bermudians in defining the modern Bermudian identity had traditionally been given short shrift.

“The reason doubt existed is because so much of Bermuda’s culture is born of the creative genius of black Bermudians in a place that historically has not respected the contributions of black Bermudian,” she said. “Our crafting of cedar; our maritime skills; our masonry and architectural genius in the construction of our limestone houses; the infectious rhythm and complicated footwork of the Gombey dance; the cadence of our accent,

“We could not imagine that people from abroad would be interested in who we are because we were not interested in who we are.”

Dr. Dismont Robinson said the island’s history and culture wasn’t taught in schools when her mother was growing up and was seldom celebrated outside the classrooms, either.

“In fact, the pervasive sense that people, commodities, and concepts from ‘away’ are by definition superior to the local version of these things is something that has not entirely died,” she said. “It reflects a kind of national self-esteem problem where even now, when the mind knows better, the heart still feels that tug of inadequacy.”

Actor Danny Glover Narrates A Documentary On Bermuda’s Africa Diaspora Heritage Trail

The Nova Scotia International African Diaspora Heritage Trail Conference was dedicated to cultural tourism initiatives and honouring African culture and heritage throughout the world during 2011, the United Nations International Year for People of African Descent.

The three-day September meeting — which drew delegates from around the world — was focussed on preserving, promoting and protecting sites that are important to the global narrative of people and culture of African descent.

Former Bermuda Tourism Minister the late David Allen first proposed the concept of the African Diaspora Heritage Trail [ADHT] as a unified, cross-border cultural tourism initiative to educate visitors, enhance economic viability of African Diaspora countries and conserve the essence of African descent culture and history.

This initiative was intended, in part, to build long-term relationships between Bermuda, the Caribbean, the African nations and North and South America.

The African Diaspora Heritage Trail was launched as a self-guided tour in Bermuda in 2001, with the Sally Bassett statue in the Cabinet Office grounds [pictured at top] the latest addition to the United Nations Educational, Scientific & Cultural Organisation-recognised initiative. Bermuda hosted the first International African Diaspora Trail conference in 2002.

Then Tourism Minister Patrice Minors led the Bermuda delegation to this year’s annual conference in Halifax and also addressed the summit.

Dr. Dismont Robinson’s Full Speech Appears Below:

Good morning, and thanks for attending this session entitled “Lessons from Bermuda and the Caribbean”.

I speak as a member of the African Diaspora Heritage Trail board of directors, but the reason I was asked to become a board member is likely because of my day job as a Cultural Officer for the Bermuda Government.

In this workshop designed to discuss strategies to move “beyond beaches”, it’s important as always to consider the history of a place to figure out how we arrived here.

In the case of Bermuda, although it seems obvious enough on the surface, it really is quite remarkable to think about how the beaches of an island could ever be seen as being entirely divorced and dissociated from the people who inhabit them. I mean the people who inhabit them all the time, including off-season. The natives, or as we in Bermuda prefer to be called, the “locals”. It’s a rather peculiar sleight of hand, if you really think about it.

Well, it just so happens that Bermuda’s tourism industry was first developed as a
serious product following World War II, at a time when Bermuda was still a segregated society.

In contrast, the Department of Cultural Affairs where I now work wasn’t established until the mid 1980s. No small wonder, then, that culture and tourism had not historically been a natural marriage in Bermuda: what now seems like an inane debate about whether Bermuda even had a culture was only definitively put to rest in 2001 when we were invited by the Smithsonian to participate in their annual Folklife festival.

The reason doubt existed is because so much of Bermuda’s culture is born of the creative genius of black Bermudians in a place that historically has not respected the contributions of black Bermudians: our crafting of cedar; our maritime skills; our masonry and architectural genius in the construction of our limestone houses; the infectious rhythm and complicated footwork of the Gombey dance; the cadence of our accent.

We could not imagine that people from abroad would be interested in who we are because we were not interested in who we are.

It wasn’t taught in schools when my mother was growing up, and it was seldom celebrated outside the classrooms either. In fact, the pervasive sense that people, commodities, and concepts from “away” are by definition superior to the local version of these things is something that has not entirely died. It reflects a kind of national self-esteem problem where even now, when the mind knows better, the heart still feels that tug of inadequacy.

This is not unique; these are the scars that we as a people frequently bear, having lived in the shadows of slavery, colonialism, and segregation; it’s a familiar story throughout the modern history of the Diaspora.

Before I was a cultural officer, I was a writer, obsessively concerned — as most Caribbean writers and artists are — with the business of self-representation: the simultaneous movement that the late great Rex Nettleford described as the “inward stretch, outward reach” that defines the process of digging deep in order to authentically express the true landscape of our interior: our interior individual selves and the interiority of the communities that have shaped us beyond all reckoning.

This concern with self-representation followed me into my career as a cultural officer, and the projects that I develop have been devised with certain key concerns in mind.

First and foremost, the issue of authenticity: when we create a programme or published a text, to what extent are the individuals involved recognized as “tradition-bearers”? In other words, is the person who is telling the story or responsible for the information recognised as an expert by a loose group of people who could essentially be termed our “council of elders”?

Secondly, the issue of accessibility and audience: to what extent can Bermudians as well as visitors benefit from the material? How well have we walked the line between showcasing and commodifying?

Thirdly, the issue of evolution: How do we ensure that the celebration and commemoration of our heritage moves beyond a static representation of the past into something dynamic and contemporaneously relevant?

The first issue, that of authenticity, requires a measure of sensitivity. The second issue, that of accessibility, requires discernment. Handling these two matters well
essentially ensure the quality of the heritage product. But it is the third issue, that of evolution, which requires the marshalling of creativity. Without giving attention to the material as an evolving product that is meant to appeal to people within a specific moment in history, we risk losing our history and traditions again.

If you don’t believe me, consider the status of your favourite songs from the 1960s recorded on 8-track tapes. The music is still fantastic, but I think it’s safe to wager that you’re listening to it these days on your Ipod.

With this in mind, the development of African heritage sites requires thinking about the location of some of those sites as conceptual, rather than simply considering the areas that can be signaled with a statue and a plaque. There is a Haitian saying that the loas, the gods, reside in heads of their people. People of African descent have lost so much through forced migration, genocide and theft that who we are, like our Haitian brothers, largely resides in our heads and it’s my assertion that these intangible cultural repositories are precisely the areas that need to be developed in the celebration of our heritage.

The Department of Community and Cultural Affairs in Bermuda is launching a Folklife Documentary Series next week. The first film focuses on tradition-bearer Ronnie Chameau – a Bermudian woman from St. David’s with African and Amerindian roots.

She is best known for the way that she has converted natural materials, specifically
banana leaves, coconut palm matting, and palmetto leaves, into dolls and other works of art. Ronnie has an apprentice now who she is training; but she herself had to learn by dissecting an existing doll and teaching herself through trial and error.

A tourist can come to Bermuda and visit the Carter House Museum and see the dolls that Ronnie has made. However, in filming and marketing this documentary, the tradition of banana doll making, a part of Bermuda’s intangible cultural heritage, is preserved both laterally and vertically.

The DVD becomes a companion piece to the museum display where not only do tourists better appreciate the artist; they also learn about the skills set necessary to create this work of art. Lastly but certainly most importantly, a project like this creates multiple points of entry for Bermudian students to learn: all 12 hours of interview footage are transcribed and made available via our digital archive to any student or teacher who wishes to learn more; the documentary not only gives the background of the artist, but also follows Ronnie’s journey from her studio to the banana patch as she explains and shows what materials she uses, what material she cannot use and why; and step-by-step instruction on how to make a doll.

For most modern Bermudian children, even the more old-fashioned ones who would actually be interested in making a banana doll, it is the medium of film that makes this palatable -– not the visit to the important, yet static, museum of Carter House. Lastly, all the people involved in the making of this film were young Bermudians -– as the director, I was the oldest of the bunch at 36.

The producer, videographer, sound technician, and music supervisor are all Bermudians between the ages of 25 and 35. Not only did this project create an opportunity for them to generate revenue through working in the culture industry, but they learned a heck of a lot about Bermuda that they didn’t know before the filming, and that instilled a whole new level of pride in what they do and who they are. This documentary is but one of an ongoing series, nine of which are currently in postproduction stages, recording the traditions of our community

I’ll finish the formal part of my talk with a Bermudian story that has its roots in our history of struggle and resistance. Sally Bassett was an enslaved woman owned by the estate of Mr. Dickinson of Southampton. On June 1, 1730, she was tried on the “suspicion of poisoning several persons” including the mariner Thomas Foster who owned her granddaughter Beck, his wife Sarah Foster, and Nancy who was another household bondswoman.

It was said that Sally supplied Beck with the poison that Nancy later discovered in the wall of the kitchen outlet. Although Sally denied that any sentence should be passed against her, stating that she “never deserved it”, she was later burned at the stake for the offence.

She was valued at one pound, four shillings and six pence at the time of her sentencing. Legend says that our national flower, the bermudiana, bloomed from her ashes. Local lore suggests that it was extremely hot when Sally was conveyed to the place of execution; even now, some Bermudians refer to the scorching afternoon heat as “a real Sally Bassett day”.

The story of Sally Bassett does not end there. In 2009, the Government of Bermuda under the leadership of former Premier, Tourism Minister and ADHT chair Dr. Ewart Brown erected a statue on the grounds of the Cabinet office in memory of Sally Bassett. Her story has been explored through historical research and theatrical productions; and the statue has become one of the latest additions to the Bermuda trail.

I conclude with this story for two reasons — for one, to show the ways that a story
– more than the archival details of history alone — can capture the imagination of a people and become a symbol representing so much more.

Secondly, it illustrates the ways in which the development of an African Diaspora Heritage Trail is best done as a partnership between government, cultural organisations, historians, and artists since each sector plays a key role in getting to the heart of our most important stories, and getting those stories right.

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Category: All, History