Tuesday 5 November 2013

Pé, Ti Garcan é Kaboué: Jounnen Kweyol 2013

Independence season is drawing to a close here in Dominica. Yesterday, Sunday 3rd of November marked 35 years of (formal) independence for the Nature Isle. 

The previous weekend Friday was Jounen Kweyol (creole day), a day of creole food, dress and Kweyol/Patwa language being spoke in workplaces (offices, shops, restaurants) island wide. The festivities also included a Creole dress parade. 
One thing that stood out during the parade was the presence of a number of fathers walking with their sons pushing traditional style kaboués (karts) and trucks. These karts and trucks are constructed from wood and reused materials (e.g. corned beef tins for front bonnets) and painted in various colours.The making of them and walking with them is a traditional past time that now endures as a part of the Independence/creole season celebrations. 
Dominicans are deeply and reflexively aware of their Culture - as an array of heritable performative traditions - being more pronounced than elsewhere in the Antilles, and they consciously work hard during the Independence season to keep its spirit strong.

These fathers have been actively engaged by the teachers of one of Roseau's primary schools (Convent Preparatory School I believe) to lend their knowledge of the practice of making these trucks and karts - notably the complex string/wire steering system - with their sons. Activities of a technical nature - such as building, making, fixing - are popular modes of father-son teaching and guidance among fathers who spend time with their sons. 

I would argue that this is another notable example of the increasingly visible public profile of fatherhood in the Antilles and the availability of fatherhood as a constituting aspect of mature masculine being for some men. 















Thursday 15 August 2013

Too young to be a dad?



This post features a newspaper article focusing on the experiences of young fathers predominantly of ethnic minorities living in the UK. 

Whilst only a few of the fathers featured are of Caribbean descent, their experiences - of a gendered legal system that marginalizes their paternal role(s) and rights; of negotiating brittle relations with mothers whom they are not together with; and the men's embrace of fatherhood as a central aspect of their being against a tide of negative ideas - intimately resonates with the realities I observe in the Antilles.  

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Too young to be a dad?

Teenage fathers who want to be involved in their children's lives often find the odds stacked against them. Yvonne Roberts talks to five proud young men who battled to take on the role


The Observer, Sunday 11 August 2013

 Cory Ellison
‘That’s my son’: Cory Ellison, 16, with Riley-Romero. Cory has his son’s name and birthday tattooed on his arm. Photograph: Suki Dhanda for the Observer

"Mark" and "Lucy" had been together for three years, on and off, at school when, aged 16, Lucy became pregnant. Soon after, the relationship ended. "I told her I'd broken up with her but I hadn't broken up with our baby," says Mark, now 20. "Right from the beginning, I wanted to be a proper dad and do what you're supposed to do."

For two years, Mark has had Katie two days a week, helped by his parents and sister. During that time he has also been fighting through the courts for full custody of his daughter, who is in the care of her maternal grandmother. Several months after Katie's birth, social services had become concerned about Lucy's drinking. Now, she sees her daughter once a week.
In Mark's case, to show the strength of his intent to the judge and social workers, he abandoned his ambition to become an engineer, found a full-time job in retail, took courses in parenting and asked his employer to give him a character reference for the courts. "He said I had great potential. I've already been promoted. I'm not bigging myself up, but that's not bad for a 20-year-old," says Mark.
"I've asked for an independent social worker because Katie's social worker treats me as if I'm invisible," he adds. "The assumption is that because I'm young I can't be responsible. At one point they tried to say I was working on the days I have Katie but it was all there on the company records. I want to take Katie for a week's holiday. It's in England, not Spain, but her grandma has said no. So it's back to court, again and again. All I'm trying to do is the right thing. I know she's the grandma but being the dad has to count for something, too."
Given how often the stereotype of the feral jobless teenager, fathering a tribe of offspring with different women, figures in the media, it is perhaps surprising that no statistics are kept on the number of "young fathers" – classified as anyone becoming a dad under the age of 24, and often much younger. What is known is that, unlike Mark, many have had only a fleeting relationship with the mother but still want to play a positive role as a father. What often stands in their way is a system that frequently focuses on the child first, the mother second and turns the dad into a shadow – even though, like Mark, he may have the support of his entirefamily.

"The reality of modern-day Britain is that many of the fathers we work with have never had a relationship with the mother of their child. Nevertheless, they still want to stay involved," says Shane Ryan, 41, chief executive of the award-winning charity Working With Men (WWM), which recruits its workers from the communities from which the young dads come, and sticks with them to improve their qualifications, employment opportunities and life skills. "We need to think about the different concepts of family life. The system needs to be flexible enough to deal with that variety."

Olatunde Kareem with his son Aaron, aged 3















‘For too long our culture has treated boys who become fathers as detached misfits’: Olatunde Kareem, 21, with his son Aaron, three. Photograph: Suki Dhanda for the Observer

Ryan says many of the young men he works with are already marginalised, from ethnicminority groups or less affluent backgrounds; some may have come from families with a history of abuse or mental health issues, or have been in trouble at school. "Once they become dads, too often that pattern of exclusion begins again. They are expected to fail when they have assets and love to offer. Some teenage mothers, support services and grandparents can make it extremely difficult for them to gain a foothold in their children's lives."

Cory Ellison is 16. He is polite, articulate and smart and, when we first meet in early May, he has plans. He has no qualifications, no home and, until his benefits are sorted, he has no income but he does have a new tattoo on his right arm. Large, calligraphy-rich letters spell the name "Riley-Romero" and the date, 19/03/13. Cory's face lights up with pleasure and pride. "That's my son," he says with a broad smile. Riley-Romero's mother, Jordan, is also 16 and she has been in foster care for 10 years. She says the baby weighed 6lb 1oz, and was born after two hours of labour with Cory in attendance.

"When she first told me I didn't take it seriously," says Cory. "To be honest, I didn't know her all that well. Now, we've bonded. I think she's wonderful." They spend most of their time in his hostel, at the park or taking Riley-Romero to the Horniman Museum in south London. "We chill out. I'd rather go and see my son than my friends. Friends are mad. You can be influenced so quickly and do something you regret. I have to be mature now. So I'd rather be safe than sorry. Everyone has the choice to sell drugs and that. Riley is the reason I don't. He's the reason I want to be a businessman. He matters."

Cory's own parents split up when he was very young. Earlier this year his mother threw him out of the house. "She said that I couldn't take anything that she had paid for…" That included his clothes and his school uniform. He was in Year 10 aiming to take five GCSEs. He is not in school now but he wants to go back; he lives in a hostel. "I'm the youngest in the place. The first two days I couldn't sleep, I was scared. It was the first time I realised, nobody's going to protect me now."

Disruption has been a pattern in his life. At the age of 10, he was sent to Florida to live with Gloria, his grandmother. "I was bad in primary school. Rude to teachers and that. It took two years for her to sort out my behaviour. It wasn't meant to take so long but it did." He smiles shyly.
Cory has all the right intentions but he is in a system that appears designed to sabotage every young father's efforts to stay involved in his child's life. In housing, for instance, residential units are mostly for mother and baby and the benefits system doesn't bend easily to parents who split the care of a child, while the attitudes of some professionals is highly negative. One young dad at Working With Men says, "When I showed them our birth plan and said I was going to be there, the midwife said, 'I expect you'd rather be with your mates.'"

According to the Office for National Statistics, 47.2% of the 723,913 babies born in England and Wales in 2011 had a mother and a father who were not married or in a civil partnership. The proportion of children who begin life without a resident father is higher in Britain that in most other European countries, though in a 2005 study 45% of non-resident fathers had attended the birth. But if the relationship between father and mother is fragile, and the mother denies access, many teenage fathers lack the resources to fight for the right to be in their child's life.
Since the 1970s the academics Charlie Lewis and Michael E Lamb, among others, have challenged stereotypical and one-dimensional portrayals of fathers as "deadbeat dads" or "play partners" incapable of the serious business of rearing a child. Professor Lamb argues that "good enough" fathers perform very similar roles to that of "good enough" mothers; they offer love, interest, boundaries and security. More recent research suggests that both the quantity and quality of father-child interactions during the early childhood years can lead to fewer behavioural problems, greater emotional self-regulation, increased language development and improved cognitive functioning for young children. Evidence shows that the more fathers engage with their babies, the more likely their relationships with their children will be sustained over years, in spite of divorce or separation.


Ali Hakeem Lahrech, 18, with girlfriend and baby
'I was there at the birth. I’ve read everything I can about child psychology': Ali Hakeem Lahrech, 18, with his girlfriend Sarah, and their baby boy. Photograph: Suki Dhanda for the Observer

There are plenty of success stories at WWM: Olatunde Kareem is 21, his son Aaron is three, he works 12-hour shifts, managing security, and tells me proudly that his girlfriend Deborah is in her second year at university. Ali Hakeem Lahrech, 18, has been a father for two weeks when we meet: "I was there at the birth," he says. "I've read everything I can about child psychology."
For young fathers, however, the barriers to becoming a "good enough" dad are multiple and complex not least because, too often, their own needs aren't addressed. Many have little or no contact with midwives, health visitors, social workers or the staff of children's centres. A study for the Department of Work and Pensions published last year describes "a cycle of disengagement". "Low self-esteem leads to an inability to find appropriate support both because of a reluctance to seek [it] and a lack of available services. That leads to increased frustration and conflict with the mother."
report by the charity Barnardo's, "Are We Nearly There Yet, Dad?"shows that while there are individual projects such as the Barnardo's BabyFather Initiative working in children's centres, there is very little tailor-made help. Nevertheless, some young dads, like Mark, refuse to give up. Shane Ryan says the numbers of young fathers who try to win custody when mothers experience difficulties is rising.

"It's very difficult for many of these young men," says Chris Facey, a WWM Young Fathers Development worker. "They have to sit through meetings with lawyers and social workers. Everyone has a negative perception of their abilities and they have to keep their cool. At risk is the real chance that if they show their frustration, even by an inch, their child may be put up for adoption. It happens. It takes maturity to handle a situation like that."

"All I hear from the social worker is build up your relationship this, build up your relationship that," another young dad tells me. "Well hold on a minute, if the mum is not willing to build on that relationship, then how are you meant to do it?"

The battle to maintain a set of relationships can be hard: grandparents disapprove; new boyfriends and girlfriends come and go; plans are measured in hours not weeks, money is short. Eight weeks after Cory and I first meet, Jordan says they have had "a little misunderstanding". She hasn't seen him lately; his mobile phone number has changed. Yet Cory had wanted so badly to be the right kind of dad.

Mark S Kiselica writes in When Boys Become Parents, "For too long our culture has treated boys who become fathers… as detached misfits who are the architects of many of our nation's problems, rather than seeing these youth for who they really are: young men trying to navigate a complex array of difficult life circumstances that place them at a tremendous disadvantage." Investment in high-quality compulsory relationship education in schools and a national holistic service for young parents would benefit children, mums and dads. It would save the taxpayer money in the long run, since absent and neglectful dads also exact a cost, as many of the young fathers interviewed testified about their own childhoods. "They can become the men they want to be," says Shane Ryan.

Christopher Ferguson, 25, with his daughter Soraya, 5
‘I tried bringing her up tomboyish but she’s not having it’: Christopher Ferguson, 25, with Soraya, five. Photograph: Suki Dhanda for the Observer

Owen Thomas, who manages the WWM Fathers Development team, introduces me to Christopher Ferguson, 25, whose daughter, Soraya, is five. Chris shows me a photograph of a striking little girl smiling in a party frock. "I tried to bring her up tomboyish," Chris says, smiling. "But she's not having it. She likes her dresses." I ask who does Soraya's hair, immaculate in bunches. "Every lady asks that," Chris says amiably. "I do her hair. It's like ladies don't expect you to be up for that kind of thing. When Soraya was younger, women in the street felt they had the right to say, 'You're not holding her right.' They wouldn't do that with another woman. Now Soraya is older, they say to her, 'Are you with your daddy for the day?'"

Chris has cared for her full time since she was a baby. Now Soraya is in full-time school, he is looking for a job to fit round school hours. "And that's not easy." The two live on £148.50 in benefits a week. Chris has £600 in debt that he is also paying off. In the early years, he and Soraya moved from bed and breakfast to hostels to temporary accommodation but now they live in a two-bedroom social housing flat, close to her school. "Financially we are trying to do a lot on a little but we get by."

Soraya's mother, Naomi, was brought up in care. "We weren't very involved. No hand-holding stuff and that. Then, when I found out she was pregnant, I asked for a DNA test and signed the birth certificate so I have parental responsibility. I was very intent on certain things for my daughter." After Soraya was born, he and her mother shared care. "But Naomi started to leave Soraya with me for days at a time. I couldn't turn up for work and when there were redundancies I was the first to go." Chris now has sole charge of Soraya. "The system worked for me but for a lot of young dads it doesn't. The mum trumps all. Some dads give up, behave macho and act as if they don't care but they feel those emotions. I know they do."

Naomi now has a two-year-old son. Chris tries to maintain regular contact between Soraya and her mother but he says it's difficult. "I try to deal with it all positively. It's important for Soraya. When people ask her a question she can say, 'Yes, that's my mum.'
"I've got great parents," he adds. "I was raised with a very strong idea about parenthood and responsibilities. I was worried in the early stages that there wouldn't be enough feminine energy around Soraya but she sees a lot of my family and my girlfriend's family. It's me and her but we're not closed in."

Chris says he keeps a tight domestic ship: bed by seven on school days, plenty of fruit and veg (lamb tagine is on the menu tonight. Pre-Soraya, he lived on fast food). "Our set-up is how men like to parent. Rules are rules and that doesn't change." He smiles. "I think she's brilliant. She's bright as light."



Wednesday 24 July 2013

Fathermen: An Open Anthropological Platform

An article I recently wrote about Fathermen for Starbroek News of Guyana


Fathermen: An Open Anthropological Platform


Adom Philogene Heron is a doctoral candidate in Social Anthropology and associate of the Centre for Caribbean, Latin American and Amerindian Studies (CAS) at the University of St. Andrews, Scotland. He is editor and author of a blog called ‘Fathermen’, the outgoing sibling of a PhD project he is currently undertaking on fatherhood and men’s experiences of family life in Dominica, Eastern Caribbean. The blog seeks to render accessible the themes of his research to a broad audience and open up a public conversation on fatherhood, masculinities and family amongst Caribbean peoples.
in the diaspora
The work of socio-cultural anthropology is to document, elucidate and communicate understandings of human social and cultural experience. Given this almost infinitesimally broad remit – to study any and all things human – anthropologists tend to focus on the particular. Thus, the minutiae and details of particular social phenomena, cultural contexts, geographic locales, and individual lives constitute the bread and butter of the discipline.
Yet with this penchant for the particular comes a preoccupation with the peculiar, the bizarre and the esoteric. Whilst not inherently problematic – anthropologists have produced a great number of fascinating and important studies drawing attention to marginalised forms of social experience – this preoccupation too often results in our conversations becoming somewhat insular. Aside from fieldwork our discussions are usually confined to seminar rooms, lecture theatres and museums, and occur amongst other academics (area specialists, fellow anthropologists or social scientists). By and large those with the biggest stake in our work are excluded from the conversations we engage in. Our ‘informants’, the people whose voices and life-ways we profess to represent are often forgotten, as if they couldn’t possibly understand our ‘heighty-tighty’ (to use a Dominican term for uppity) analyses of their lives.
However, in recent years there has been a concerted effort to ‘open up’ anthropology, by incorporating subjects’ voices into ethnographic accounts and displacing the traditional anthropological gaze through ‘native anthropology’/’anthropology at home’. At the level of publishing we have witnessed a move towards internet based discussion networks, open source journals and blogging.
The Fathermen blog falls firmly within this unfolding vision of an open anthropology. Launched in January 2012, Fathermen is the extroverted twin of an ethnographic research project I am currently undertaking on fatherhood and men in Dominican family life. Although my work focuses specifically on Dominica, I believe that the themes, social patterns and experiences I encounter in my fieldwork ‘speak to’ Caribbean realities throughout the region and beyond. As such the blog’s scope is broad: I post commentaries, videos, personal memoirs, essays, radio shows, short stories, photographs and poetry on all things associated with men and family life. Examples include a recent post entitled ‘The Plight of the ‘Paro’’, a short commentary on homelessness in Roseau; some images from a Fathers Day photography exhibition that I organized entitled ‘Look a Fada!’; and a critical analysis of UNWomen’s ‘Yes We Care’ TV advertisements in Trinidad and Tobago.
At present Fathermen functions not so much to inform others of research conclusions as to share emerging fieldwork meditations, half formed ideas I am in the process of trying to make sense of. Currently I am in the middle of research, dwelling in Dominica for approximately 18 months and as such I am yet to draw any firm analytic conclusions (even if provisional patterns are starting to gradually present themselves). Therefore, (for now) the fundamental goal of Fathermen is to open-up debate and contribute to an already growing public conversation on Caribbean men’s roles, practices and experiences vis families in the 21st century Caribbean world. The posts I have contributed thus far represent a series of fieldwork reflections in response to encounters I have had, newspaper articles read, events attended, incidents observed, videos I have seen, and discussions shared. I cross-post Fathermen entries on Facebook, through Diasporic social networking sites such as Dominicadiaspora.com (DD) and on occasion I submit them to Dominica News Online (DNO), an internet based newspaper. Dominica has a deeply engaged internet public, both domestic and overseas, who candidly comment on anything posted on either DD or DNO; therefore these sites provide good virtual spaces of critique, commendation and exchange of ideas.
My hope is that all Caribbean peoples can claim a stake in this little blog, hence as wide an audience as possible should be able to contribute to its polyvocal making. After all, every one of us has a father in some shape or form. If not an accessible physical father, then an idea, an ideal image of what a father is or should be; a mother who metaphorically fathers; a ‘sperm donor’; a psychic figurative space where we would want a father to be or he once was; a grandfather, a godfather, a step-father; an all mighty Father! From plantation to present the figure of the father has been itinerant and amorphous. Whilst many Caribbean peoples speak of fatherhood’s generic profile in various modes of absentia, most will readily admit that no singular typology of Caribbean fatherhood exists. In a sense then, the very idea of the father in the Antilles, reflects the existential landscape of Caribbeanness –  ‘an open frontier’ of evolving plurality, hybridity and differentiation, as recently deceased Haitian scholar Michel- Rolph Trouillot has astutely pointed out.  The point I am making (in a round-about way) is that the subject matter of the blog matters in an everyday sense to the region. Hence I invite any and all to participate in it – as contributors, commentators (in comments boxes) and critical readers.
American anthropologist Marshall Sahlins notes that,
“Kinsmen are people who live each other’s lives and die each other’s deaths. To the extent that they lead common lives, they partake in each other’s sufferings and joys, sharing one another’s experiences as they take responsibility for and feel each other’s acts.”
The story of Fathermen, or better the research project preceding and underpinning it, begins in the vast and dispersed world of kinship I inhabit. That is, it begins in diasporic imaginings cast across a vast transatlantic field of familial intimacy and separation. These imaginings connect Bristol, the English port city of my birth, a slave-trading capital built on the profits of British sugar, tobacco and cocoa, where my arrivant maternal grandparents set up new lives, raised 5 children and found work at Wills Tobacco and Fry’s Cadbury Chocolate factories respectively; with Dominica, the rugged verdant island home from whence they departed in 1956, leaving behind the familiar rhythms of daily life, friends and family (including several ‘outside children’). My grandfather Peter Mendes Philogene retired and returned to the small fishing village of his birth in Dominica, some 29 years after leaving. My grandmother, Alaskar Philogene – despite speaking daily of somewhere else called ‘home’ – was never to return to Dominica in all her 41 years of life in Bristol.
On the 19th of December 2010, several months after I had moved home to Bristol following my undergraduate studies, I received a message from my cousin (also grandson of Mendes and Alaskar) telling me of the arrival of his son into the world and asking me if I would be consider becoming the godfather. I said yes without hesitation. Since my graduation three months earlier I had been contemplating the idea of further study. This news of my new role in the new life of my cousin’s progeny, and more importantly what I observed of my cousin’s attentive and committed fatherhood, prompted me to begin meditating on what it means to be and become a father. And with such meditations this enquiry came into being.
On the 24th of March 2012, 6 months after beginning to transform these thoughts into a PhD project, I received another message, this time from a cousin in Dominica. The message read that our grandfather, Mendes, now a returnee in Dominica from Bristol, was unwell. I messaged her back immediately telling her I had notified the family in the UK and that my mother would call her. She replied the following day after visiting our Grandfather,
“…. I did tell him that I communicated with your mom and he seemed extremely pleased – he was giving so many kisses – I think I got the kisses for all of you. This must mean something. I would attempt to call your mom from the hospital, but he won’t be able to respond so I am not sure whether this makes any sense.”
Peter Mendes Philogene – great-grandfather of my godson, grandfather of my cousins and me, and father of my mother, uncle and aunts – passed away at 1:15am on the 25th March 2012. Sadly my studies prohibited me from attending the funeral. I would arrive in Dominica to begin my fieldwork some months later on the 2nd October 2012 – this being only my second visit to the island, my first visit and only meeting with my grandfather coming as a small child in 1987. Upon first returning to my grandfather’s village in the second week of October last year, an aunt introduced me to my Grandfather’s best friend. Tears welled up in the eyes of the tall broad framed old man as he studied my face and gently gripped my hand in an extended handshake. “I feel like I’ve arrived too late”, I told him. Gathering himself he looked back at me with a warm smile, then with a sudden tone of assurance he reminded me “nothing happens before its time”.
Locating its moment of departure between a birth and death, this personally motivated project is marked by the beginning and end of the life-course of the father. The birth of a first child signifies the coming of fatherhood and the death of a grand-, or indeed great-grandfather signifies its closure.
Both Fathermen and the ethnographic enquiry from which it derives are dedicated to the memory of my Grandfather Mendes and the life of Milan.
A Call to Contribute:
I am of the belief that all of us possess anthropological faculties. In other words, we all have the capacity to reflect upon, enquire about and ask questions of the social worlds that surround us. Therefore, I invite readers to make a submission Fathermen. My modest hope is that many of the readers of this column will share it widely and take up this invite. A submission can take the form of a descriptive personal narrative/memoir/history of a father, uncle, godfather, big brother, grandfather …etc during your childhood, his old age, or his passing; a poem; a short story; a commentary;  old photographs with captions etc… or any other suggestions.
For more information on Fathermen submissions or any of themes discussed please email Adom at: aph7@st-andrews.ac.uk
To visit the blog, see: http://fathermen.blogspot.co.uk/

Tuesday 16 July 2013

Dominica Journals


Here's a re-post of a video - short documentary portrait, a snapshot of the everyday life of a Fern carver, husband and father in Dominica's Kalinago territory - that I posted on fathermen some months back (Nom Figwe: A brief portrait of a Kalinago Fern tree Carver in Dominica)

I have chosen to re-post the video in light of my recent (yet late) discovery of an excellent magazine entitled Dominica Journals, edited by Paul Crask, one of the producers of the Nom Figwe video. The first edition (embedded below) features an article, also entitled Nom Figwe, which offers the reader a descriptive contextual framing of the original video and tells us about the life of its protagonists.

The magazine is of particular interest to me as an anthropologist because its content is deeply ethnographic in its richness of narrative detail and attention to the nuances of everyday lived experience on the island.

I commend Mr Crask for this fantastically produced yet under-recognized publication whilst my excitement and anticipation builds for the second edition.

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Paul Crask is a travel writer, photographer and freelance journalist. For more on his work please visit his website:




Friday 12 July 2013

[another belated Father's Day post] .A Father’s Day 2013 Exhibition (16.6.13)

[here is the exhibition outline for a small Father's Day exhibition we held in Newtown Dominica]


Look a Fada!’

A Father’s Day 2013 Exhibition (16.6.13)
In Association withChildFund Caribbean and CariMAN Dominica




All Photos taken by
Adom Philogene Heron and Dr Ramona Biholar

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This exhibition aims to highlight the increasingly visible public presence of fathering in Dominica.

It documents and celebrates the seemingly mundane everyday activities that fathers engage in with their children: such as walking through their village on the way to school, spending time with them on the weekend or going to a special event or celebration with one’s children (such as African Liberation day or Jazz and Creole).

Fathering is in a state of transformation in Dominica and across the Antilles. Fatherly care, intimacy and closeness to one’s child are becoming increasingly valued by men in the region and many men draw great pride from being seen in public holding their infants or just spending time with their offspring. Whilst concerns about absence and irresponsibility persist in Dominica and the wider region, many men continue to work silently to support, guide and care for their children, in positive alliance with their children’s mothers. Today we salute such fathers. Today is your day.
On behalf of CariMAN Dominica and ChildFund Caribbean,


“Happy Fathers Day”

[a Sample of the Photographs]













Thursday 11 July 2013

A Belated Father's Day Post





[Apologies for the lateness of this one. I am currently back in the UK for a short while and as such I'm taking the opportunity to catch up on some writing and attend to unfinished posts. Here's a delayed Father's day post] 



'Look a Fada'

Fathers Day 2013 in Dominica

@Harlem Plaza, Newtown, Roseau (16.6.13)

Harlem Plaza


Sunday was Father's Day 2013, and in the little south western corner of Dominica where I spend most of my days – between Loubiere and Newtown – there was an atmosphere of holiday.

From the moment I woke, I heard men outside my gate being greeted by villagers with a customary "good morning", followed by an extra special, "happy father’s day", as they ambled along to church in their Sunday finery.

Later in the day, during the normal lunchtime lull in village activity I noticed carloads of families moving up and down the road, presumably off to visit friends and kin, to bathe and relax by a river, or go to the beach as people like to do on any public holiday (if of course they can mobilize the funds).

I was headed to The Harlem Plaza (an outdoor concert venue) in Newtown, where there was to be a father’s day event organized by Norris Prevost (a United Workers Party parliamentary rep) and The Roseau Improvement Committee, in partnership with CariMAN Dominica. The event featured lunch, dominoes, musical performances (by local singers, Bouyon artists and calypsonians), along with the ceremonial giving of hampers to three ‘exemplary fathers’ who had been nominated by CariMAN members. The event also featured a photography exhibition called ‘Look A Fada’ put on by me and Dr Ramona Biholar (a UWI researcher on gender policy in Dominica), in association with ChildFund Caribbean and CariMAN Dominica (see bottom of post for details).


The event was well attended, with fathers coming from the Newtown community and across the country. Yet, whilst many reflected that father’s day is not observed with the same enthusiasm as mother’s day – the Harlem plaza had held a similar event for mother’s a month or so earlier, which I’m told drew greater numbers – the event was still a success given that this is was the first time such as function had been held in a long time (Mr Prevost told me he had attempted to host a similar such event 15years earlier but attendance was poor).

Whilst motherhood has a long history of public recognition in Dominica - understood to represent a  sacred and self sacrificial commitment to children, fatherhood by contrast is understood to be something optative (a choice) and more of an emergent idea. Although fathers have always existed in Dominica, fatherhood - as a mode of everyday male being that orients men towards their children - has only recently developed conceptually in Dominica as something men can publicly claim, celebrate and draw recognition for. Thus father's day 2013 offered a day for men to make the most of their new-found public personae - giving gifts to committed fathers, speeches on responsible fathering, and of course lime - enjoy the conviviality of drinking, eating, chatting koshoneey ('chatting shit') and playing dominoes amongst friends. 

Yet, interestingly only a minority of fathers present at the event came with their children. Father's day offered more of an opportunity for the men present to spend time with their 'padnas' ( friends) and 'free up' amongst other fadas, to relax and enjoy their day. Many of the men will have spent the morning with their children - if not co-resident with them then paying them a visit or receiving a visit from them. Hence, the fathering part of the day was done for most men present and the afternoon event was for them and their peers to free up. 

Leaving the event around 6pm I cycled through Newtown on the way to my Auntie's house. There was a festive ambiance in the air: music playing, men 'pulled up' (stood around chatting) in the street, laughing, joking, drinking. As I was passing by Mr Havre's shop, where fellas usually sit outside drinking and chatting, a padna (partner, acquaintance) from football called me over. As we stood and exchanged chit-chat fellas around us pulling up on scooters or passing in buses were shouting 'happy fadas day' to one another. "How many chil'ren you have?" one padna called to another, "two wii!" he replied proudly. 

At first I found it curious that fatherhood, was being celebrated without a child in sight. I then remembered a comment my cousin had made earlier that day: 'Father's Day? That's new, Dominicans will find any excuse for a lime' (an impromptu celebration). I came to the realization that it was not so much 'fathering' in any practical sense that was being celebrated, but rather the status of simply being a father, the idea of the father. Ironically, the turn towards fatherhood, specifically the idea of 'responsible fatherhood' - by organisations like CariMAN, Dominica Planned Parenthood, The Roseau Improvement Committee and others - that are trying to promote fathers day in an attempt to bring men 'in', from the road and life amongst peers, to home and family life - was being subverted by men who were simply celebrating their day - rum and all! 


Friday 28 June 2013

Is Kinship Back? a response from the Antilles


I recently came across this video in an article entitled 'Is Kinship Back?', focusing on the re-invigoration of Kinship Studies in the behavioral and social sciences.



The video discusses research the speaker has conducted on the linguistic figuration of kinship categories. 

The research asks why some 'cultures' and languages 'carve up' kinship categories differently to others. 

They find that two explanatory principles govern the categorization of kin: 

(1) the simplicity of categories 
and (2) their ability to convey information effectively.

He opens with the example of Grandparents for 'English language speakers'. He suggests English language speakers have two classificatory categories for grandparents: 'grandmother' and 'grandfather' - making no differentiation between maternal and paternal grandparents in this classificatory frame for example. Yet this linguistic schema's balancing of simplicity and practical efficacy of communication in explaining how the person related to a given person, leads the researchers to define it as 'optimal'.  

 However, when brought to bear on the flexible, dynamic and sometimes ambiguous kinship terms emerging from the pragmatic Antillean kinship arrangements I encounter in Dominica, this reductive notion of 'English language speakers'' kinship terms falls on its face.

Pragmatism and the idiosyncrasies and specificities of relationships, overrule functional imperatives to simplistically convey information. For the kin members I've been working with, I believe that the emphasis is not on communicating and knowing who is related and how they are related within a big societal structure of symbols - although this information can sometimes be inferred from hearing classificatory terms. The emphasis is more on the meaning of these names in everyday relational terms, between subject and her/his kinsperson. 

For example. I know a man whose 2 grandchildren stay with him and his wife, their grandmother. His grandchildren call him papa. His wife runs an informal daycare in the home, therefore there are around 5 other children in the home who also call him papa. He has no cognatic ('blood') relationship to these other children, and they most probably have one or two more papas in addition to him. But they classify him as papa given their everyday practical relationship to them, of course he takes them around the village walking hand in hand and visiting people to say 'hello' as any papa might. Therefore, the blurring/opening of normative categories and terms that are seen to have a fixed meaning, renders any simple model presenting a universal functionalist system of ease of reference and communication analytically problematic in an Antillean kinship context.

[I wrote this a little too quickly late at night so I hope you catch my drift - please comment and question if not or you disagree or you want to draw comparative references to other people, examples, places or indeed Dominica too]

Wednesday 19 June 2013

Straight Talk on DBS - a fascinating post-Fathers Day conversation

I have to commend Delia Cuffy Weeks and Randy Rodney on an excellent post-Fathers day radio show,  'Straight Talk', on Dominica Broadcasting Station (DBS) this evening.

They introduced the show with a country and western song 'Daddy's Girl'. Country and western music is loved by a wide spectrum of Dominica's over 50s (and some younger) - and indeed the respectable christian values and themes espoused in its lyrics chime with the values of many of its Dominican fans. Daddy's girl speaks of the special love of a father for his daughter - a prominent theme in my work and which crops up later in the their discussion during the show.


Red Sovine - Daddy's Girl

Next Delia Cuffy-Weeks reads out an interesting recent aricle from the Trinidad Express entitled 'Feminist Fathering: a road less travelled' about a young Trinidadian father, musician and scholar who has reflected deeply on feminist critiques of normative gendered ascip-/prescriptions and reflexively integrated them into his fathering practice.   

The discussants then go on to discuss a host of fascinating themes such as paternal discipline and fearing fathers (who they call 'papa djab' kweyol for 'devil daddy' the father only known for beating); 
they speak of of paternal becoming, learning to become a father (esp. amongst men who didn't know their own father) ;
 they speak of mothers 'who father' and fathers 'who mother' (the former a perennial anthropological debate - see Edith Clarke 1957 and Lazarus Black 1991- and the latter a newer public conversation); 
they discuss reproduction, romantic love and its perils (given the brittleness of heterosexual conjugal, intimate, romantic unions); 
Rodney also offers some scriptural critical analysis of gender roles, and biblical reflections on fatherly influence and guidance;
And many more fascinating themes....

Here is a recording of the show - 

All rights reserved DBS Radio Domincia.






Thursday 30 May 2013

Raised by A Rose from the Flower Capital of Dominica: A CariMAN Mother’s Day Conversation with Lester Guye

I recently wrote this special Mothers Day piece for an online news platform, Dominica News Online



By Adom Philogene Heron

The special bond that exists between mother and son in the Caribbean (and across the Afro-Americas for that matter) is a widely recognised and deeply meaningful one often characterised by interdependence and an intense mutual fondness.

In this short interview during the lead up to Mothers Day 2013 (12th May) and The 2013 Giraudel Flower show (19th May), Adom Philogene Heron (researcher on family life in Dominica and Cariman member) caught up with Lester Guye (psychologist/counsellor at The National HIV and AIDS Response Unit and Cariman member) to discuss Lester’s memories of his mother - from his time raising up in Eggleston, through his educational years, and up to the present.

This special CariMAN conversation is a tribute not only to Lester’s mother, but to all of the mothers and motherly substitutes across Dominica and her Diaspora. On behalf of all of your sons CariMAN extends an extra special ‘Thank you’.


A Beautiful Flower

APH:  What is your mother’s name?
LG:  Roselyn
APH:  And when you think of that name what is the first thing that springs to your mind?
LG:  A rose obviously! [a smile suddenly lights up his face]
APH: A rose? So a beautiful flower?
LG: Oh, definitely!

Raising up

APH: Give us a little background, some context on where you raised up and the family you raised up in.

LG: I grew up in Eggleston/ Giraudel, the flower village of Dominica. I grew up with my mum, always a single parent. It has always been she, myself and my [younger] sister. It’s only later in life that I developed a relationship with my father, but it has always been mum. She worked at one of the supermarkets [in Roseau]; she has been there from since my sister was born.

A Perennial Educational Support

APH: One thing I remember you mentioning in a previous discussion is how supportive your mum was of your education. You mentioned how proud she was when you got into secondary school.

LG: Oh extremely supportive! Oh man! Secondary school, yes I remember that. I remember my mother buying stuff for us, buying your school stuff. And you could see more pride in her face than you yourself was probably feeling, you understand. Just the fact that she can safely say that “my kids, my son is going to secondary school” was something very important to her.  And I think it carried through, not only through secondary school, but when I went out to university [in Mexico]... You were assured that every time she called you would get a boost of energy, or encouragement. And she would let you know that “Eh listen, I will go through the grinds for you to know that you will complete successfully”.

APH: So she offered emotional support throughout your studies?

LG: Exactly, you know emotional support was there, financial support was there. I remember at a point when she herself wasn’t even well. And she would encourage me not to worry about her because you got to do  what you got to do. “You have to do what you have to do”. Because she have support back home, because she’s back home. But you on the other hand are flying solo to an extent, so you have to keep your focus. Those kind of things meant a lot to me, they really meant a lot to me.

The Only Woman I Can Truly Rely On

APH: You mentioned in another conversation that you learned from a young age that your mother was the only woman you could truly rely on. At what point did you come to come to realise that?

LG:  It would be my late teenage years... in our society at a certain age you’re supposed to somewhat be on your own, doing your own stuff. You have your little hitches, your little hiccups, but I could never remember a time when I could not call on her, when she wasn’t able to help – she would go the extra mile... In the given situations you knew that an extra effort had to be in place... based on the circumstances that were presented to us, financially and socially at the time. And it has stuck with me you know, and in any given situation, no matter where I am and what I’m doing I Know that I can call on her at any time.

From Provided to Provider

APH: I know that in his relationship to a mother, as a boy becomes a man, there is often a tipping point when he is no longer completely dependent on his mother and he begins to provide for and care for her as she grows old. Do you think of this as you look to the future, or even now? 

LG: That’s a good question because it is something that has been established in my mind that whenever everything is said and done, she is retired and everything, for me the fact that she has to live with me–, it’s almost inevitable, it’s something that will just be. I will take pride in it.

I will even joke with her now. My mum is very particular about what she eat. So I will joke with her and say, “when you come to live with me, what you get is what you will take!” [we laugh]. Just being troublesome, like naughty. Telling her, “eh listen, you know the tables have turned”. Out of love you know.... I have never said, “When you’re with my sister” or “if you have your own home”. No. It’s like “when you live with me, I am the one who will be cooking for you at some point”. So it’s Almost like I look forward to it.

Food is Love

APH: So food has a very special place in your relationship with your mother?

LG: I am not one of those people that are not very particular about what I eat. [But] I don’t eat meat and stuff... I can remember specifically when my mum would cook on a Sunday and she is making food for everybody and she would make the same thing, my own, but without meat. And that was never a problem. It was never like “oh, why can’t I just cook one pot” or “find something to do for yourself”. It was always like, “Lester, I did this for you and before I put the meat in I took out yours”...

Even recently, there is something I really like when I cook, I like tomatoes. My mum don’t really like it... Just the other day before I went overseas, she cook one day she says, “Lester, I put tomatoes in this because I know you like it”. And For me it was like wow. It seems like something so minute and simple, but in my head, for me it really meant something large for me.

...Even when I was younger I would go out and not eat. Even when you’d offer me something, I would not eat because I know my mother is preparing something and I have to eat my mum’s food. And it’s not out of disrespect for you, but it’s out of respect for her. 

... And anytime I am with someone and she asks me have I eaten, it means a lot, it carries a lot of weight for me – because my mother does it... It’s something that meant a lot to her, that we’re never hungry. So for me, somebody looking out for my well-being in terms of alimentary stuff, for me meant a lot.
-----------------------------------------
For mother’s day CariMAN in partnership with the Dominica National Council of Women will be giving a hamper to an individual Dominican mother who has been nominated by her community for her outstanding, exemplary and sacrificial motherly love.

To learn more of CariMAN’s work in Dominica and the Region: http://cariman.org/cariman-countries/dominica/ 

For more on Adom’s PhD research please visit: http://www.st-andrews.ac.uk/anthropology/dept/phdstudents/?studentid=181

For some background on The National HIV and AIDS Response Programme where Lester Works as a counsellor please visit: http://dominicanewsonline.com/news/homepage/news/health/dominica-assesses-its-national-hivaids-response-programme/





Fathermen