Everyday People

For a tiny island just 14 miles by 21, it is quite amazing the range of activities that take place daily out here, 13 degrees North of the equator, in the Caribbean sea.

The Cave Hill campus of the University of the West Indies is located just ouside the city on the West coast. It currently has a role of approximately 8000 students who study disciplines ranging from Education and Humanities, Social Sciences and Law, to Medical, Pure and Aplied sciences.

Hazel Oxenford, professor of Marine Ecology and Fisheries, of the Centre for Resource Management and Environmental Studies, is currently working with several students on aspects of the conch fishery here in Barbados. With CERMES student, Caroline Gooding, she is studying the reproductive biology and movement patterns of adult conch. This entails frequent visits to their marine habitat.

One of her allies in this project is Kamal, an everyday bajan diver/fisherman with an exceptional conservation ethic and keen interest in research. He volunteers to keeps an eye on their research animals, tracking their progress almost daily.

Kamal free dives in some 35 feet of water to monitor their activities as he also ferrets out octopus (seacats) for an eager market. Today he has also brought to the surface some small, empty conch shells.

These tiny conchs were eaten by octopus who suck them clean out of their shells. Young conch are very vulnerable to natural predators at this size, before they have had a chance to grow a larger, stronger shell and reach maturity, a process that typically takes three to four years.

Our Architectural Heritage

There is little that tells as much about a country as its architecture. It is a tale of origin, endurance and aspiration. In preserving our links with the past, if we cannot maintain the relics themselves, we must at least preserve their images. They tell the story of our evolution.

The houses in this poster no longer exist. Since 2002, three of them were torn down and one has fallen into disrepair.

These structures and their extended versions, housed the majority of Barbados population in the years following emancipation. The name ‘chattel house’ evolved from the fact that they were regarded as movable possessions, elements of your goods and chattels, just as the slaves themselves were considered the owner’s chattels.

With the abolition of slavery in Barbados, in 1838, the former slaves were allowed to settle on estate ‘rab land’ that was unsuited for farming. Once your labour was no longer required, or if the estate owner needed the plot of land, you would knock the house apart in sections and cart them off to another location. Since there was no security of tenure, you did not construct a foundation but propped your house on a temporary base of loose stones.

Initially the chattel house consisted of a rectangular unit, usually 10’x 20’ with either two sloping roofs (gable) or four sloping roofs. (hip-roof) Attached to the rear was an enclosed shed with a sloping roof. This unit was commonly called a ‘shed-roof’. As the family grew, so too did the size of the house increase by adding units of the same dimensions.

The roof structure of the chattel was important. The high-pitched roof without overhanging eaves was designed to withstand much of the anger of tropical hurricane- force winds. The windows and doors were also louvered, to allow air to circulate freely. This often included two small windows in the apex.

As people’s circumstances improved, these wooden

houses were often expanded to include an enclosed

verandah, a porch, window hoods and ornate hand

carved embellishment.

Earth Tones

While Barbados is largely a coral island, consisting of formations that, according to professor Hans Machel, range from 500,000 to 800,000 years old, there is a portion of the island where the coral cap is totally eroded. This area, known as the Scotland District, covers 1/7 of our total land mass, mainly in the North East of the island.

It is comprised of sedimentary material - clay, shale, sandstone and these combine to produce stunning formations which, along with some unique coral patterns, we will highlight in this section of our blog.

Under Cover - Turner Hall Woods

Turner Hall Woods

When Barbados was discovered it was a heavily forested island. The early settlers, more concerned with survival than conservation, proceeded to clear the forest, using the wood both for shelter and sustenance. Erecting their wooden shacks and cooking on firewood took its toll on the trees and gradually the 106,000 acres of forested terrain shrunk, leaving only 46 acres of the original forest cover intact… Turner Hall Woods.

This heavily wooded area covers the steep slope of a gully that runs East to West for about half mile, on the Northern side of White Hill. The gully floor is about 1,200 feet wide and hosts a meandering stream, which is quite active during the rainy season.

There was once a wooden bridge that spanned this creek, the remnants of which are still attached to their base. As a boy, I drove over this bridge with my father, on our way to the village of St Simons where his elderly aunts lived. Because of soil erosion, the road through the woods was abandoned, leaving only a footpath for access.

Turner Hall woods is home to handsome stands of the Cabbage Palm, Sandbox and Silk Cotton tree.

Bajan bits'n pieces

The Paling

A dominant feature of local villagescape is the corrugated-metal fencing enclosing many properties, referred to as paling. Enjoying extended life, these steel sheets, commonly know as ‘galvanize’ were formerly roofing panels that have become worn, especially around the rusting nail-holes where leaking would have occurred.

Becoming unsuitable for roof cover, they are recycled to provide no-cost security and privacy to one’s property. Sometimes painted but more often not, palings were occasionally the target for stone throwing lads, who delighted in the loud bang created by stone-paling contact. By the time the resident came out to investigate, the boys were long gone!

This most unique paling caught my eye. Titled 'Paling Pieces', it was taken at Martin's Bay, St John, a rural seaside community.

A cover-up.

The approach of the Christmas season sees increased activity around the house as we prepare for seasonal visits and family get-togethers. Airing of cushions is one of the 'spring cleaning' activities associated with the season. This off-the-road vehicle comes in handy in the sunning process.

Saturday afternoon in the city

Bridgetown is a low-lying city, originally built on a swamp. In its early trading days, schooners would sail inland via a narrow waterway which meandered for about half a mile to Roebuck Street and what is now referred to as the Globe roundabout.

This waterway had its origin in the heart of the St Thomas and St Joseph parishes, through our gully system. The Barbados gully system comprises some 300 miles of natural coral-lined ravines, hosting dense tropical growth. These gullies channel our rain-water into the aquifers and often, ultimately out to sea. Over time, the River road/Halls road waterway shrunk to a mere canal. Changes upstream lessened the volume of water finding it's way to the city, often causing stagnation.

In an effort to create a healthier and more aesthetically pleasing environment, the Barbados Government embarked on a city re-development pogramme. This programme extended to the canal area and included upgrading the riverside retaining walls and improving the water flow. Today there is a constant flow of water, particularly as it reaches the inner basin of the careenage, a safe harbour where schooners used to be moored for service and repair.

It was in this area that a group from the PhotoAdventure workshop and I strolled, looking at life in the city on a Saturday afternoon.

In the central square, now referred to as Parliament Square, sits the Dolphin Fountain, installed around 1861 to commemorate the bringing of piped water to the city. Behind it is the Parliament bulding west wing.

To the square's South begins the Wickham Lewis boardwalk, one of the elements of urban renewal. Besides being a pedestrian thoroughfare, the boardwalk and ajacent civic area has become a place of refuge for those who prefer to be alone in a crowd.

Here, people sit and comtemplate life and their circumstances.

One young lady carried on a tearful telephone conversation as she sat on a bench overlooking boats riding at anchor.

Nearby, a middle-aged lady, dressed in black, with a rusk coloured bag on her back, engaged in a monologue that set her on a stage of her own, playing to an audience invisible to the rest of us.

It was on this boardwalk a few months earlier I encountered Lester Obrien Wellington, a retired seafarer who visits the area daily for his communion with the water.

Bridgetown, unlike many efficient cities, is not laid out in blocks. It is a bit of a hodgepodge, both in layout and architecture, which is perhaps what helps to give it a unique character.

The neo-Gothic Parliament buildings at the Eastern end of Broad Street, the main thoroughfare and the Mutual Building at the Western end, are two early architectural landmarks, most of the others having been destroyed by the fierce fires and hurricanes that visited the city over it's more than 350 year existence. In contrast, a few hundred metres away to the East stands the 10 storied Central Bank of 1980's vintage, towering over the 225-year-old st Michael's Cathedral, nestled in it's shadow to the South.

Walking The Old Barbados Railway Trail

A sultry sky greeted a group of 18 photo enthusiasts, gathered in the dawn light at Hillswick Bathsheba. A palette of pink-grey cumulus refused the sun’s entry, blocking its every attempt to say hello to an eager audience.

Our mission was to trek over three miles of undulating Atlantic coastline, following part of the route of the 1945 Barbados railway. We were one of three groups on the island taking part in the Worldwide Photowalk, established a year ago by American photographer and author Scott Kelby.

Our quest was to find interesting images that we would submit to the Worldwide Photowalk website to be adjudged with thousands of others from around the world.

The air was cool and an overnight rain had had its celebration, leaving its soggy stamp on the trail ahead. The first indication that this was going to be fun was trying to negotiate a narrow, sloping ledge of mud, the rim of a mini-precipice. The first few crossing did not have a problem, but rather created one for those of us following, as their footsteps compacted the mud into a smooth and eager trap. We clutched at overhanging branches, ending up with a fistful of wet leaves and still no support. Fortunately, we all survived this early test and became more interested in the terrain from a photographic point of view.

We soon came upon the first obvious sign of the old railway track. At a small watercourse, the coral block revetment on either side suggested that it once supported a short bridge. A flattened bed upon which the track once lay ran away from the revetment for about thirty feet before disintegrating into disorganized rubble. Scattered along this bed were bits of rusted iron, remnants of rails that were eventually shipped back to England.

We followed the twists and turns of our footpath, which sometimes coincided with the railway bed, though for most of the distance it meandered on its own course. We reached Glenburnie after about a forty-five minute stop-and-stare walk.The beach here comprised pebbles of varying colours and textures - the sort that would provide the perfect terrain for a huge aquarium.

It was here that we found the results of man’s intrusion into nature’s realm.

Lying entangled in a blue net was a lifeless turtle. My subsequent research suggested that this net, with its coarse, blue threading and wide spaces, is the trademark tool of the Japanese fishing fleet. As the nets disintegrate, turtles often get snared in these floating traps.

In this area of the coast in particular, bits of blue netting were clinging to the coral stacks that guarded the beach. Also lying among the beach pebbles were several dead fish, victims of water temperature change and other ecological phenomena according to the Fisheries Division.

Overlooking this beach was the crumbled ruin of a seaside house that seemed to have become a victim of salt-air erosion. It had occupied pride of place no more than about thirty feet from the high water mark, underscoring our fascination with trying to get a spot ‘on the beach’.

The trail then led us through groves of cane lily growth, providing cozy spots of shade in the journey. This serrated-edge lily, commonly known as Ping Wing, is used in basketry and mat making. It is also a formidable deterrent to intruders along the perimeter of some properties.

As we approached the Martins Bay area, a striking feature was the shape of the sea stacks just offshore. These jagged coral sculptures faithfully guard entry to the land, having withstood the relentless pounding of angry waves for centuries. Martins Bay, a sleepy little fishing village is bordered by a large expanse of flat reef, in direct contrast to the adjacent shoreline. At low tide, one is able to wander about 60 metres away from shore and explore the marine life whose habitat has been exposed by the retreating water.

From Martins Bay, the path again entered thick undergrowth that shortly opened up into grassland and then morphed into overgrown sea grape trail. Having to bend to negotiate these grape tunnels allowed intimate viewing of the ground cover. Russet coloured leaves carpeted the trail, hosting slivers of sunlight and the occasional green shoot.

The frequency of meandering waterways, taking our precious resource to the ocean, was noticeable. The largest of these, is an outlet for water from the Newcastle Hills. It was once straddled by a 5-metre-high bridge, its supporting coral stone remnants still proudly standing.

We reached Congor Bay, a narrow sandy strip on the curving coastal border of the former Cable and Wireless satellite earth station. The end of trek was in sight as ahead was the casuarina-fringed beach leading to Bath. A disturbing sight was a number of uprooted casuarinas lying with scorched roots. Their demise may have been caused by fires started to prepare a meal of freshly caught fish. The shore line was slightly more friendly here with little nooks and crannies ideal for moments of quiet reflection in the gently lapping surf.

The little water flow over a 15-foot-high rock-face (some call it the Bath waterfall) and the beach houses opposite signaled that we had reached our destination. The coach waiting to take us back to our own transportation was a welcome sight – it meant that breakfast was only 15 minutes away.