Paradise Lost?
The island of Barbuda has long been one of the last bastions of the ‘old’ Caribbean; ramshackle, undeveloped and charming. All that is now at risk as Sam Jefferson reports
Iwas recently chatting with someone who participated in one of the Atlantic rallies in the 2000’s. The person in question asked the organiser, a noted old seadog sometimes prone towards being a touch querulous, ‘what are the best places to visit in the Caribbean by boat?’ to which he replied: ‘nowhere, it’s all ruined!’ Now, this is a pretty dark prognosis and definitely a bit unfair but every sweeping statement has a grain of truth and there are many corners of the Caribbean that are a touch overdeveloped. Until recently though, this was not a charge you could lay on the shores of the island of Barbuda. This low island not far from Antigua and part of the principality, is all white sandy beaches, azure waters and mangrove swamps. At its heart is the ramshackle village of Codrington. It’s not an easy approach for a yacht with any sort of draft and you have to work your way in towards an epically long beach that offers precious little protection if the wind blows from the wrong direction or the swell gets up. Yet it’s worth the trouble. When I was there in 2012, people seemed genuinely delighted that I had made it – which is not something I have experienced many places in the Caribbean where there is often an air of weariness as yet another demanding tourist arrives in their midst. Perhaps some of this bonhomie stemmed from the fact that Barbudans had been bequeathed the land on Barbuda by their former slave masters, the Codrington family, in 1834. This meant that all land was owned communally - an anomalous state of affairs that seemed to suit the inhabitants.
Yet there is a very real danger that this small haven of tranquility is about to be disturbed. The trouble started in 2017 when Hurricane Irma hit, severely damaging the island. At the time Antiguan presidet Gaston Browne said the 1,700 inhabitants were to be moved to the mainland for their own safety and would return ‘when it was safe’. Some have never returned. In the meantime, an act was passed dissolving the old communal ownership of land and allowing Barbudans to buy the freehold on their land. With the population gone, heavy machinery was moved in to begin the ‘reconstruction’ which included a private airport. This was needed as it would serve new investors who were able to exploit loopholes in the new land laws to build luxury resorts of the sort scattered liberally throughout the Caribbean.
Construction has already begun on a whole range of projects beyond the airport which involve golf courses and big resorts all being constructed in the vicinity of important wetland areas which support a fragile ecosystem that is home to a frigate bird sanctuary, a turtle nesting site and endangered species including the upside-down jellyfish, the West Indian whistling duck and the Barbudan warbler among other creatures.
All of this sounds suspiciously like a tragedy and a classic case of disaster capitalism and a number of cases are rumbling through the courts as we speak. I think it’s fair to say that the opponents deserve our support and it’s shocking that the story is so little known.
One note of caution though that must give pause for thought; It is very easy to judge all of this from our ivory tower over here in Europe. Although the situation in Barbuda looks pretty cut and dried, it is rare that everything is totally black and white. To use an example, I recall taking a sailing trip down through the Islands from Antigua to Martinique a few years back. On the way we stopped off at many islands and both me and my then girlfriend agreed the Dominica was our favourite island. Part of this is unsurprising as it is such a lush mountainous island that is verdant and feels truly exotic. It was, also extremely undeveloped and this added substantially to its charm.
This was particularly striking when you contrasted it with nearby Martinique and Guadeloupe. Both of these islands are French colonies that are essentially part of France and benefit from all the same grants and government support that the mainland does. This meant that, after wandering along narrow, pot-holed roads on Dominica, we found ourselves in a taxi in Martinique blasting along a billiard smooth dual carriageway enroute to the airport. The contrast was not favourable to a pair of Europeans looking to get away from it all. Yet, chatting to the taxi driver, I had to admit that it sounded like he had a pretty good quality of life. I contrasted this with conversations we had with people on Dominica, who - at the time at least (this was 2014) - clearly had very little at all and were not terribly thrilled about it. Yet we loved Dominica because it felt authentic. Authentically poor.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that this is how things are in Barbuda. It looks like a pretty classic land grab by investors but It is food for thought. The other point is that, as tourism develops, those who wish to develop Barbuda may be destroying its greatest attraction to future tourists; the nature, peace and isolation that this beautiful corner of paradise affords.
The other thing about Barbuda back in 2012 was that, in contrast to many in Dominica who seemed unhappy with the way things were going, the general vibe on Barbuda was one of exuberant happiness. We must hope that the legal battles go the way of the locals.