June 16th marks the 77th anniversary of the Enmore Martyrs: Rambaran, Lall, Lallabagie, Surujballi, and Harry. These were five sugar plantation laborers who were brutally gunned down by the colonial police of Guyana while on strike at Plantation Enmore, East Coast Demerara in 1948.
During chattel slavery, the brutal conditions of the sugar plantations concentrated in the Caribbean are well documented. It was the origin of slavery and colonialism that contributed to the hostile working conditions that sugar workers suffered while Europeans continued to enjoy the spoils of their colonial exploitation.
From historian Tota Mangar at the Guyana Chronicle:
“The Enmore Strike of 1948 originated from the general dissatisfaction of labourers with their deplorable conditions of work and living.
Wages were far from satisfactory. In fact, they were considered extremely low. At the same time, the cost of living index had moved from 95 to 247 between 1939 and 1948 largely as a consequence of World War Two. What it meant was that the workers’ circumstances were deteriorating with each passing year. Further, in spite of repeated demands to improve the existing wage rate, the Sugar Producers Association (SPA) remained intractable.
At Enmore, the old system of ‘cut and drop’ had given way to a far more arduous task of ‘cut and load’ the punts. This system made the work of cane-cutters more demanding and at the same time caused punt-loaders to be redundant. Indeed, ‘cut and load’ proved to be extremely strenuous and hazardous, especially during the rainy season.
In addition, there was the faulty weighing of cane which the workers felt was deliberate. This practice resulted in loss of pay, workers’ dissatisfaction, and deteriorating industrial relations.
Moreover, potable water was not available, transportation facilities were practically non-existent, dismissals without just cause were rife, and housing and sanitary conditions were most appalling. The barrack-type logies were in a state of advanced decay, dilapidation, and general disrepair. A 1937 commission report had recommended their replacement with four-block dwellings and structures of a more private nature, but the response of the employer class was both slow and inconsistent.
Professional medical care on the plantation left much to be desired and illnesses associated with mosquitoes and water-borne diseases were prevalent. Of added significance was the workers’ disenchantment with the recognized union of the day, the Manpower Citizens Association (MPCA).
This union was led by Mr. Ayube Mohamed Edun, who saw the need to have a separate union in the sugar industry. The MPCA was accorded recognition by the powerful Sugar Producers Association following recommendations of the Commission of Inquiry into the 1939 strike at Plantation Leonora, West Coast Demerara. It appeared that in the years following recognition, the MPCA lost much of its militancy as it made very little progress against the SPA. Workers, for their part, felt they were being betrayed by the union which was evidently not doing enough for them. Against such a background, the Guiana Industrial Workers Union (GIWU), the forerunner of the Guyana Agricultural and General Workers Union (GAWU), was formed in April 1948. At its helm were dynamic leaders, Joseph Prayal Lachmansingh, Amos A. Rangela, and Jane Phillips Gay, and it was this union which gave workers a ray of hope.
He continues:
“The strike itself began on April 22, 1948 at Plantation Enmore and it quickly spread to neighboring East Coast plantations including Non Pariel, Mon Repos, Lusignan, La Bonne Intention, Vryheid’s Lust, and Ogle. As the weeks progressed, the strike gained momentum as more and more workers joined in the struggle. On that fateful day, June 16, 1948, the striking workers, as usual, gathered outside the Enmore Estate Compound. With tension running high, some of them attempted to enter the compound and it was at that stage the police took unwarranted action. Without warning, they opened fire into the crowd. Some workers were even shot in their backs as they attempted to escape the onslaught.
All told, five sugar workers lost their lives and 14 others were severely injured. Those who perished were Rambarran, who sustained two bullets to his leg; Lall called ‘Pooran’, who was shot in his leg and received a gaping three-inch wound above his pelvis; Lallabagie Kissoon, who was shot in the back; Surujballi called ‘Dookie’ also shot in the back; and Harry, shot in the spine.”
An Ode to Sugar by Akilé Anai
Sweet sensations carry through the limbs
with just a speck on the tip of my tongue,
arouses an addiction I can parade around with-
out fear of being the poster child for the cause of
rehabilitation.
What taste compares to a cube dropped inside the finest
of Asia’s tea or paired with Africa’s cocoa bean?
And if it’s mixed with the spilled blood of its laborers
are they appropriate hopes that it cuts from my coffee,
its bitter flavor?
This recipe calls for two cups of color stripped cane,
but the health influencer recently announced
that if a skinnier physique is what I long to obtain
I must refrain. My journey then begins a search for
sweetener, ethically sourced, of course.
Someone ought to tell Antigua that
the crop in which she tortured over
diet culture has found no use for.
A new reality exposes, everything sweet ain’t
what it seems.
Sugar Scars by Akilé Anai
There's sweat on her brow
But she hasn't stopped to swipe
It clean. She sighs in that
Deep way I know well.
I don't speak.
Instead I keep tilling
This blood-soaked land
Wondering how it still bears sweet
Fruit.
Her steps are light, in fact
Though her load is heavy
As she walks a mile, or several
We lose count as we're called in.
Hauling bin after bin, her skin
Is scorched.
That mahogany hue
Which greets me from my sleep,
But as we clean the day off
In winding streams,
Her undertones are blue.
And her eyes are already
Dreaming. She goes some place then,
Where we've never gone together,
It must be sacred, safer there.
I don't bother asking, to not appear
As yet another intruder.
Had she the opportunity to
Experience, even a second in this life,
Going unseen?
'Cause those men that sit
Atop their porches almost always
Have their eyes peeled wide.
I used to wonder if they sleep
But those were thoughts of the
Naïve.
Perhaps I'd hoped, because that would
Prove they aren't like me,
Like man.
They sleep well.
Enough rest to round us
At the break of another
Sad dawn.
And she is the first to rise
With that sigh, I know so well.
She has surrendered to a life of
Plucking and picking,
And that incenses me, totally.
We don't know each other's names
Likely because we've forgotten
Our own and still,
My soul is uneasy seeing
Her softness turn hard,
To live this life collecting
Sugar scars.
