Four years ago, I founded Atabey Media with a deep aspiration to understand and preserve the Dominican Afro-Taino heritage. My travels around the world have been driven by a desire to gain unique perspectives that would allow me to bridge connections between ancestral nations and our Dominican identity. However, during my recent trip to Trinidad and Tobago, I realized that to continue this work meaningfully, I must be honest with myself and intentional in my actions. The trip confronted me with moments of discomfort, revealing resistance and perhaps even some dishonesty with myself.
My journey to Trinidad and Tobago was sparked by an intense curiosity about the Caribs, also known as the Kalinago—the ancestral rivals of the Tainos. The Caribs were renowned as fierce warriors and sailors, and according to European records, they were also cannibals. It’s said that they traveled throughout the Lesser and Greater Antilles, engaging in raids where they would steal, kidnap, and eat other humans—claims that were likely exaggerated by Europeans to justify their colonization efforts. Yet, there is some truth to their fearsome reputation and even to their cannibalistic practices.
Intrigued by the Caribs, I felt compelled to visit Trinidad and Tobago to meet the descendants of these Amerindians, who, to my surprise, still uphold some of their traditions. One such tradition is the Patronal Feast of Santa Rosa, a syncretic Christian-Carib celebration that has been observed every August since 1813. The month-long celebration begins with offerings, smudging, and prayers, culminating in a mass and a procession. I attended the procession with the hope of meeting the Kalinago, but unfortunately, my research goals were not fully realized.
Before attending the procession on August 25th, I had established a connection with the Santa Rosa First Peoples Community Center, which is the hub for community gathering and research initiatives. However, when I arrived, the community leaders were unable to receive me as I had anticipated, being absorbed with the celebration’s preparations. This meant I could not conduct the interviews or gather as much information as I had intended.
Fortunately, I met Nelcia, the administrator of the center, who kindly took the time to sit with me under a traditional hut made of palm leaves, reminiscent of those our ancestors once built. The shelter housed three life-size wooden statues depicting Caribs in their traditional attire. Nelcia and I talked for about an hour, during which she shared valuable insights…
Nelcia identified herself as Garifuna and explained that when the Europeans began colonizing the Lesser Antilles, black people were already populating the islands. Historical records confirm that Caribs would raid the Greater Antilles, capturing enslaved Africans, other Amerindians, and even European settlers. The intermingling of Caribs and Africans gave rise to the Garifuna, an ethnic group now found along the coasts of Central America, but that’s a topic for another publication.
While Nelcia was open to answering my questions, I was mindful of the need to be respectful and not overstep boundaries. I wanted to enter the museum, take pictures of everything, and ask probing questions. However, I recognize my position as an outsider and acknowledge that my eagerness to learn might come across as aggressive or even neocolonial—despite being a mixed-race individual born in the Caribbean. My many years in the United States have distanced me from the lived realities of the Caribbean, making me an outsider in the eyes of some. This sense of being an outsider was evident in how the community interacted with me. I was not immediately embraced. As a young ethnographer, I am learning that quality research requires time, patience, honesty, and intention—most importantly, it requires a proper introduction. Moving forward with Atabey Media, I remain aware of my position as an outsider. I strive to be intentional about the message I convey, respecting the communities I engage with and the knowledge they share.
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