If these islands could talk: 4 days at the Anguilla Literary Festival

It starts with your slipping through a patchwork of white clouds and blue sky. Suddenly you’re staring out on a mosaic of varied and vibrant shades of blue sea. Once you’ve deplaned the spell really takes hold. The Island of Anguilla spreads out before you in hushed tones. There is a rural quality that makes you feel as if you’ve stepped back in time, where rusted fishing boats and raw, salt-sprayed beach cabins abound. There is a rocky ferry boat ride from St. Martin that – your nervous stomach withstanding – conveys the vast beauty of the surrounding islands and the turbulent sea.

A small low lying British territory – measuring only 39 square miles – you learn quickly that Anguilla is unique relative to much of the Caribbean. Colonized first by the British in the 1650s and then briefly by the French in the 1660s, Anguilla, for starters, does not share the same fraught history with slavery as the majority of the Islands – the imperialists, forced to abandon the slave trade because the island climate and infertile soil would not yield crop. In the shadow of the first Anguilla Literary Festival, the symbolism of an island and a people resistant to domination down to the very soil has a poetic resonance.

After reaching Ultimacy Villa, located on the Northeastern tip of the island and owned – as is nearly 95% of the island – by local black Caribbean proprietors, you are greeted by the stunning vistas of the Caribbean’s sapphire seas that grace postcards and feature in the popular imagination. Winding up the hillside, this place, and so many others built in a similar villa style make up, very nearly, the only developed real-estate dotting the rolling, brush covered landscape.

After a quick drink poolside, overlooking a rocky cliff that leads to the mesmerizing ocean we reach Paradise Cove Resort, the site of the first annual literary festival. There, under  brightly burning stars that can only be seen any longer in mystic places like this, a host of American actors/writers, Caribbean authors/artists – including Terry McMillan, Hill Harper, Marie-Elena John, and Sheryl Lee Ralph –  circulate the poolside bar at the center of Paradise Cove’s beautiful grounds. The energy is nervous and excited as the guests of the conference anticipate the weekend’s events.

The following day begins with a light breakfast on the spectacular terrace of Ultimacy Villa, overlooking the Caribbean Sea, the shallow waters lapping gently, sheerly over the sharp rock and coral lined shores.

The day opens with an address by distinguished Caribbean poet and publisher, Lasana Sekou, American actor and author Hill Harper, and the indefatigable Sheryl Lee Ralph. All of the presenters read from their respective works, touting inspirational messages interested in everything from the formation of national identity (Sekou) to what it means to be a true D.I.V.A (Divinely Inspired and Victoriously Anointed), compliments of Sheryl Lee Ralph.

Afterward, chatting with Hill Harper (author ofLetters to a Young Brother and fixture on CSI: NY), he crystallizes the importance of the conference and literature to the lives of specifically young black men and women,  elaborating on the importance of “cultivating your own personal Board of Directors,” essentially using literature and reading as a means of identifying and drawing on resources in communities and environments where they do not  otherwise locally exist. He also references his upcoming publication on the fractured criminal justice system in the United States and the role exceedingly high rates of recidivism have wrought on already struggling communities.

The first and perhaps most engaging panel is led by Stephanie Stokes Oliver on the current state of publishing, focusing on the pros and cons of self-publishing, the audience for black and Caribbean literature,  and the importance of identifying and writing in your own authentic voice. Names like Maryse Conde, internationally acclaimed, Guadelopean author (though lesser known in the states), and Gillian Royce, author of The Goat Woman of Largo Bay, float on the air like mysterious incantations that inspire the inner-writer and quicken the creative appetite.

Later in the afternoon Terry McMillian takes to the podium to deliver her keynote address. She is at once commanding, intimidating, profoundly accessible, and wise. While her wry sense of humor and no nonsense approach is threatening to some, she conveys a depth of feeling and truth that comes only with experience. She beseeches the writer to write as if no one is watching, as if you are telling a story to your very best friend who you haven’t seen in years. She also alludes to her upcoming work– where she contemplates a mother whose children have grown into lives incongruent with their upbringing. McMillan goes on to highlight the learning opportunity that writing offers us all, deepening our ability to empathize with the experience of the proverbial other.

After a sun drenched day full of lively discourse on writing, race, and cultural memory (the later offered by Randall Robinson during a rousing reading from his novel Makeda, which explores the loss of identity and culture along the middle passage through the story of a grandmother in America who remembers her past life as an African princess), we depart for cocktails and an evening of luxury served cool and dark at the formidable Viceroy hotel and resort. A celebrity haven, the Viceroy is sprawling, offering a breathtaking view of the beach, that, with its long, warmly lit, mosoleumesque corridors is perfect for clandestine night walks – its beach front terrace, framed in moonlight, sure enough to satisfy the dark romantic in any traveler.

After enjoying some of the local entertainment – a wonderful dance troupe singing traditional Anguillan folks songs – we’re whisked off to dinner at the incomparable Oliver’s. There we tuck into a gorgeous three course meal that starts with a fresh goat cheese salad, followed by creamy and delicate seafood compote, a sweet and warm coconut cake offering the perfect denouement. Next stop – Dreamland.

The following day we are introduced to some of Anguilla’s local literary talents (a nice change from the heavy African American perspective offered the day before) including Dwayne Adams and Particia J. Adams – mother and son. They read from their respective volumes of poetry, painting well draw portraits of the distinct cultural landscape of Anguilla. It is interesting how formal and conforming to the strictures of the British literary canon the local writers seem.

During a brief interview, Mrs. Adams speaks of the pride of the Anguillan people, and how writing is a form of documentation: “ People like to see their cultural experience reflected in works of art. Anguilla is unique, and it is those unique cultural experiences that distinguish Anguillan writers and their works.”

In the afternoon Terry McMillan once again commands the crowd – a juggernaut of insight and pragmatism. She has the group complete a writing exercise that leaves few dry eyes in the audience.

After the official close of the conference, the real fun of exploring the island begins. First stop, Sandy Island. Only 25 by 150 yards, Sandy Island offers beautiful white sand beaches, and a quiet, intimate experience. As you wade into the calm, tepid water it is easy to imagine you’re actually entering a bath that was especially drawn for you. As the sun glints off the rippling water, the healing powers of an afternoon spent like this – no matter how busy or stressed you are – justifies itself.

Back on the mainland, after an exhilarating ride on the water taxi, we’re winding through some of the local beach communities that possess a whimsy you don’t find in the more touristy parts of the island where wild dogs, aimless bovine, and ranging roosters occasionally obstruct the roadway. Onward to Scilly Cay, another small Island that offers a more private beach experience. There we are greeted by the soulful sounds of live SoCo music. The sandy dance floor is crowded with local Anguillan men swaying to the beat with beer bottles and plastic cups of rum punch balancing effortlessly on their heads in an act of cool machismo unchallenged by the fuddy duddy tourists who dance awkwardly on the periphery.  Here the music is rocking, the people are friendly, and if you’re hot, there is nothing barring you from a quick dip before refilling your drink.

A place of great mystery and beauty, Anguilla’s tranquility belies a sturdiness of spirit, and a certainty of self that is a reflection of its history and its people.  At the close of the conference, David Carty, local Anguillan, writer, film maker (his book Nuttin Bafflin went on to become a critically acclaimed documentary), and paramount seaman, delivered a speech about Anguilla and its history elegantly placing the conference into a much needed context. In that speech he repeated the rhetorical mantra, “Is there a story here?” That fact is, the literary festival was the perfect entry point to Anguilla because it is a place that indeed has many stories, and a place that is invested in telling its own story on its own terms.  Worth visiting, least of all because it possesses some of the most beautiful beaches that the Caribbean has to boast, Anguilla could teach us all a thing or two about self-determination.  Picturesque, colorful, and deeply tranquil, Anguilla is quite simply unforgettable. To be sure, if these islands could talk, they wouldn’t need to say much.

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