By Nicolette Bethel
In 1833, the British Parliament passed an Act to abolish slavery in the British Empire. As of August 1, 1834,
all slaves throughout the empire were to become free to some degree —
if they were under the age of six, they would become free immediately,
but if they were over six, they were to be apprenticed to their former
masters. Apprenticeship was finally abolished on August 1, 1838.
It
is partly for this reason that Emancipation Day is a holiday in The
Bahamas. It is a holiday throughout the former British slave colonies of
the Caribbean as well — and the reason that Jamaica,
for example, chose it as its Independence Day. We don’t celebrate our
holiday on August 1, although we remember the date; rather, we have
chosen to make the nearest Monday the holiday.
Here,
then, together with hot weather, rain, and hurricanes, the summer
months bring the twin holidays that commemorate our freedom. As a
nation, we have the opportunity of remembering how far we have come, of
honouring our ancestors who — slave and master alike — were dehumanized
by the institution of slavery and indentureship.
So far, though, we have not made the most of this opportunity. Oh, we celebrate all right. We have a Junkanoo parade on Independence Day, and two Junkanoo parades on the August Holiday weekend. We have cook-outs (what better way to party than eating?) But that’s about as far as it goes. Indeed, considering the amount of time we spend speaking of such things, it’s possible to imagine that if a Bahamian child didn’t grow up watching American television, they might be surprised to learn that Bahamians were once ever slaves.
And yet.
As
I’ve written before, slavery is not over in the Caribbean. I’m not
talking about the kind of “slavery” that people like to raise when
making these kinds of statements — a “slavery” that assumes that every
Black Bahamian is subordinate to and poorer than every White Bahamian,
that assumes that all Whites were slave owners and all Blacks slaves,
that believes that Black Bahamian slaves were captured in African
jungles and transported to The Bahamas on slave ships — an image of
slavery that has more to do with history as outlined in the ABC
miniseries Roots than our own story, which is far more complicated and
interesting.
No.
I’m talking about the kind of slavery Bob Marley recognized in his own
people when he wrote and performed his “Redemption Song” — the mental
slavery that continues to dominate our society.
What
do I mean by mental slavery? It manifests itself in a number of
different ways. There are the obvious — the concept that Bahamians
aren’t able to do things very well, and the resultant habit of looking
elsewhere for models and expertise; the preference for hiring
consultants from abroad to give advice that Bahamian experts have
already considered and rejected; the willingness to privilege outside
plans for development over local ones; the general contempt for anything
home-grown, and the overconsumption of anything from across the sea.
But
as common as these tendencies are, I’m thinking of other, smaller, more
insidious actions and habits that show the residue of slavery in our
everyday lives.
The
biggest one is the apparent reluctance of the ordinary employee ever to
make a decision. Decisions, you see, require that one take
responsibility for those decisions, and if one is wrong, one gets in
trouble. The result — particularly in the civil service, but not only
there — is that for too many people, there is only one way of doing
something.
How
many of us have found ourselves in a situation where we make a request
that is unusual, that takes a salesperson out of her comfort zone, that
surprises her, forces her to think?
The result: roadblock.
Another
one, though, that I get to see often in my line of work, is the
tendency of many people who are possessed with a good idea to seek first
and foremost the kingdom of Government Money.
Despite the fact that we live in a society which welcomes millions of
tourists every year, in which money flows like water, in which Bahamians
as well as visitors are willing to spend good cash on things they
enjoy, we seem to believe that our enterprise must first and foremost be
supported by handouts from the public treasury.
A
third is the paralysis that I also witness, as a manager of a
department and as a teacher of students, among people who seem to be
waiting for someone to tell them What To Do. They can’t — or won’t — act
unless they get an order or a clearance from above.
All of these are examples of the mental slavery from which we continue to need emancipation.
Emancipation, you see, only begins with the awarding of political freedom. It is true that on August 1, 1834,
slaves were given the gift of themselves; they were able, for the first
time since their enslavement, to own their bodies, their loved ones,
their offspring, and their possessions.
But the residue of slavery
lingers still. The political and physical emancipation of the slaves
didn’t mean that there was a corresponding psychic and mental freedom
that came with it. That has to be worked on.
So it’s that time of the year again; it’s our freedom time. Massa’s
long gone. It’s time for us to realize that every West Indian who refuses
to make a decision, every Bahamian who seeks a handout, every West
Indian who looks outside our region for validation, every Bahamian who
believes that what we do isn’t good enough, is in need of emancipation
still.
It’s time we emancipate ourselves from mental slavery. None but ourselves can free our minds.
