Why Do Caribbean People Scorn Manual Labour?

This was published in edited form by the Sunday Guardian, 22nd July, Page 8 under the Headline "No Shame In Manual Labour".

But you can enjoy the full unedited version right here.


From my bedroom balcony in St. Anns, I have watched the palatial grounds of the Prime Minster spring up as if by magic under the workmanship of Chinese laborers. The stone columns, enormous courtyard, Playboy mansion inspired pool, bronze roofed gazebo and mini towers that accent grand, round three story living quarters. The scale of the project is huge! The design is an incomprehensible cross between a nouveau riche Pentecostal pastor’s palace and the bastard child of Spanish villa and colonial French estate house. In addition to the main structure, a rather pedestrian edifice went up as well-a four story, box-like structure that may be the servant’s quarters or some kind of office. I will save my scathing opinions on the eight figure budget of this project that uses my tax dollars and those of hundreds of thousands of hard working Trinidadians. I will not go into my “this is so similar to what the typical African despot dictator does while his people suffer from rampant crime and poor education and crippling poverty” routine, nor the “the bigger the towers, the bigger the megalomaniac’s self-delusion” speech. You see, in the midst of my disgust at the project, I could not help but be thoroughly impressed by the work ethic of the Chinese workers. I think there is a lesson in there somewhere for our people, especially our young men.

These Chinese men work 24/7 in shifts. I also have it on good authority that they are a contractor’s dream! Pick any worker at random and you would find that they can not only do masonry but other skills as well including carpentry, plumbing, electrical and finishing craftsmanship. I have sat like a scientist of human behavior studying them, totally captivated. While some work feverishly, others cook, clean, wash clothes, sleep or go for supplies at the grocery. Their meals are simple, a bowl of rice and cabbage or pakchoi or a bowl of rice and a fried egg with tea or water. Their resourcefulness is impressive. They have started growing their own little vegetable garden and the old pieces of wood used for scaffolding, framing and the like, they recycle as fuel to cook and heat water. They built a wood burning oven (it stinks up the neighbourhood though) with concrete bricks and old metal drums. I have never seen a single one of them dragging his feet. They work at a frenetic pace as if trying to outdo one another. I would gaze from my balcony in wonder as one worker would run back and forth with a wheelbarrow almost as big as he is, laden with bricks. That must be some super green tea and ginseng!

Occasionally minor scuffles resembling unrehearsed Kung Fu may break out; complete with clumsy kicks and hand chops but that is to be expected when men are far from home and family and must be so starved of their culture, companionship and sex. With all that testosterone occupying cramped living quarters, I am surprised there hasn’t been an all out Shaolin showdown in the place. Generally, there is an easy camaraderie and self-discipline as reliable as clockwork. Any quarrels are quickly mediated by whoever is the man in charge of the shift. This week, for the first time there was a spontaneous outburst of frivolity. They just completed Patrick Manning’s swimming pool and the recent heavy rains filled it up a bit. They jumped in for a little splash, shouting and cheering in a Chinese dialect that sounded so much more relaxed, melodic and playful than the usual rapid fire, seemingly harsh intonation I normally hear. However it was all over in five minutes. Pretty soon it was back to work and the ant-like industriousness resumed like the pool horseplay never even happened.

These Chinese men work 24/7 in shifts. I also have it on good authority that they are a contractor’s dream! Pick any worker at random and you would find that they can not only do masonry but other skills as well including carpentry, plumbing, electrical and finishing craftsmanship.

I walk to work every morning (I believe if you live in Port-of Spain and work in Port-of- Spain you have no excuse cluttering up our already crowded roads with a vehicle. Do what people of all classes who live in New York, Toronto or London do and walk, bike or take public transport), so I get to see a lot of the construction and public utility projects that go on around St. Clair/Woodbrook. When I see our big hard back West Indian men on their respective construction sites, milling around, scratching their balls and sooting every woman that passes by it irks me so much. When I see CEPEP workers or Port of Spain Council workers lazily swinging a cutlass to a small clump of bush as if they mean to cut it one blade at a time, while five others stand around catching flies and watching the traffic go by, it just makes my blood boil. It dawns on me what a lazy, half-hearted people we are when it comes to manual labour.

So what is it about manual work we find so offensive here in this country? Why do we have this attitude that if you do not wear a suit and tie and work in an office, you are a lesser human being and there is no pride to be had in your work? It is infuriating when I read letters to the newspaper Editors complaining about how women are taking all jobs and there is nothing left for men to do. What nonsense! There is never a shortage of work for men to do in this country. Yes it is true that a lot of “office jobs” are going to women. Decision makers in the business world are looking for customer service, communication skills, creative problem solving, and budget sense; a flair for presentation of ideas, compassionate client management and the art of negotiation. A more nurturing style of people management is now à la mode and as billion dollar corporations like Google can attest, it is working wonders! These now in-demand management skills play naturally into feminine strengths because women were unwittingly socialized to be good at them. Combined with a drive to prove ourselves and not to settle, we are a force to be reckoned with especially when our local men and boys have been complacent for years.

The shoddy work left abandoned for months by our Public Works workmen. Perhaps they should have contracted Chinese labour to do it instead.

There was a time when men who toiled manually had their honour, possessed a strong work ethic and took pride in their vocation and skills whether in agriculture or construction. Master craftsmen would pass on their skills to young apprentices and through dedication they in turn would get respect from both peers and even the upper echelons of society. With hard work and determination in skilled labour, you could actually move up in the world, own a home and provide well for your family. This kind of apprenticeship and strong work ethic still holds true in Chinese society and it is probably one of the reasons that country will be the world’s next super power. However, we have communicated to this younger generation of boys in our country that if they are not prestige school material, they are little more than criminals. Even if they possess any artistic talent, trade skills and even athletic ability, those are systematically under appreciated and under funded. In China, work of any kind, skills of any kind, talents of any kind make you a valuable contributor to society. Whether you are behind a desk or in a rice paddy, work is a virtue and its own reward. This philosophy makes the Chinese farmer who grows the perfect radish feel just as much pride as the big boss of a major corporation who made the stock go up three points. In fact, the only vice or shame in that society is if you cannot work. Non-productivity is a virtual crime. Sadly for our young men, growing the best dasheen or having the best stone work and perfecting such a craft will not earn them as much respect among peers nor impress the ladies. In our society academic success, which has now become irrevocably linked to class, is all that matters! Flaunting the lifestyle of upward career mobility is how we prove our self worth in this country. We want to get as far away as possible from anything we consider to be rural or menial in a vain attempt to prove just how “developed” we are. However, in our vain attempt to remove ourselves from the grassroots industries we are leaving a large sector of the population behind. Our public education system and our current social culture do not take into account that the vast majority of us cannot fit into the corporate world. Not every person can be book smart. Not every person can stand and deliver to a board room; manage million dollar budgets, negotiate with foreign clients or be doctor or lawyer and that is OKAY!

When I see our big hard back West Indian men on their respective construction sites, milling around, scratching their balls and sooting every woman that passes by it irks me so much. When I see CEPEP workers or Port of Spain Council workers lazily swinging a cutlass to a small clump of bush as if they mean to cut it one blade at a time, while five others stand around catching flies and watching the traffic go by, it just makes my blood boil. It dawns on me what a lazy, half-hearted people we are when it comes to manual labour.

We forget that big developed countries with their awe-inspiring cities and fast paced life also have large expanses of land zoned for agriculture and massive numbers of skilled workers, who get down and dirty for a living and are paid handsomely for it. These people go to work with a feeling of pride and their work performance reflects it. Go to a farmer’s market in London and see farmers show off their produce (often organically grown on land they own themselves) with joy, in clean, well presented produce stalls. Our filthy, fetid Central Market betrays the disdain we have for those who work the land and the lack of pride they have in themselves in turn. Watch “Dirty Jobs” on the Discovery Channel and see those who toil smile with pride through the grime. The jobs we often look down on are remunerated handsomely in the USA, Canada and England. A skilled young Trinidadian man who can barely make ends meet in this country will find that they can own a home and make more money than I do in my so-called “glamorous” advertising job if they migrate. How do we expect to compete on the global market when we do not treat skilled labour, agriculture and trade skills with the respect they deserve socially, educationally and financially? Will we keep importing labor and produce? If we do, we will continue to have young men who give “low class” work performance because they believe the manual work they do is “low class” work. Worst yet, in the shadow of the skyscrapers and gourmet shops we will continue to have bands of disenfranchised young men who rob, kill and rape at will because picking up a gun gets them more respect than picking up a shovel.

Compare our Port of Spain Central Market to Farmer's Markets in developed countries and you can see the difference in personal and social value we place on those who work the land and the pride they take in themselves as a result.

A lot of young people have no perception of what “a hard days work” is and have every expectance of instant material success with little to no effort. Manual work is shameful so those who cannot succeed in our narrow academic system turn to sex-exploitation and thug-like behaviour to achieve the same material success. They look on at those in the suits, driving around in their cars; looking swanky while going to conferences and business trips and only see the outer material manifestations of that hard work, most of which are still on credit, loan or lease. They think we caught an unfair break and have it easy but the corporate life is not “cushy” at all. It came from the sacrifice and late nights of studying to get the academic qualifications and then all the office politics and demands on your time, creativity and emotional well-being to keep it and stay in a good salary bracket. Many of us who have been clinging to the corporate ladder for decades would give it up this instant for the peace of mind of planting peas in Tobago or digging ditches, so we could come home when the sun goes down, sweaty but contented, with enough time to spend with family. We are where we are because in this country it is the only thing that pays the credit cards, school fees and mortgages. You are not sufficiently rewarded in Trinidad and Tobago for using your hands to build or plant anything. As a result, our young men will continue to be at a disadvantage.

In the shadow of the skyscrapers and gourmet shops we will continue to have bands of disenfranchised young men who rob, kill and rape at will because picking up a gun gets them more respect than picking up a shovel.

One day, I would like to pass by St. Clair Avenue, Sweet Briar Road or Alexandra Street on my way to work and see the local men on all those construction sites buzzing around like bees on caffeine, totally absorbed in their work instead of staring out into the road, listlessly picking their nostrils and sooting me and other women on our way to work. Until that happens, I would never fault any construction or contracting company that hires a Chinese worker over a local one.

Birth Of A Seeker Pt. 1

I am not a Hindu but I see many timeless truths within that faith, as I do in other faiths. I attended a puja at a family home about six years ago with one of my friends from San Juan and the pundit not only welcomed those who were not Hindu but praised all the other various faiths. He said that if you are Christian, be the best Christian you can be. He quoted Ghandi who said that he had no problem with Jesus Christ, in fact, quite the opposite. He admired the teachings of Christ. He just lamented the fact that Christians like to use Jesus when convenient yet fail to emulate him as they should. His point was that if you are truly involved in your faith and personal spiritual development, you would not have time nor need to be judging, condemning, oppressing or hating others. Keep in mind, from Ghandi’s perspective, it was the British oppressing Indians and Britain was supposed to be a “Christian” nation. I found it immensely refreshing to hear a non-Christian motivate Christians to be better at their own faith. I certainly never heard any such thing during my long years growing up within a strict evangelical Christian household. No Christian I knew ever said, “If you are a Hindu, be the best Hindu you can be.” Instead it usually was, "If you are a Hindu you will BURN IN HELL if you do not accept Christ as your Lord and Saviour!"

I was taught, for a long time, since infancy that only we Christians were God’s chosen ones, redeemed by Christ’s blood and everyone else, even those of other Christian sects who did not have our exact bible exegesis and worship practices were going to be punished by God when He brings the world to and end. Thankfully, I have come a long way since then. But even back then as a teenager, I could not actually fathom God engulfing my wonderful Roman Catholic, Hindu and Moslem school mates in fiery destruction just because they were in a different religion. I would look at my fellow Naps girls, Ms. Alverado, Ms. Boodoosingh and Ms. Khan and worry constantly about their future. I would preach fanatically to them, often driven to tears when my urgency for them to convert was met with their cool confidence in their own beliefs. I tried to believe that somehow they were bad for not wanting to accept what I was taught to be the only true path to salvation. But they were no more evil than I was. In fact, some of them possessed admirable moral qualities I was still struggling to live up to. Being an Evangelical Christian did not make me automatically happier, brighter or more self-confident than they were. In fact, I had very low self-esteem from years of emotional, physical and sexual abuse. I came from a divorced home, and yet many of them came from what I deemed far more normal, two parent families that seemed happier and more stable than mine. All in all, it was hard for me to rationalize being, “specially chosen of God” as my life did not reflect this. God certainly did not seem to be answering my prayers to rectify many of the things that troubled and hurt me in my life.

Of course, I could have taken the route many of my fellow Christian youths took. They separated themselves from anyone they considered, ‘worldly non-believers” and seemed to go above and beyond to invite exclusion and ridicule from peers which only justified what they saw as being persecuted in Jesus’ name. They wore their religiosity on their sleeve like a badge of honor. Acted in a pushy, obnoxious, overly critical fashion in total “Us” vs. “Them” mentality. You know that bumper sticker that reads, “Jesus may love you but everyone else thinks you are an asshole.”, it applies to quite a few of my Christian peers back then, hopefully they have changed and learned a few social graces like tact, humility and altruism. Back then, they carried themselves around like picture perfect Christians, even though their lives belied such claims and the less obvious forms of non-Christian behaviour- gossip, pride, overeating, materialism were rampant in the ranks. Soon other “sins” began to show up as we got older. It is a well hidden fact that when you go into most evangelical congregations, the number of single mothers is staggering. It’s very true what they say about Pastor’s daughters, as Ms. Alleyne, the fourteen year old who Akon acrobatically dry humped can attest. I can tell you from experience watching my female Christian peers turn from boastful and self-righteous one minute to shame-facedly pregnant out of wedlock or caught in some other compromisng position the next. So it was not just me, the academically struggling, troubled teen with a different sexuality and horrid home life that proved that Christians were just as human as everyone else. Soon, it became obvious to me, that I had no real right to be preaching down to anyone.

"Jesus may love you but everyone else thinks you are an asshole.”

Thoroughly humbled, I still practiced my faith, but with quiet reserve and growing despondency. You see while you may get a single Christian to admit (some more willingly than others) that they are no better a person than you are and they too have the same challenges, personal demons, family problems, self-development problems and social challenges, it is different with a large group Christians. When gathered en masse, or speaking as a group to the world, Christians like to project an image of not only moral superiority but the ideal in everything from personal development and happiness to family life. They do this outwardly to the world and among each other, it is even worse. There is a constant vigilance and pressure to keep that picture perfect outward display on at all times. Everyone is monitoring everyone else’s behaviour. However, remember that any large group is made up of flawed individuals. Having Jesus as your personal savior does not automatically solve all your problems nor automatically make you a better person. My personal experience of seeing Christians screw up their lives and mine had dirtied my rose lenses a long time ago. As a result, I have always been quite self-depreciating among them, something they lacked the courage to do. I would publically announce,
“I am such a screw up!” and it would be met with uncomfortable, critically assessing gazes instead of a disarming smile, support or better yet, them opening up about their shit too. So back then, I felt thoroughly isolated in my depression and personal problems.

While you may get a single Christian to admit (some more willingly than others) that they are no better a person than you are and they too have the same challenges, personal demons, family problems, self-development problems and social challenges, it is different with a large group Christians. When gathered en masse, or speaking as a group to the world, Christians like to project an image of not only moral superiority but the ideal in everything from personal development and happiness to family life.

I would like to say that it was my increasing academic knowledge of world history, evolution, geography and the basics of forming a philosophical argument learned in public speaking and debating class that sprung doubts in my mind. But I was agnostic long before I reached Cambridge A’levels. I was a secret agnostic even while attending bible study, worship and fellowship. Those things were done out of habit (I actually relished bible study for the sheer pleasure of learning) because I had no choice. Truth was I had stopped praying ages ago. The point of final conflict came while my father led me in bible study and we were discussing the flood in Genesis. I began asking questions it never occurred to me to ask before. What about polar bears, were they in the ark? How did Noah get all those millions of animals in the ark from all the continents? How did they get released in the same habitat after the flood and not totally damage the natural eco-system let alone return to their original habitats? How did salt water fish survive all that fresh water? What about plant life? What about reefs that date back millions of years? Little by little, I could see the growing frustration on my father’s face. What started as pleasant bible discussion became about threats.
“Stop asking seditious questions! That is the Devil trying to move you away from God! All you need to know is the bible is true! It is true you hear me!” he said firmly.
‘But Daddy, how can you tell if it is true or not? How can call this bible study if I cannot ask questions or investigate other opinions? Why do you only want me to read and repeat what you say? Why can’t I see if what I am reading is true?”
“If you are reading from the bible then it is true! There is nothing to investigate!”
"How do you know?” I pressed.
“I have faith! Plus am older than you and I have seen much more than you! This is a pointless argument! Are you going to humble yourself before God or not? Remember, the bible says that wisdom of this world is foolishness to God! You have to be a child to understand the things of God and that means being humble and not doubting!” he yelled. Blood vessels were starting to protrude on his face. I knew a slap may not be too far behind but I persisted.
“But Daddy, how can I really believe if I am not convinced."
"You need to just have faith!"
"So having faith means just believing despite your questions or knowledge that something is not logical?"
"What does the bible say?"
"Faith is the hope in things yet unseen."
"There is you answer right there! There is nothing more to discuss!"
"But Daddy, I cannot just shut off my brain like that! I cannot force myself to believe.”
"Well you had better believe if you want to be under MY roof and use MY money and eat MY food! If you prefer the world to God’s knowledge, then you are free to go out into the world! Go and see what will happen to you! Remember what happened to those who strayed away from the faith. You see how their lives are a mess now. Are you a child of God or Satan? Tell me! Choose this day who you will serve! Will you serve God?”
“Okay Daddy.” I said and instantly he became relieved and pleasant once more. We continued the bible study with no more questions. I basically regurgitated what I knew he expected me to and told him all the things he wanted to hear and he seemed pleased with that. It did not matter that it was not genuine. Suddenly it dawned on me that this was not about me but

him

. He

needed

me to believe more than I actually needed to believe, in order to validate

his

own belief. So much so that real belief on my part was not even necessary. Just a display of belief was enough to soothe his fears and doubts. For it was indeed fear I saw behind the rage. To have to resort to threats in order to get someone to believe in anything is a sure sign of fear. Who knows, if my father’s reaction had been different perhaps I would have never left the faith.

That was fifteen years ago.

I am no longer a Christian and my father and I are not on speaking terms but we are civil when we do chance to meet and greet. Every time we do, he is surprised that I am in fact alive and well. I am not a prostitute, drug addict, wasted down and used up as he predicted I would be, when I departed from his home and church. I have not been punished by Satan’s world any more so than anyone else, including him. I do not credit my intelligence or abilties entirely for this. The fact is, I learned good judgment and common sense from my father. My messed up family life exposed me to such a diverse variety of dregs of society that I knew exactly what to avoid when I went out on my own. The other thing that helped were those same friends I made in high school from those different religious backgrounds. They have proven to be a blessing indeed. It was fortunate for me that I never was so blind to associate ‘goodness’ with any particular religion including my own former one. It helped me discern wolves in sheep’s clothing more often than many less fortunate young women who left the church and fell directly into the hands of predators who took advantage of their sheltered, naivety. Nope, a Danah Alleyne I was not. My ability to see in colour and not black and white helped me pick good friends and they bolstered me up when I was down. Of course, the biggest credit of all goes to my Creator, Divine Parent, and Loving God. Despite feeling abandoned and doubting God’s existence, God was always there.

It was fortunate for me that I never was so blind to associate ‘goodness’ with any particular religion including my own former one. It helped me discern wolves in sheep’s clothing more often than many less fortunate young women who left the church and fell directly into the hands of predators who took advantage of their sheltered, naivety.

By no means do I know everything there is to know about God but I do know this from my personal experience, God is limitless and available to everyone who seeks. I had preconceived notions of where I will discover that vital link to God, but I found it where I least expected. I have been a staunch Evangelical Christian with a strong apologetic foundation and I used to tear a non-believer to shreds with a well chosen bible verse. I know the doctrine and methods inside out. It still surprises many who only met me in my present incarnation when I start quoting scripture. I have also been a disenchanted, doubting Christian, an angry agnostic that battled constantly with fundamentalist Christians. Today I am now a free and independent theist and the anger and resentment is gone. Perhaps at some later date, when I feel a little more open about it, I may tell you the exact moment I went from agnostic to theist. Right now though, I just want to talk about where my head is at. From the vantage point where I now sit, I have a better appreciation albeit different to the fundamentalist bible view, of Christ and the scriptures themselves. However, there is no driving need in me to battle constantly with those who believe differently. I can laugh at things. I can find common ground. I can acquiesce and wish others well in their own faith. I attended Christmas Mass last year, with some friends who are like family to me and I did not see denomination or religion but only universal messages of love, peace and joy. I have explored other faiths but I am not a follower nor will I ever be a member of any sect ever again.

Sometimes I wonder where I would be if I were from a conventional family that never got divorced; if I had different parents; if I had not witnessed such rabid dysfunction within the church and in our own household; if I was never repeatedly sexually abused and see it quickly glossed over as something just mildly unpleasant by church leaders; if I was allowed proper counseling instead of just prayer and my depression treated like a serious illness and not “just being difficult”. What if I were someone who could conform easily? What if I was more eager to believe I was special and wanted to be accepted in an exclusive club chosen by God? What if I never ever had a personal crisis and disenchantment that made me question God’s existence? What if I were less educated? What if I were less brave to face the world out there and all the uncertainty and challenges that come with it? Would I still be an Evangelical Christian? What makes someone accept a certain religion all their life and another question and seek all their life?

I have been a staunch Evangelical Christian with a strong apologetic foundation and I used to tear a non-believer to shreds with a well chosen bible verse. I have also been a disenchanted, doubting Christian, an angry agnostic that battled constantly with fundamentalist Christians. Today I am now a free and independent theist and the anger and resentment is gone.

It seems so many factors influence faith. When I was a Christian and someone expressed their lack of faith in what I believed, I treated it like it was such an insult to God but really, it was more of an insult to me. It hurt my feelings. It made me feel insecure and unpopular. It made me fearful. Today I know that their lack of faith does not mean they are deliberately trying not to believe or want to be bad. When I was an agnostic it was because God was never revealed to me in any substantial way that convinced me absolutely and the religious doctrine had massive gaps in it. This was not because I was wicked and wanted to do bad things. I think anyone with common sense knows faith IS subjective. If there really was one religion that had all the answers, had the perfect formula for happiness for everyone and had universal appeal, then there would only be one religion on this planet. But no one religion does that for everyone. Then there is God. Why must there limits on the ways God must relate to different people? Who benefits by claiming a monopoly in the access to God? Why would God create such a diverse range of people and allow them to experience such a diverse range of human experiences, cultures, racial heritages, family histories, political and geograhical influences to shape their world view and personalities and sensibilities in different ways, then ask them to fit into one narrow spiritual mould? I remember I had to be in the right place, right time, right state of mind for God to be revealed to me finally. One twist in those circumstances, and who knows? So how can I today condemn or pre-judge people and assume wicked motives on their part or even that they are misquided. Perhaps they are exactly where God wants them to be at this present space and time, just as I was.

Having seen things from all sides now, perhaps the biggest contributor to the birth of a seeker is humility.

To be continued.....