National Cemeteries on Land and Water in Barbados

“Honouring the Ancestors,“ Pebbles Beach, Barbados by Arnaldo James, July 2024

By Emilie “Zila” Jabouin

Last summer from July 19 to August 1, 2024, I was invited by New Waves! Institute and Sheena Rose Inc. to participate in a self-guided artistic residency. Originally, I was seeking to expand my work, The Release, about Afro-Caribbean women and people’s lived experiences with interrupting pregnancies, but the land called for something else. I had past training and guidance from Santee Smith, a Haudenosaunee artist based in Six Nations/Brampton, Canada whose approach asks that we sit with and in the land as a way to connect to it and understand its stories. I spent some of my days sitting under trees and familiarizing myself with the waves at Pebbles Beach in Bridgetown, and especially at Shark’s Hole in St. Philip’s parish.

Shark’s Hole, St. Philip, Barbados

During my first visit to Shark’s Hole, a comforting little alcove giving way to the Atlantic Ocean, I heard the sea roar and felt through observations during my many walks that there was a deep-seated anger waiting to burst and be acknowledged in Barbados. As a descendant of Haitian people, I was shocked at the visible markers of slavery around the island. I was overwhelmed particularly by the sight (and site) of Sam Lord’s Castle, now a hotel rebuilt by a Chinese company with an architecture that does not quite reflect the local culture and aesthetics. But what was imposing was the former castle and the vast land, mainly coveted for its beautiful beach that was part of the former plantation. Today, Barbados’ beaches and the hotel industry are the largest sources of income for its Gross Development Product (GDP), meaning that the island’s economy relies largely on its beaches and the tourism industry. Having a majority of African descendant Bajans working on these former plantations, which were rebaptized as hotels—and are for the most part still owned by descendants of these enslavers—sends chills throughout my body. On an island where the Reparations movement is very vocal and active at the political and governmental level, what does it take to shift historical power dynamics and break age-old tensions literally between black and white people?

“Remnants of a past,“ Pebbles Beach, Barbados, by Stephan Tyrel

The sea facing Sam Lord’s Castle was vast and imposing and in those moments of taking in the scenery and talking with local and international visual artist Sheena Rose, I understood that Africans in Barbados really were isolated during enslavement; and that escaping the claws of enslavers was most definitely a daunting task. No other island can be seen from Barbados’ shores, because of its geographical positioning that is farther out into the Atlantic than the other Eastern Caribbean islands. In addition, the landscape is very flat. Caves surely were a location where Africans sought to find a moment of repose and attempt to hide. But these locations were still relatively dangerous when the tide is high. I was humbled by these realizations, and felt deep respect for Bajans whose history and island I think are largely misunderstood amongst other Caribbean nations.

Sam Lorde’s Castle, St. Philip, Barbados

I was then called to explore a piece about honouring those who died or survived slavery and the Middle Passages, through my research, readings about Barbados’ history, discussions with people, moments of listening to the space, observations of how people interacted, being open to conversations with Sheena and her family, attending some events.

Although reminders of the enslavement period are so prevalent on the island, few people seemed to want to talk about it at all. Understandably so. It is a painful history and its structures do not seem to have shifted as much as one would like to think. My performance, “We Loud with Quiet,“ (in reference to Bajans’ strategic political and social use of silence as a weapon), took place at Pebbles Beach in Bridgetown. Through the work, I sought to witness the ancestors and acknowledge the violence they faced and the ways in which they were forgotten, including the fact that Pebbles Beach was a port where slave ships docked, where bodies were thrown over board and where people had been forcibly drowned for slave traders to collect insurance money. I started to think about this beach and potentially other beaches on the island and elsewhere in the Caribbean as national cemeteries—locations where people can come to mourn and pay their respects. Thinking this way drastically changed the way I now think of Barbados—too often described through the guise of a touristic paradise. But at what cost? And can we be at peace in Barbados in other ways? Dream Barbados through a different dimension?

“Resting Souls,“ Pebbles Beach, Barbados, by Arnaldo James

This history is devastating, but what I could offer was to move with the waves, dance, and make some form of acknowledgement in the water. Yanvalou is a Haitian folk rhythm and dance that signifies “supplications.” It is a dance of welcome and a water rhythm that originates from the Savalou region of Northern Benin. The movements which mimic the rhythm of waves or any life cycle makes one’s body dance to the rhythm of water. It is a healing dance, one that balances the vibrations of our body to a levelling ebb and flow, to a kind of clearing, and cleansing. My performance sought to acknowledge those who experienced the Middle Passages and raised many emotions in my audience that day. The following day, I went to Shark’s Hole with Sheena and the sea was calm. So calm almost as to say, “thank you for acknowledging us. You have brought some peace.” Though this might sound skeptical, Sheena also expressed this thought out loud.

Places and open spaces are never empty. They carry weight, warmth, stories, worries, violence, concerns, hope, and peace. And so, before heading to the airport on the day of my departure, I stopped at an actual cemetery, one established by enslaved people who lived on the Newton plantation nearby. They had created a burial ground where they practiced their traditional ways of honouring the dead. The historical information presented at its entrance explained that some of the Africans living on the plantation village were buried with their traditional dress and items they came with from Africa to Barbados. As I walked through the sacred grounds, and finally sat under a tree, the land spoke to me. This was a place of overwhelming peace. It is possible despite the horrors of enslavement to live, be and rest in peace. The Newton cemetery was a testament to that and proof that healing was possible: a true example of what liberation can look like maybe in life, but surely in death.

“Asé,” Pebbles Beach, Barbados, by Arnaldo James

I am ever so grateful to Barbados and the many Bajans I met and worked with during my residency. Thank you for the sharing so much with me during my stay.

Asé, Ayibobo!

“Manifesting,” Pebbles Beach, Barbados, by Arnaldo James

N.B. Today, the sacred grounds of the Newton cemetery are being threatened by developers. But as I learned from these past souls, agency, action, and choice are always an option. To learn more you can follow, contribute to and sign the petition here.