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Nobel: The lure of ‘progress’—T&T must not sacrifice social value in ‘paper chase’

Today, when I look around in the world, what do I see?/ I see footprints that man has left on the sand/ While walking through time./

I see fruits of our ambition, figments of our imaginations/ And I ask myself, When will it end? When will it end?/ It is plain to see, universally,/ This land is not bountiful as it was/ Simply because in his quest for success; Nothing stands in man’s way./

Old rivers run dry, soon the birds won’t fly/ The mountains will be no longer high/ And when I really think of it/ I does wonder why, oh why? (Progress, written by Winsford “Joker” Devine.)

The price of progress? Photo by Maksym Diachenko on Unsplash.

Dawad Philip, in his book Ayedemah, indicates that Devine was inspired by the quarrying of the San Fernando Hill (Annaparima), the sacred grounds of the Indigenous people of the island’s southern region, to pen this classic. (Philip, 2022, p 80).

I grew up on “The Coffee” at Coffee Street and Lower Hillside Road. The Hill was right up the road from there. You went up Upper Hillside Road, took a right turn, passed the reservoir, and met Marrayat Street. There, you were challenged by the famous “Steps” which led to the top of the Hill.

There were birds to try to catch, but more importantly, there was the squat building, which reportedly used to house radio equipment during the second world war. True? As boys, we never knew.

The joy was climbing the steps, like Jacob’s ladder, and being distracted by birds and the lush vegetation. Saturday afternoons would pass in the bliss of going up the Hill.

San Fernando Hill. Photo by Shane K on Flickr (CC BY-SA 2.0)

Then, one day, somebody decided it was wise to start quarrying the Hill because there was a need for “San Fernando gravel” to support the construction boom.

The trucks that removed the gravel were driven by people we knew! Guys who grew up in the shadow of the Hill. As an adult visiting what remains of the Hill, I have thought about how ordinary people do long-lasting damage.

I recalled how a neighbour who lived in full view of the Hill helped denude it, robbing future generations of young boys from enjoying the life he had.

Such irreversible damage comes from a lack of thought about the future. We care about what we can get from the country rather than what we can contribute. There is no concern about the damage inflicted.

Image by Mohamed Hassan from Pixabay.

Thankfully, some burgesses under the leadership of the indefatigable James Lee Wah and the eccentric Mungal Chattergoon agitated for a stop to the quarrying and the protection of the Hill from further quarrying.

Can you imagine that some advocated for the complete flattening of the Hill?

During economic booms, places important for producing and sustaining local communities are at risk of being insufficiently acknowledged. Birds no longer fly there; there is no birdsong. Is that progress?

This experience is, unfortunately, repeated throughout our land. We are more interested in chasing the dollar without realising that there is something called “social value”.

Screenshot from YouTube video ‘Evening Stroll at Palmiste Park’ by Yohan Partap. Fair use.

“Social value is the net positive change in the social, environmental, and economic well-being of those directly and indirectly impacted by an initiative, project, or organisation.

In the built environment, social value is created when local needs are understood, the people most impacted are authentically engaged and where buildings, places, and infrastructure improve present and future communities’ quality of life, well-being, and social cohesion.”

Two more examples in the south come to mind. Firstly, Palmiste Park is a site where several politicians have offered platitudes, but nothing substantial has emerged. Poor Terrence Honore, the president of the Palmiste Historical Society, cryptically summed up the neglect:

“We must be careful that some people might perceive that the state of Palmiste Park reflects the way we govern our nation.” Three prime ministers lived or still live near the park.

Indigenous flautists on the Kayama Rover, Venezuela. Photo by Yheicar Bernal, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

In a second example, authorities in San Fernando recently erected a statue to mark the significance of the waterfront area in the city’s history. The trouble? The First Peoples Warao community in San Fernando got upset because of its “inaccurate representation” of Indigenous people.

An angry Warao Shaman Raould Simon declared:

“In my words, that whole thing is supposed to come down, and the whole thing should be corrected. This is why they should have spoken to us and done the real thing. That whole statue is a waste of time. It does not represent us as a people.

“The desecration of sacred spaces has to stop. They do not desecrate anyone else’s things. What it is representing is not us.”

Photo: A representative of the First People of Santa Rosa.
(via OPRTT.)

The authorities did not learn from recent history. Dara Healy wrote: “We certainly saw evidence of the uncompromising attitude of the Warao during the 2020 protests to remove the statue of Columbus from Port of Spain.” Why did the Hyarima statue in Arima not meet the outcry that this one met?

To be fair, there often appears to be controversy with statues. It was felt that the Cipriani statue did not resemble him. (Stuempfle, 2018, p 332). In 1959, Trinidad Guardian’s Lloyd Cartar called for the formation of an advisory body that would supervise artworks created for squares and parks.

Significantly, the March for Chaguaramas in 1960 ended at the Cipriani Statue in downtown Port of Spain. Arthur Andrew Cipriani was revered as a “champion of the people”.

The statue of Chief Hyarima outside of the Arima Velodrome.
(via National Trust.)

The Nation, the PNM weekly newspaper, observed that the March would “establish a new claim to the lands in which we live” and create a sense among citizens of belonging to a wider community.

It noted that a national spirit “is the private feeling you experience of possessing and being possessed by the whole landscape of the place where you were born” (ibid, p 296). It was then that Marine Square was renamed Independence Square.

In the literature, a recurring theme is the imperative to commence projects by comprehensively researching local needs and consistently involving stakeholders meaningfully and authentically throughout the lifespan of a project.

Interestingly, the conceptualisation and creation of the Brian Lara Promenade (the evolved Independence Square) show how this involvement by stakeholders can be done. Brian Sarjeant writes:

Brian Lara Promenade, Port of Spain.
Photo by Anneli Salo (CC BY-SA 3.0).

Mr Laird, whose astute architectural work also saw him conceptualising the designs for the Hasely Crawford Stadium and the Nalis Library in Port of Spain, would spend countless hours and days along Independence Square as he observed the space and the people who occupied it.

“Donned with his stylish broad hat, Colin would sit on a low stool and carefully observe the pathways people took through the square to influence the Promenade’s design.

Such was the detail of the man; each tile pattern on the Promenade was distinctly painted in a different colour from the other, while the near-indestructible stone tables in the space were etched with draft or chess boards to allow for passers-by to engage in some friendly rivalry during their free time.”

People walk on the Brian Lara Promenade in Port of Spain.

Under the leadership of Ronald Harford, a Promenade Management Committee was created. The commercial banks supported the effort.

Estimates reported that more than 125,000 persons crossed the Promenade each day and that about 3,000 persons used its facilities on an average Friday afternoon. It appeared that this urban initiative would transform the Downtown area. Now, not so much.

Maraj and Sons, the prominent jewellers, rescued and restored an old landmark, Cameo House, which lay derelict after the closure of the Broadway bar. This building sits opposite City Gate, the central traffic hub in Port of Spain.

Photo: Cameo House, Port of Spain.

Disappointedly, the restored Fort San Andres, designated as the Museum of Port of Spain, remains closed and shows signs of deterioration. The famed boat of the La Bordes, which circumnavigated the world, is shamefully housed in a shed behind the building.

A train engine, painted green, stands as a lonely figure. There is no connection with the multitude of people going to City Gate. There appears to be no sense of what an integrated approach could have done to revitalise the City.

What can we do?

We must identify which partnerships are needed to sustain downtown recovery and the key public and private sector actions required to facilitate supportive capital flows between downtowns and historically disinvested neighbourhoods, aka East Port of Spain.

Port of Spain cannot be lively without the problem of homelessness being addressed.

We struggle with homelessness that spills into the streets and under any building that offers shelter. Port of Spain cannot be lively without this problem being addressed.

As seen in downtown Kingston, the perception of crime can be dealt with through staging arts, events, and other programming.

Should we let Devine have the last words?

“And I wonder now, where do we go from here/ Prophets everywhere gaze upon the horizon and declare that judgment will come/ As the savage hands of unscrupulous men defile everything pass by.”

Is that the kind of progress we want?

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