We have been at it as far back as 1921, when the Jamaican legislature saw a motion to ask the British Colonial Office to consult the other islands on the idea of a federation – this notion of regional unity, that is. We had gone on to embrace the idea officially in 1947 in Montego Bay with the formation of the Standing Closer Association Committee (SCAC) to draft a federal constitution uniting the British Caribbean territories (the then British Guiana had reserved its position awaiting developments). Our history is replete with regrets about the subsequent failed West Indies Federation, and, in recent years, with securing this elusive regional unity, and to therefore point consequently at such integers of accord as cuisine, cricket and music. The allusion to what we eat and drink as being one of our areas of commonality appears to be a stretch. Certainly the Caribbean is known for its spicy food, but we differ widely from territory to territory on the specifics. The Jamaican curry is delicious, but it is a different delicious from the Trinidad or Guyana versions; jerk cuisine soars properly only in Jamaica, as does stuffed fish in Barbados, pepperpot in Guyana, and fish broth in St. Lucia. Guyanese turn up their noses at Trinidadian mauby with its essence emphasis, as the Trinidadians mock Guyanese attempts at doubles. Even our breads are strikingly different. In cricket, as well, we remain hostage to the national sinew as each country strenuously pursues its ratio of “our boys” on the West Indies team, and newspaper editors in the various Caribbean countries often tailor their commentaries to stress the part played by the local cricketer; Shiv will feature in Guyana; Bravo or Pollard in Trinidad; Roach or Best in Barbados, etc., even in a match West Indies lost. The other burr under the unity saddle in cricket is that the national flags continue prominent at international games, almost, to a degree, identifying if not proclaiming the differences.
Music probably has the most potential for the kind of cultural glue that might emerge in the Region to help us come together beyond nationality because, like cricket, it foments across the Region, and, unlike cricket, it is not packaged in national colours or emblems. Furthermore, and again unlike cricket matches which occur occasionally, music is a continuous round-the-clock presence, and it exists everywhere – in the homes we inhabit, in the cars we drive, in our entertainment places, and, latterly, in the individual spaces of our headphones or mobile devices. It is always on. It is also in the remote corners of our countries; the Vincentian chopping bananas is listening, as is the Guyanese miner digging for gold, or the St. Lucian fisherman, or the mother in Blanchisseuse cooking pelau.