Jounen Kweyol

It’s strange to see white people in my village. People on ships and those staying in expensive hotels venture out and participate in Jounen Kweyol. As I sit on my balcony, I am watching some of them walk down my street. There are two men strolling down the middle of the street. One has a camera with a lens stretching longer than my forearm. He stops to take a picture of the street scene. The picture he will take home includes men and women dressed in Creole colors, food booths, bars stocked with local rum and Pitons, as well as booths with crafts and Jounen Kweyol memorabilia.

Jounen Kweyol translated means Creole Day. It’s a day when people reflect on their heritage and their culture – the food they eat, the drinks they make, how they cook, the music and their dance, and the way they survived so many years ago. It’s a day they reflect on their rich history and the culture that has been handed down generation by generation. It may look like just another Caribbean party, but it’s not, and to many, it’s an important day of reflection; to some Saint Lucian’s, however, it’s a party.

Just as I was about to walk through the streets of my village to take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the day, my landlady, Elizabeth, came out and said, “Are you leaving?” I responded that I was going to take a walk to see what Jounen Kweyol had to offer. She asked me if I would wait as she was preparing a traditional Kweyol breakfast for me. I readily complied. A few minutes later she brought up a tray and explained each food: Co Co Tea made from the Co Co Beans, boiled with water and cinnamon, and mixed with a small amount of milk and a lot of sugar; the small wedge is Cassava, a type of potato which they add sugar to and cook on a large black iron surface; bakes, a traditional bread sometimes filled with tuna, salt fish or cheese; There was a container with tomato, salt fish and watercress.

Early Days
The first European name for Saint Lucia was El Falcon and its first inhabitants were the Kalinago – Juannaloa. – now called Hewanorra. Hewanorra is the name of the International Airport on the island. The Kalinago were those whom Columbus found in today’s Caribbean region. Archaeologists have dated their earliest presence to around 5,000 BC.

The Arawak people’s presence is believed to have a history of some 2,000 years. They were thought to canoe from the South American mainland. They did not venture inland and it may have been because they thought the forest was full of wild animals or evil spirits. They were known as Ciboney, Guatanabey, or Arawaks.

The Kalingo culture is rich in ceremony and ritual. They had a deep respect for environment. According to tradition, one was not born a Kalina, it was an honor earned. After a long, trying and painful initiation, one became a man, a true Kalina. They taught other islanders the art of survival. Their armed struggle kept the Spanish away and their resistance retarded French and British settlements, as well as the introduction of the plantation` system to the Windward Islands of Dominica, St. Vincent and Grenada. It also reduced the extent to which slave regimes were established on the small islands, as compared to Barbados and Martinique.

The Kalinago vanished leaving hardly a trace. Places where they lived were buried under bush. They would remain there, hidden, until archaeologists started to uncover them in 1950s.

According to the archives in the village library, my village is rich in history. There is evidence of eight to nine settlements found by archaeologists – cooking tools, pots, ornaments have been uncovered.

Many Arawaks were attracted to the rivers of fish and crayfish, the safety to anchor boats, and the fresh wind the blows from the sea – everything needed is in one place.

Women spent days in vegetable patches grating cassava or making clay pots. They painted pots with dyes from plants. They gathered and dried grasses and wove mats and baskets. Men fished in the river with bows and arrows or collected crabs and oysters

Slaves and Sugar Plantations
Sugar cane was introduced by the French around 1764. Slaves were brought from Africa to work on the plantations. By 1775 one-sixth of Saint Lucia was under cultivation and the population had increased to 851 whites, 233 free colored and 6,381 African slaves. Sugar was a major crop. By 1790, the population was 22,000. Whites accounted for only 2,170 and free colored 1,636.

My village had 84 estates, which made it one of islands most important agricultural areas. The island was never a successful plantation colony. Whenever the island changed hands between the British and French, the slaves took the opportunity to escape into the impenetrable forest from where they were reluctant to emerge.

Some descendants of those slaves now own and farm their own land. Ruins of old factories and water wheels can still be seen as a reminder that sugar was once as important to this village as it was to the rest of the island, as important as bananas are today.

Traditions
The Kweyol language is African-French dialect. They are very proud of their bi-lingual culture. In church I’ve heard them give praise to God for giving them this gift. Music is adopted from French planters. National musical instruments are the drum, the quartok, the chac chac and the baba, although the lead instrument has always been the violin which until recently was made of wild breadfruit wood. Music and dance is important on the island. During Jounen Kweyol traditional music is prevalent, but you can also hear country western and reggae coming from load speakers on almost every corner in the village.

When asked, many say this village houses the “new poor” on the island. Most people in the village are either farmers or fishermen. I spoke with one of the fishermen who said it is common to catch marlin. They catch them on these small fishing boats. They use only heavy fishing line and spears to catch them – there are no poles. There fishing methodology is much like it was hundreds of years ago. He said it’s common to catch four or five of them and tie them to the boat, dragging them behind to shore. There are people waiting by the shore until they are cut, weighed and ready to be sold. After selling to those waiting at the docks, they pack up their fish and put them into large plastic containers. With a large shell in hand they go through the village blowing the shell like a horn to announce fresh fish are for sale.

Sunday Morning
It’s early on Sunday morning. I look over at my clock and it’s not yet six in the morning. The church bells have already rung and there is loud traditional Kweyol music playing. My windows and doors are shut, but I can hear the music as if the speakers are right next to my ear. It’s time to get up. The voices of children in the background, roosters crowing, and goats making goat noises can be heard. I open the window; the ocean breeze comes streaming inside my bedroom as well as the smells of Kweyol food.

There are four official sites where Jounen Kweyol is celebrated. My village is one of them. The plan for this celebration includes my street, as well as several others, where booths are located. As I prepare my morning coffee a parade comes down the street. They are beating on drums and sticks and headed for the stage a half block away in the Catholic Church parking lot.

After I finished my coffee and the breakfast that Elizabeth prepared for me, I went out to explore. Many were using traditional methods to cook their food, others were cooking traditional foods using, by Saint Lucia standards, more modern methods.
I went to an exhibition at the Village Infant School. They had a display that was only about 40-50 years old. It’s amazing how far they have come. The man is demonstrating a child’s toy made from wood collected in the forest.
The items on display reminded me of things we might identify as being used in the late 1800s. I talked to the Brenda, the Community Development Officer about this. She is younger than me and remembers using the things that were on display.

A couple of weeks ago a poster appeared in our training center. It had pictures of Japanese people describing the jobs they are doing in Saint Lucia. They are Japan’s Volunteers. As I round the corner to return home, I spotted a young Asian woman. She looked at me and I could tell she was wondering if I was U.S. Peace Corps. I stopped and asked her, “Are you Japanese?” She said yes. I said, “Are you part of the volunteers here?” Again she said yes. We talked for several minutes and exchanged information. She said they were trying to arrange a meeting with us in November. That would be interesting.

It’s been twelve hours since I was awakened to the sounds of music, the smell of food, and the church bells ringing. As I finish writing this blog entry, I am sitting on my balcony and realize this party is only just beginning.