Manifest Destiny

I have been living in America for twenty-two years, and for the most part I feel quite at home here. I appreciate the political system, and though it can be expensive, there is a health-care system. When you call the police, the police show up, when you need an ambulance, you can count on one, except perhaps in a snowstorm. When you have business to conduct, there are clearly laid out rules which apply more or less for everyone, and when things go wrong there are channels for recourse. I mention these first because they are the things that have kept me from considering a move back to Trinidad with any degree of seriousness.

I have been learning about American History with my son as we prepare for his weekly 7th Grade Social Studies tests. Even if it is not the absolute truth, Americans take great pride in the idea of their 'exceptionalism', which has been a buzzword in the editorials lately, and I think for the most part the world buys into it. As a Naturalized American, I can't testify to exceptionalism, but what I can say is that I was unexpectedly moved to tears during my swearing in as a citizen. There is something very special about this country: it is the fact that its citizens take its specialness so seriously.

I realize that this belief in specialness is not consistently held by all Americans. Those who have fallen on hard times tend to focus more on what the government is doing wrong, rather than on the country's virtues, but I suppose that applies everywhere, as Maslow knew. Right now we are clamoring about the price of gas and consumer goods in general - but this isn't happening in a vacuum, and I don't think yelling about it will cause things to change any faster than the wheel of supply and demand dictates.

Let's have a little perspective: my brother recently returned from a trip to Uganda and a close brush with the border of Rwanda.

He says:
"The southern end of Uganda is quite scenic and appears very peaceful, but poverty is all around. Despite that, people appear to be content and even happy in what might appear to the western eye to be dire straits. They live communally and all have a little something to eat or they all starve together, however it is hard for those who aspire to something else - those who want to move up"

"Sometimes I wonder if my own value system is screwed up - these people wake up to birds singing, eat mataka ( green bananas pounded into a paste), breadfruit and fresh fruit every day, socialize
and dance into the evening as there is no electricity in many places."

Wedding in Uganda  - May 2011

Southern Uganda - May 2011

In the late seventies, I had a pen-pal from Uganda. Her name was Lizzie Nakakawa. During the time that we were corresponding, Idi Amin was the President of that country, and there were frequent bouts of unrest, though strangely enough - this was never mentioned in her letters. After a few exchanges, the letters just stopped coming, and I assumed the worst - that she'd been killed or maimed in a raid on her village. Of course, she could just as easily have lost interest in writing to me, or become busy with her own life.
I had many pen pals, but Lizzie was the most enigmatic. She sent me just one black and white photo of herself with her closely cropped afro, wearing a flowered skirt, a light colored blouse, low white pumps.. and a  megawatt smile. Those white shoes were the most intriguing thing. I often wondered if she wore them only for that picture, or whether they had some practical application elsewhere in her life. Of course, I never found out.   

There is no reason to believe that Ugandans love their country less than any of us love ours. It's not a matter of how good or bad the government is - it is a matter of identifying with the place where you were born and came to know yourself. For me, even though I have reservations about Trinidad socially and politically - the deep tugging that I feel once I get there cannot be mistaken for anything other than a sense of belonging that is inextricable from my very sense of self.

For almost a year, I have been trying to read the autobiography of  V.S.Naipaul ( The World is What It Is - Patrick French). V.S.Naipaul is one of my favorite authors, but the disdain he has shown for his country of birth (and countrymen) is hard to swallow. It is so extreme as to be a form of self-hate. It puzzled and saddened me to the point that I have not been able to finish reading the book.
I often hold Derek Walcott in my mind as a counterbalance to V.S. and his view. Here is a man who was born in St. Lucia, made Trinidad his home and embraced the entire Caribbean and indeed the whole world, suffusing his work with love songs to many lands - both overtly and subtly.

I love New York and I love America but I never touch the wellspring of myself as effortlessly as I do when I am 'home' in Trinidad. Every little curve of the hills I grew up gazing at seems like some feature of my own body, or that of some well-loved one. I am due to travel back in July and I know what I want to take back with me - it is the idea of Trinidadian exceptionalism. May it spread like a wildfire in the dry season.


*Top Photo: unattributed, taken in February or March 2011 off the Foreshore Highway, Trinidad.
It is a cloud formation in the shape of the island of Trinidad.
*Uganda photos - courtesy my brother, May 2011