Barely a month passes in the English-speaking Caribbean without a reference on some stage or in some letter or political speech to the deleterious effects of colonialism upon us. The reference may go from an insinuation to a mild assertion to a screaming shout, but the basis of the moan is always the same: our failure, in whatever area is being discussed, is a consequence of the various traumas inflicted upon us during our time as part of the British Empire. I heard it again last week – the colonialism-crippled-us lament.
While the moan may have some merit, the degree is essentially overblown. In every one of such historical incursions, with one culture exerting pressure on another, the indigenous group invariably makes its own decisions as to what kind of transformation, or even alteration it approves. To look at the present state of Caribbean life is to see clearly that in almost every sense, as we came through the crucible, we took from colonialism what we wanted. We were exposed to traumas, yes, and deprivations – in the case of slavery, horrors – but we came through that ordeal, and along the way we were accepting what was attractive to us in the incursive culture and rejecting what was not.
Britain did not arrive here like some glacial moraine and inundate us. Certainly it was a powerful tide and some vestiges of it may remain, but they are only vestiges. Our general response, in every territory where the British, if I can borrow a British construction, displayed themselves, was to gradually turn our backs on some things while embracing others. Early on, for example, we decided that the dish known as bangers and mash, held in
