On Raisins and the Sun

by Nicolette Bethel

I'm sitting in Starbucks, listening to a jazz rendition of "Sponger Money". I must admit it sounds good. And it feels good to hear an international take on a Bahamian song. But I'm also wondering a couple of things.

The first one is what the thing is called. Is it called "Sponger Money" on the label, or does it have a different title -- Spanish, maybe, or something unrelated in English?

The second one is who the song is said to be by. Now I don't know the answer to that one, as I have not done the research necessary to find out who wrote it. I can hazard a guess -- perhaps it was Charles Lofthouse, who wrote several songs in the first part of the twentieth century. More likely, it was an anonymous person, maybe a man on a sponge boat, or a woman clipping sponges on the wharf. I do know of at least one person who arranged the song: my father, E. Clement Bethel.

The third one (correct, this is a Bahamian "couple"), intimately connected to the first two, is who's getting the royalties for the song.

Now I know (as well as one can know these things) that the song is Bahamian. It makes sense, after all; sponging was a major Bahamian industry for the better part of a century, from the mid 1800s to the late 1930s, and the song tells the story of the industry. The version I know was the one we used to sing when I was growing up:

Sponger money never done, we got sponger money
Sponger money is a lotta fun, we got sponger money
Laugh gal laugh
Laugh gal laugh
Laugh gal laugh
We got sponger money

But the question I have to ask is this. Even though the song is Bahamian, what Bahamian is getting the revenue from the song?

It's a serious question, and one that I have to ask, given the kind of debate that followed the postponement of The Bahamas' hosting of CARIFESTA from 2008 to 2012. That debate, and the general dismissal of culture in general (and, by extension, of our culture in particular) made me realize that most of us -- from the man and woman in the street to the politicians in the highest offices -- are missing the point when it comes to cultural discussions. It made me realize, once again, that our society is locked into a mentality that is jammed firmly into the third quarter of the twentieth century, and that will hinder us not only from developing in the 21st century global economy, but also from maintaining our current economic position as the economic leader in the Caribbean.

It's a mentality that is regressive on a number of fronts. In the first place, it continues to imagine -- despite ample evidence to the contrary -- that culture is dispensable, something that you do in your spare time if you can afford it, but not something that has any right to exist on its own. This is the mentality that has led to the removal of music, dance and art programmes from primary schools, permitted adults to regard creative activities as optional, not central, elements in children's development, allowed teachers to divorce the use of language from thought itself, and criminalized self-expression. It's also the mentality that suggests that the enjoyment of life is a waste of time, and that having a unique perspective on the world is sin.

It's a mentality, in short, that creates a fertile breeding ground for negative activity. By stifling the ability of people to respond creatively to their environment -- whether that environment is pleasant or difficult -- it leaves them with only the option of a negative response. When you have no room to contemplate or create, you will fight.

And so our attitude towards culture is hurting us in several ways. On the one hand, it's rendering us less competitive on the economic front. While we continue to invest in things that became obsolete twenty years ago -- in sun, sand and sea, in gambling, in resort-based tourism, in cruise ship arrivals -- our neighbours are diversifying their tourist economies and creating experiences for their visitors and their citizens alike that will bring the same people back again and again.

On the other hand, our dismissal of things cultural is hurting us socially. Not only does it mean that the vacuum that is "Bahamian" society of the 2000s has left us vulnerable to invasions from north and south alike; but it also encourages the development of a criminal sub-culture. Young people who have no sense of self, no outlet for their frustration, and no way of affirming their existence in a country that ignores them will inevitably resort to violence and anti-social behaviour.

And this should be no surprise to us. After all, Langston Hughes, the great African-American poet, put it in fairly simple terms. What happens to the dream deferred? he asked.

Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

Comments

[dadon]

BTW, The Sidney Poitier movie is my best movie next to To Sir With Love. I couldn't agree more. I enjoy talking to family members as old as 80+ about Andros and life there. How long it took to sail from Fresh Creek to Nassau, etc., etc.. We have forgotten a lot since the late 60's. It's almost like we are not proud of what made us Bahamian. Why do we not celebrate our past. And I'm not talking about the over-used, over-exposed celebration of Junkanoo.

[Bob Knaus]

The poor have plenty of time for culture, because when you're poor your time isn't worth much so why not spend it on culture once your have enough to eat and a place to sleep?

The well-off have plenty of time for culture, because when you're well-off it doesn't take much time to pay for enough to eat and a place to sleep so why not spend the rest of your time on culture?

It's the people making the leap from poor to well-off who don't have time for culture. Every hour they spend on culture is an hour they could spend bettering their financial situation.

True, in leaping for the brass ring, they may leave their culture behind. Hopefully something as rich and rewarding as what they left behind awaits them, once they finally reach their goal.

Or perhaps, a few of the old-timers will stay in their islands of poverty, and when the brass-ringers have done leaping, they will sell them the old culture at new prices.

[larry smith]

Is culture dispensable?

A common definition of culture is: the customs, arts, social institutions and achievements of a particular nation - so how can it be dispensable?

Presumably, you are asking why Bahamian art, drama, literature, dance and music are so undervalued and ignored in popular society these days.

But don't we have the fish fry? A Bahamian culinary experience (if you can overlook the garbage). And don't we have the multi-million-dollar, taxpayer-funded, rat-infested flea market? And don't we have the publicly-funded National Art Gallery?

You should know whether music, dance and art have been removed from our schools. Has it been replaced with Junkanoo? Isn't that our mono-culture?

We do subsidise casinos, as we also subsidise the flea market and Junkanoo and the art gallery. What else should we subsidise, and what is the rationale for doing so?

What is your prescription for using 'culture' to combat our social ills?

And if the political directorate, our financial resources and the social elite were not up to staging
a mini-Olympics like Carifesta, whose fault is it?

Why is there such a disinterest in, and disconnect with, authentic Bahamian cultural expressions? And what should, or could, be done to change that?

[nicob]

Larry, Bob, whomever,

Culture is neither dispensible nor something that the middle classes can afford to discard because they "choose" to leave their culture behind. The biggest lie ever told is that we should choose to invest in anything else other than our culture. Investing in our culture is investing in ourselves -- something that we in The Bahamas don't do. (These days, for some inexplicable reason, our governments prefer to get foreign people to do that investment for us. Excuse me while I roll on the floor laughing.)

Investment in culture, in ourselves, has the capacity to pay off faster than almost any other, in strictly economic terms; no other business I know of has the ability to make a profit, if managed right, in so short a time. (Our theatre production company has always broken even, starting from zero funds and ending up with some money in the bank at the end of a run or of a production.) In business terms, investing in culture is a risk; but it's a risk that pays off faster than most. The quicker we learn that and separate it from our prejudices against culture as an expense we can do without, the better.

Why are we disconnected with authentic Bahamian cultural expressions? Because we believe the lie that our culture is dispensible. What we do about it, from the building of institutions that all real nations have (like libraries or theatres or schools or art) to the creation of an economy that sells our best selves, rather than our sand and our sea and somebody else's gambling parlours, is a matter of will, not ability. As long as we all choose oblivion over what we have/who we are as a nation, we lose -- in social terms, in criminal terms, in medical terms, and in economic terms.

I could go on, but I won't. This article about London's revenue from the Notting Hill Carnival is instructive.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/6960271.stm