Sowing the Seeds of an Invisible Presence in Barbados

In this contribution that allies research and an architectural vision, Mackenzie Luke examines the engrainment of the plantation, its enslaved labor and the sugarcane monoculture’s long-standing impact on both human and non-human ecosystems. She then explains how she envisions the architectural embodiment of the counter-plantation in the larger framework of the reparations struggle Barbadian activists have been leading.

“They sowed in the depths the seeds of an invisible presence.”
Édouard Glissant, Caribbean Discourse, 1981.

The Barbadian landscape is a direct reflection of the island’s colonial past and economic development. Distinguished by large agricultural estates to cultivate sugarcane, the island was radically altered in terms of human and agricultural migration, transplantation, and settlement by the British mariners who colonized the island in 1627. The economic purpose of settlement dominated, and with the arrival of sugarcane as the main plantation cash crop, the connection between people and place became solely an economic one. The tropical fruit trees, fauna, and flora were stripped from the land to make room for sugarcane. A mélange of crops could have been grown and harvested on this fertile land, but cane was seen as the quickest and easiest way to wealth. Monoculture took over the island, and like a palimpsest, the land was constantly reworked for the purpose of making as much profit as possible from one crop. In no time at all, Barbados became a total plantation, entirely in the hands of the British planters. It was mapped, denuded, organized, and under constant surveillance with the singular goal of extracting as much profit from the soil, no matter the human and environmental cost. Cartography exposes the histories that have yielded the manipulation of land and space up to this point. Traces of a Mediated Landscape depicts an outline of Barbados with the inscriptions of plantations that existed on the island. The use of graphite highlights the many layers of constant intervention and the histories of enforced labor, slavery and colonialism.

A few years after the colonization of the islands, British planters had produced such an abundance of sugar that the Sugar Revolution was declared in Barbados. The island was one of the first colonies to produce sugar, at a time when its price was skyrocketing. By exploiting enslaved West Africans, the establishment and growth of the plantation held greater importance than the development of town centers.

A new world blossomed parallel to that of the colonial society. The counter-plantation emerged as a response to the oppressive legacy of the plantation system. The term “counter-plantation” permitted a rethinking of those who lived under the brutal regimes of slavery and emancipation. It is a site of resistance, resilience, and renewal, and its role in reclaiming land, culture, and identity comes naturally. The presence of the plantation system implied the possibility of the counter-plantation, similarly to how enslavement suggested the potential for forms of resistance and eventual escape. Haitian sociologist, Jean Casimir, has written extensively about this process. He has documented stories about how territories such as Santo Domingo and Cuba had visible counter-plantations, but since the Barbadian landscape was completely consumed by the plantation, it was impossible for counter-plantations to exist or thrive. Although it is true that the plantation dominated the island’s economy, social structures, and practically all of its landscape, enslaved Africans challenged the legacy of the plantation, and counter-plantations definitely did exist in Barbados. This form of resistance unlocked possibilities of how to build communities with methods that were contradictory to the excessive production of the plantation. The chattel house is one aspect of the Barbadian counter-plantation that reflects that while creating opportunities for so much more. 

In the post-emancipation period starting in 1834, former enslaved people sold their labor for small plots of land to build their houses on. They had no security of tenure and remained at the pleasure of the plantation owner. If the owner no longer wanted or needed them, it was necessary for workers to dismantle and move their houses to a new location. White plantation owners used housing evictions to coerce labor and attempt to devastate families after emancipation. They often threatened to undo well established social relationships and kinship networks. Chattel houses were designed to be disassembled for this reason. They were a response. Most of the land was owned by white planters so former enslaved people had no choice but to remain on the plantations. The significance for this house as a means not regulated by the law to maintain family relations and some degree of economic independence is an indication of the resilience of Barbadian people. This was a time when freed people had no independence, autonomy or sense of belonging, when the Barbadian landscape was bombarded with sugar cane and plantocracy. The chattel house was a way for individuals to creatively make sense of the circumstances that they lived in. 

Today, sugarcane is not the economic engine it once was, but the Barbadian landscape continues to be dominated by it. Drax Hall plantation, one of the first plantations to be developed on the island, still has a large, obnoxious presence in Barbados. It is still owned by the original Drax family and uses hundreds of acres of land to grow sugar cane. This plantation was witness to countless atrocities and continues to serve as a grim reminder of the ruthless efficiency that enslaved labor was exploited for profit. A model that was transferred to other colonies. Individuals all over the island and across the entire region, are growing more adamant in their demands for long-awaited sincere apologies accompanied by substantial reparations. Unlike the US where Black people with enslaved ancestors is a numerical minority of the population, Barbados has a predominantly Black population that is descended from folks who were enslaved. Reparations could go a long way, improving the entire economic condition of the population. Shouldn’t a governing body where there are records of the undeniable wealth benefited from enslaving the ancestors of this island, using their labor and efforts and profiting off their lives and deaths, not repay what was taken? There is belief that the Drax Hall plantation should be stripped from the Drax family and that the Barbadian government should gain control. But then what? What will happen to this property and land when it is in the hands of the government?

After emancipation there was a push to preserve the plantation. Today it seems as if the plantations of Barbados continue to be preserved. This is in part because it is almost impossible to access and intervene on plantation land, but also because some people believe that heritage tourism is so beneficial to the island that we must hold onto even the harshest reminders of our past. With the economy of Barbados depending heavily on tourism, it is not unexpected that this aspect would be used to attract more tourists. However, unsurprisingly most visitors come from the UK so the irony is that we are catering to the same nation that supported colonialism. Sowing the Seeds of an Invisible Presence is my manifestation of a response to this urge to keep signs of our colonial past. In order to dismantle and resist the opinions that we must have reminders and hold onto what happened decades ago, and to push back on the belief that we have no choice but to do so, I began by mapping a counter-plantation. Sewing the masterplan directly onto the land that is still occupied by Drax Hall Plantation I visualized a way that Barbadians could repossess this space.

I imagine it undergoing a meaningful transformation into a sustainable and diversified landscape, including permaculture, small scale farming, and animal husbandry. The majority of the land should be dedicated to residential purposes. Focused on community living, incorporating shared spaces and communal amenities to foster a sense of community and belonging. Villages should grow organically just like the strongest villages in Barbados. Zooming in, I worked through expressive, colorful pictorial representations of these villages. Fragments of a Bajan Village shifts between plan, elevation and perspective staging symbols of Barbadian culture embedding expressions of togetherness, solidarity, and stewardship that exist today within this landscape. These works invite us into the realm of close-knit communities that act as family, with small-scale farming, and a village center. Combining residential and agricultural land use, promoting sustainable practices that were never considered during the colonial times, and involving community governance. The counter-plantation has the potential to provide food security, create employment opportunities, and promote environmental sustainability while cultivating a sense of community and strengthening the cultural identity of the island.

The trauma and negativity of Barbados’s shared past does not have to be the blueprint of the future. Drax Hall plantation should not be left untouched or preserved. In spite of the pain and upheaval this land has witnessed, we can seek alignment in the land that has been out of use for decades. According to Martiniquan philosopher Édouard Glissant, enslaved people planted the seeds of their culture in the depths of their being, where they could not be seen or easily destroyed. He suggests that the legacy of slavery in the Caribbean is not just one of oppression and violence, but also one of resilience and creativity. Despite the attempts to erase their culture and history, enslaved people managed to maintain a sense of identity and community through their cultural practices, which continue to shape the Caribbean today. Reparations in Barbados are transitioning from a request to a demand. Implying that the wrongdoings and violence of past ancestral generations are not the responsibility of our generation today, means that neither should the hereditary wealth and monetary benefits that came directly from the crimes of the former. Benefits go hand in hand with accountability, especially when it boils down to inheritance. ■