Grenada: The People Beneath the Surface

By Brian D'Ambrosio

Grenada smells of things worth stealing from a kitchen. Nutmeg, mace, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, cocoa. The air carries salt and damp vegetation, with the occasional sharp, earthy fragrance of spices drying in the heat. Turmeric belongs to the island's culinary vocabulary, too. Here, the spice trade is not some antique chapter in a history book. It remains part of the landscape and the livelihood.

I am visiting Grenada now. The country became independent from Britain on February 7, 1974. I was born that same year. We are contemporaries, although Grenada has spent its life surrounded by Caribbean water, while I have spent mine trying to make sense of the territory on dry land.

Off the southwestern coast, in Molinere Bay, another Grenada waits below the waterline. The Underwater Sculpture Park is an unlikely gallery, populated by concrete figures standing on the ocean floor. They hold hands, sit at desks and gather around tables. Some look as though they have been interrupted in the middle of an ordinary afternoon. Nobody appears to have informed them that their neighborhood has gone underwater.

British-Guyanese sculptor Jason deCaires Taylor created the park in 2006. Born in 1974 to an English father and Guyanese mother, Taylor studied sculpture at the London Institute of Arts. He became one of the pioneers of underwater sculpture, developing a practice that brought figurative art into marine environments.

Grenada provided the setting for his first large-scale underwater installation. The circumstances were not merely aesthetic. Hurricane Ivan had devastated parts of the island in September 2004, damaging coastal ecosystems and reefs. Taylor proposed an artificial reef that would also attract divers and snorkelers away from vulnerable natural reef formations.

He used pH-neutral cement and stainless steel. The concrete surfaces were textured to encourage coral polyps to attach. The sculptures were designed to provide shelter and habitat for marine organisms. The park eventually helped support the designation of the surrounding Molinere Beauséjour area as a Marine Protected Area.

Today, the collection contains approximately 75 works across 800 square metres, at depths of five to eight metres. It can be visited by divers, snorkelers and passengers aboard glass-bottom boats.

The best-known work is Vicissitudes, a circle of 26 children holding hands, their faces turned outward. Taylor cast the figures from children of different backgrounds. He conceived the work as an image of unity and the influence of one's surroundings. Grenadians have also interpreted the linked figures as a reference to slavery and the Middle Passage, the connected bodies suggesting shackles. The interpretation is difficult to dismiss in Caribbean waters.

Another work, The Lost Correspondent, depicts a man seated at a desk with a typewriter. Newspaper clippings from the 1970s cover the desktop, some relating to Grenada's political history before the revolution. The journalist is permanently on deadline, though his office has become a marine habitat. Fish now occupy the space where a reporter once might have worked.

In 2023, Taylor expanded the installation with 27 additional works. Twenty-five belong to The Coral Carnival, a series inspired by Grenada's annual Spicemas celebrations. The masqueraders include Jab Jab, Shortknee, Vieux Corps, Wild Indian and Fancy Mas figures. Taylor collaborated with local Grenadian artists on the project. For the first time, his underwater sculptures incorporated color, using natural pigments and calcium carbonate. Turmeric is among the organic pigments used in the traditional masquerade imagery.

Above the water, Grenada has a history that is considerably less tranquil.

Independence came under Prime Minister Eric Gairy, who had led the country through its final years of British colonial rule. On March 13, 1979, while Gairy was abroad, the New Jewel Movement overthrew his government. Maurice Bishop became prime minister and established a revolutionary administration with close ties to Cuba.

The political experiment deteriorated from within. In October 1983, Bishop's deputy, Bernard Coard, and his supporters moved against him. Bishop was placed under house arrest. On October 19, supporters freed him, and a crowd accompanied him to Fort Rupert, now known as Fort George. Military forces captured him there. Bishop and several members of his government were executed.

President Ronald Reagan ordered American forces into Grenada on October 25. Operation Urgent Fury involved American troops and contingents from six Caribbean countries. The administration cited the safety of American medical students, the collapse of civil order and concerns about Cuban influence. The intervention overthrew the Revolutionary Military Council. It also violated Grenada's sovereignty. On November 2, the United Nations General Assembly adopted Resolution 38/7, deploring the armed intervention as a flagrant violation of international law. The invasion remains one of the most consequential and contested episodes in modern Caribbean history.

Grenada marks October 25 every year as Thanksgiving Day, a national public holiday commemorating the American-led intervention. The anniversary is observed with official ceremonies and religious services. The name is revealing. For many Grenadians, the intervention represented liberation from the military council that had seized power after Bishop's execution. Others have viewed the invasion through the darker lens of foreign intervention and violated sovereignty. The disagreement has never entirely disappeared. In 2023, the government added October 19 as National Heroes Day, giving formal recognition to Bishop and those killed at Fort Rupert six days before American troops landed. Grenada now has two October dates that recall the same turbulent week from very different historical perspectives.

One unusual feature of Grenada today is that it has no standing army. The People's Revolutionary Army was dismantled after the 1983 intervention. Public security is handled by the Royal Grenada Police Force, which includes a Coast Guard and specialized units. Grenada also participates in the Regional Security System, a cooperative security arrangement among Eastern Caribbean states. No regular military establishment exists.

There are other details that catch my attention while walking around. Schoolchildren wear uniforms, including those attending secondary school. The shirts, skirts and trousers give the streets a recognizable order. Children move along in their school colors, carrying books and heading home. It is a familiar sight, though one that stands out to a visitor.

Grenada's agricultural identity is harder to miss. Nutmeg is the island's signature spice, and its red covering, mace, is another valuable product. Cocoa has a long agricultural history here. Cloves, cinnamon and ginger are also produced. Bananas and citrus have figured in the island's agricultural economy. Turmeric, meanwhile, appears in local food and cultural traditions. The Spice Isle nickname has a legitimate claim on the place.

Perhaps that is what makes Taylor's underwater park so compelling. It is not a gallery protected from its surroundings. Coral grows across the figures. Sponges and other organisms take hold. Fish pass through the arms and legs. The sea changes the surfaces, gradually altering the work.

Indeed, the sculptures are never quite finished. Neither is Grenada's story. The country is still young as an independent nation, and the executions and invasion of 1983 remain part of its political memory. Yet the island has built a life without a standing army and continues to cultivate an agricultural heritage that reaches well beyond its shores.

I came to see the sculptures. I found myself thinking about the island above them, too. The children remain linked beneath the water. The journalist sits at his desk. The sea has no interest in preserving the original appearance of either.

Grenada has had enough history to know that permanence is a questionable proposition.