Buccoo reef is under siege and if not amended, soon enough Tobago’s economy may be as well. The reef covers a 7km2 area, according to the Australia Caribbean Coral Reef Collaboration, and is home to a multitude of biodiverse species, both flora and fauna, including patch reefs, seagrass beds, parrot fish and sea turtles. Healthy coral reefs provide ecosystem services which are invaluable to the Caribbean’s economy. These services include, but are not limited to: protection of up to 50% of Tobago’s shorelines from erosive wave energy, a safe environment for fish nurseries, provision of some anti-cancer drugs, and a source of food and livelihood. However, many of these are notoriously overlooked, resulting in the mistreatment of reefs in such a way that the long-term economic benefits they offer are diminished.

The ACCRC reported that in 2006, around 40% of visitors engaged in reef-based tourism which, through direct visitor spending and indirect supporting goods, generated a total of $101-130 million for the island, about 15% of Tobago’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP). Tourism is the mainstay of Tobago’s economy, yet this mutualistic relationship can also be parasitic. Legislation must therefore be enforced to protect these reefs and the economic integrity of Tobago.

The Collaboration also states that approximately 85% of Tobago’s reefs are threatened by anthropogenic activities such as sewage runoff, overfishing and coastal development, resulting in high macro-algal cover on some of Tobago’s reefs. These are all by-products of tourism. Yet, tourism is the very thing that should be protecting the integrity of our reefs, since it is so dependent on them.

Unfortunately, one major way in which tourism is damaging reefs is through their main appeal, reef tours. Tobago offers the opportunity to swim with exotic fish species and view some of the largest brain corals in the world. However, these tourist activities lead to harmful practices. For example, reef-walking still takes place even after Buccoo Reef was designated a protected area in 1973. Both tourists and tour guides do not acknowledge that reefs are living creatures, and disregard the fact that standing on corals damages and breaks them. Corals are especially brittle due to recent increases in coral bleaching, and tourists use this to their advantage, continuously breaking off pieces of the animals as souvenirs. The flawed reasoning behind allowing this is that these areas had already been damaged by previous tour groups.

Additionally, tourists pollute the waters. The Express spoke with a young snorkeler who recounted having seen plastic wrappers, eating utensils, and even a pair of cargo pants among the reefs and fish. She said the reefs had lost their vibrancy, and by natural need for survival, the fish had lost theirs as well. Their attempt to camouflage in their now derelict surroundings will have a negative impact on tourism, as the beauty and bright blues, greens and reds of the reefs cease to exist.

Like any other animal, corals are susceptible to infection and disease. Used plastic litter not only blocks sunlight from reaching coral, but also carries millions of harmful bacteria that can tear into and infect entire coral colonies. “The likelihood of disease increases from 4% to 89% when corals are in contact with plastic,” researchers reported in the journal Science. It was also found that corals with more complex branching structures, which provide crucial “nursery” niches for young fish, were eight times more likely to have entangled plastic.

Plastic not only infects reefs, but can cause the death of thousands of marine creatures. Another important tourist attraction of Tobago is that of turtle-nesting season. As stated by the Association of Caribbean States, the critically endangered leatherback, green loggerhead and hawksbill turtles all nest on beaches along Tobago’s coast. However, ingestion of and entanglement in plastic pollution leads to death of these creatures by starvation and suffocation.

According to Lauretta Burke, author of Reefs at Risk in the Caribbean, “the local revenue losses associated with shifts in tourism toward healthy reef areas could be particularly harmful to specific communities and national economies with reefs at high threat of degradation.”

She explains that the negative economic impacts of coral reef degradation on tourism can be seen through examining a source of tourism revenue directly tied to healthy coral reefs; scuba divers. Divers make up about 10% of visitors but contribute about 17% of all tourism revenue. The average diver spends about US$2,100 per Caribbean trip, compared to US$1,200 by other tourists. Scuba divers require high-quality coral reef habitats to dive. Degradation of reefs will reduce their value to divers and other tourists, therefore, if Tobago’s reefs are not maintained, there will be a decrease in tourism revenue.

It is important to note that the National Ocean Service states that corals can recover from certain levels of stress given the time and conditions to do so. However, unless knowledge of the issue is spread, no change will come.

Luckily, we can take direct action in the protection of our reefs:
‍
*Do not walk on coral
*Do not break and collect them
*Properly dispose of trash
*Use reusable bags, straws and bottles when possible.

I came to the U.S. just over a year ago. Why, you ask, did I uproot my life to move to a different country? Well, from the 1600s-1800s, Trinidad was colonized by Britain, who brought shiploads of both African enslaved and Indian indentured labourers to the island. After that nasty business, in 1962, we gained Independence from Britain. That same year, the U.S. embassy was established in our capital. It was believed Trinidad would become a powerful force in the world due to our oil reserves. However, it turns out we had just exchanged one mother country for another.

A colonial mentality was left over from the days of colonization, and it still exists today. Trinidadians believe for the most part that our country is inferior to greater nations such as Britain and America, and that we must strive to be like them someday; rich, developed, environmentally-mindful, technologically progressive. This idea is perpetuated through generations and made its way to me. My family encourages its children to “get out” of Trinidad as soon as we can. Education is our opportunity to do so. I could have gone anywhere in the world, but I chose America, because thanks to my upbringing, in my mind, America was the epitome of life.

I’d grown up bombarded by U.S. content such as Disney Channel, the Food Network, HGTV and all the related merchandise, ideas and opinions that came with them. I dreamed of a house with granite countertops, hardwood floors, and of course a modern open-concept floor plan, ignoring the fact that Trinidadian houses are concrete and tiled for the most part, and are laid out nothing at all like I’d seen on HGTV. I’ve lived the lives of countless teenagers in “high school” (secondary school for me) and definitely tried some Food Network recipes (slightly altered for the ingredients that were accessible in Trinidad).

I thought I’d captured the essence of American life and culture through its media and found that I related to the on-screen personalities in countless ways. I figured transitioning into being a student in America would be a breeze. I’d be able to benefit from the developed status of the country (and finally own the Disney merchandise that wasn’t available at home). I’d seamlessly fit in with real-life Americans as I would have with the onscreen ones, especially since they seemed to understand me better than I did myself anyway.

Boy was I wrong.

Culture shock comes in 4 stages: honeymoon, frustration, adjustment and acceptance. My honeymoon phase lasted 1.5 semesters. I loved everything, I was excited by seeing all the things I’d previously only seen on TV in real life (acorns!! snowflakes!! bowling!!) I felt like I truly fit in with my friends for the first time in my life. Then I started to really get to know people. I picked up on their values, habits and morals more deeply. I started recognising the immense cultural differences between myself and them that weren’t apparent from television. The America I’d formulated in my mind was not always congruent with the America I was experiencing. I’ve been stuck between the frustration and adjustment stages of culture shock since the realisation hit that many things I try to communicate will be lost in this culture. Americans just don’t share my opinion and my discursive structure on many more issues than I’d previously realised. One such issue is food.

(Let it be known though that the American friends I’ve made on this college campus are all upper-middle-class whites who live in either New York, Kansas or New Jersey, so I am aware that my experiences of American culture through them are not representative of the entire country. The same goes for the distant relatives I have here.)

‍Dining Halls & Food Wastage

‍My first run-in with food-related culture shock was in the dining halls. I was entranced by the diversity of dishes and the sheer number of meals offered.  I thought “not one of these would get chopped for presentation.” Then I saw the conveyer belt. Students were placing dishes on its shelves then merrily going about their business. There was still food on those plates. A lot of food on most of them, and it was all going to be…discarded?

I chose a table with my new friend, and within minutes she’d filled our table with one of almost each dish. I was shocked, asking her if she was really going to eat all of that. She responded with “of course not” as she sampled a spoonful of each dish. She followed each spoonful with criticisms such as “weird texture,” “not enough salt,” and “I just don’t like tomatoes.” She eventually settled on one dish to continue eating from, all the while complaining about some aspect of it. When she was done (tomatoes leftover), she scraped the rest of the untouched food into the largest bowl and placed it on the conveyor belt. I was aghast.

As time went on, I realised this wasn’t a one-time-thing. I’ve been picking one meal and finishing it. My friends would all often sample the different meals and just set most of it on the conveyor belt because one little thing about it was not to their liking.

The conveyor belt operates physically in our dining halls, carrying our waste away. Modernity has distanced us from each other (laborers), and from our food. This emotional separation from the process of acquiring food devalues the significance of its existence and further serves to promote the invisibility of laborers. The food waste is cleaned up behind-the-scenes, in a place most of us students will never step foot, by some faceless workers we may never meet. We don’t have to deal with our own mess ourselves, heck, thanks to the conveyor belt, we don’t even have to think about it.

The conveyor belt also operates metaphorically, as an industrial mechanism in our dining halls. We eat, we waste, we leave, we eat, we waste, we leave. The conveyor belt helps resolve neoliberalism’s contradictions by aiding the spatial fix of us. We continue to consume so we can continue to be academically productive, and by just moving the unconsumed food away, we can always be ready to consume more.

This kind of behaviour would never be allowed in Trinidad. Wasting that much food was unthinkable unless you wanted a hard slap or some yelling and guilt tripping. I grew up with value placed on food, much like in Umuofia. People worked hard to get that food on the table. My parents worked hard to earn money to buy healthy ingredients and my mom spent hours in the kitchen preparing meals for my sister and I. This concept was true no matter where our food came from. Invisibility of labourers was less prominent. We are aware that someone, whether we know them or not, worked hard to get that food to us and we had to appreciate whatever we were given to eat.

There was an element of disrespect noted when food was not appreciated and consumed at home, again like in Umuofia’s culture. The hands that provided that food to you deserved respect. Either you eat what you take, or you don’t take it at all. All food is valuable. Apparently this is not the ideal held by all Americans. Their values seem to be placed more on comparisons of meals. This baffles me. How could it be possible for overworked Douglass staff to create the exact chicken noodle soup your mom used to make? Or that you had at Bruegger’s that one time? Does this mental standard make it excusable in their minds to fill an entire bowl with Douglass’ soup, conscious that they are just going to have a couple of spoonfuls, declare it inedible, then throw it away?

There is a certain level of entitlement displayed by each of my friends when it comes to food. I suppose this reveals the amount of value they have for food. The aspects they value in food such as texture come from a place of plenty. They are able to be picky. They are accustomed to being provided with an alternative when the initial meal is not to their exact standards. I didn’t understand their need for standardization of meals until I grasped the concept of modernity. Uniformity seems to have become central to their pleasure. From my perspective, this is comfort. This is privilege. They are privileged enough in their industrial mindsets to devalue food as sustenance, view it as a service and treat it as a fuel. The development and modernity which enables this behaviour is coveted by small island developing nations, such as my own.

‍Wegmans & Choice

‍The first time I entered a grocery store in America, Wegmans, my eyes couldn’t drink it in fast enough. There were aisles and aisles of cheeses, vegetables, canned fruits, beans, meats, snacks, milk and bread. So much bread. There were ready-made and packaged meals, baked desserts, sushi, an entire deli and a buffet-style food station. There were even inedible goods-what were all these inedible goods doing in a grocery? The succulents, flower bouquets, magazines and clothing all helped paint the picture of total abundance and excess capitalism that sent the wonder concurrent with my honeymoon stage into overdrive.

Where Americans have 20 choices, Trinidadians have about 3-5. The bread really, really stuck out to me. At home, we have white, wheat, and occasionally whole grain, raisin or coconut. Wegmans has white, enriched white, 100% whole wheat, soft whole wheat, cinnamon, cinnamon-swirl, raisin-cinnamon, raisin-swirl, walnut-raisin, gluten-free, gluten-free raisin-cinnamon, low-sodium, organic, whole-grain, sprouted-grain, ancient grain, 7-grain, multi-grain, organic multi-grain, soft-crusted multi-grain, 5-grain 4-seed multi-grain, seeded, super-seeded, 5-seed, sixseed, sunflower seed, rye, pumpernickel, pumpernickel-rye, seeded rye, seedless rye, marble rye, caraway rye, sourdough, white sourdough, whole wheat sourdough, sourdough miche, 7-grain sourdough, multi-grain sourdough, oatnut, oatmeal, farmstyle, ciabatta, cheese, jalapeño cheese, pepperoni cheese, scratch cheese, Italian, Tuscan,  red white & blue, rosemary olive oil, cranberry-orange, honey, honey cracked wheat, apple, pumpkin spice & other combinations of these that I haven’t listed.

“Are these all necessary?” I wondered. “Can people even tell the differences between some of these?”

As it turns out, Americans I asked tended to have a very strong affinity for one type of bread and a near hatred for any other. It also seems that for the most part, they can’t really distinguish between all of these types of bread, nor do they care to. While yes, bread is a central staple to many cultures, and some types, such as gluten-free, cater to dietary restrictions, who is really benefiting by the manufacture of this many different varieties?

Neoliberalism has allowed the creation of markets for commodities where no need or desire for said commodity previously existed. In my opinion, the red-white-and-blue bread is a prime example of such. Yet, due to the discursive structure of neoliberalism asserting the idea that choice represents a right, having this bread available as an option is viewed as having the potential to exercise your right; your ‘freedom,’ as a good neoliberal subject to purchase this commodity.

The neoliberal society created by the desires of modernity has conditioned American consumers to feel empowered by all the choices it now allots them. It tells them they are “free to choose,” which directly plays into the values of Liberty & Freedom which are engrained into American culture. In reality, however, the amount of choice they have, the amount of ostensibly transparent information they are bombarded with to help consumers distinguish between “multi-grain” and “organic multi-grain” just keeps them distracted and powerless; trapped in a false freedom.

So am I more or less free to choose? I do have less options, but do I think more options would be necessarily better for my wellbeing and quality of life? I’ll examine one facet of modernity, stimulation, to attempt my explanation. The breads in Wegmans were each packaged in the brightest hues of every color of the rainbow, each grappling for my attention and my dollar. In contrast, the plain, undecorated transparent bags my bread comes in are nothing special. In fact, their lack of specialness is exactly what allows me to focus on the bread itself. I am not misled by any ostensibly transparent information, prominent labels or moving “food biography” stories.

There is a belief that transparent information is supposed to allow consumers to make informed choices. However, consumers in America are being overloaded with brightly colored advertisements, information labels that lack context and long lists of unpronounceable ingredients all stuck to packaging, each vying for their product’s purchase. “Ostensibly transparent information gives false impressions and becomes just another form of marketing, used strategically to transform the relationship between the consumer and the product.” (Reichman, 169).

The intensity of sensory stimulation and the uncritical faith in the power of information in America leads to sensory overload.  Coping then comes in the form of desensitization to all these ploys, which forces companies to find new ways of marketing their products, which leads to the perpetuation of a viscous cycle. So I’d say my ability to more easily decide on a loaf of bread without the worry that I’ve made the wrong choice is preferable to wishing I’d gotten sixseed instead of 7-seed bread, which, to me is an unnecessary worry to have in the first place; either way, it’s bread.

One similarity between the two systems, however, is the prevalence of Responsibilization. In both cases, the onus is on the consumer to choose the best bread for themselves based on…what? The type of consumer created by neoliberalism is forced to be hyper-vigilant in terms of the choices they make for their health.

Yet how are they defining health? Most consumers are not human health experts, so what are we truly basing our choices on?

In the U.S., freedom of choice is exercised by opting for the loaf labelled “natural,” for example, but what does that even mean for that particular brand? At home, the bread is baked by the workers in the little bakery right across from their racks. Those bags don’t have ingredient lists. I’d assume there are less preservatives and other industrial inputs in my bread since transport over long distances is unnecessary, but I still don’t quite know. This neoliberal form of governance already solidified in America, and developing in Trinidad is encouraging a culture of self-audit & personal verification, rather than governmental oversight. It is forcing people to fend for themselves, then shaming them if they didn’t know better.

In fact, this lack of knowledge leads me to my most recent run-in with food-related culture shock where Americans’ disconnect with their food was highlighted for me.

‍Words & Discourse

‍Let’s set the scene: Thanksgiving day. My first Thanksgiving. My distant relatives pull up to a cute suburban white picket fence house. It’s actually classified as a historical sight and has an American flag planted in the front yard waving proudly in the November wind (and yes, the interior’s got hardwood floors and a granite countertop). The table’s set, everyone’s starving, and the turkey’s just come out of the oven. As we eat, the most disturbing conversation I’ve ever witnessed takes place.

“I love cows so much!!” proclaims Kristina from across the table with her mouth full.

“Yeah they’re so cute! They roll around on their backs and want to cuddle and play all the time. They’re just like puppies” responds Lilly, also chewing.

Kristina spoons another helping of beef stuffing onto her plate.

‍Let’s take another example. My relatives took me to Skaneateles on Black Friday (another shocking cultural norm of America that I won’t get into) to see their little Christmas Village parade. A friendly local gave us some suggestions for fun in the little town and ended with, “have you really been to Skaneateles if you didn’t have a fish sandwich from Doug’s”?

A large, brightly-lit aquarium is the first thing you see as you enter Doug’s Fish Fry. There were more fish in there than I could count. One was the largest mamatata I’d ever seen. These were clearly all tropical, “ornamental” fish with their bright colours and shimmering scales. Some of them were even recognisable species from Finding Nemo. A sign assuring us that the aquarium was well maintained and the fish were happy (anthropomorphic much?) was plastered on both sides of the aquarium.

The overwhelming scent of fried fish is the first thing you smell on entering Doug’s Fish Fry. The scent permeated through the entirety of the shop and made me almost sick to my stomach. I watched as the myriad kids in this restaurant fell in love with the aquarium fish; marvelling at their shimmering scales, transfixed by their pretty colours, only to happily chomp into their dead relatives’ carcasses 5 minutes later.

How twisted is that? You marvel at the pretty fishies while standing in line to consume the dead bodies of other fish. How did that not freak anyone else out? What caused the obvious disconnect that allows people to love and appreciate the beauty of these creatures one second, and enjoy ripping into their denatured flesh the next? Is it just the fact that the physical appearance of the fish has been altered?

Fish are demoted from living beings in two senses at Doug’s Fish Fry. They are a commodity (food) and they are a novel method of self-advertisement.  Ironically, the aquarium adds to the atmosphere of the restaurant, encouraging the consumption of fish carcasses at this establishment, rather than repelling consumers.

This discourse is so harmful and baffling. We’ve been so hard-wired to separate the food “fish” from the living pretty animal “fish.” They’re literally the same word, yet with totally different, disconnected meanings. At least (due to that fun matter of species bias) there is some discursive effort to make the consumption of cows and pigs more palatable with the euphemisms “beef” and “pork.” So much labour is performed on these words to misdirect, camouflage and exclude certain connections in consumers’ minds, yet “fish” and “fish” do not raise any alarms. No one seems to be capable or willing to make the connection that the food on their plates is swimming around, looking directly at them only a few feet away.

This discursive structure is not as strong at home. The same notion of “have you really been to Maracas beach if you didn’t eat a bake & shark?” holds. Locals and tourists alike enjoy a freshly fried shark sandwich every time you head to the beach. It’s practically a required tradition. However, no one is disillusioned into thinking this is just food. We are all very aware that an animal was caught a few feet away, killed, skinned, chopped up and dumped in a fryer to be served to us to dress and consume however we would like.

Everyone laying on the beach can see the fishing boats a bit into the distance. We can all see fishermen walking along the coastline with their day’s catches. Sharks brought in have spent their whole lives swimming free in the ocean. We are acutely aware of the issue of the declining shark (animal) population around this area, and as such consumption of bake & shark is a conscious practice, only done at the beach. We’re mindful that an animal has given its life for us to continue our beach tradition , and tourist attraction. We value the meat and the experience the shark has allotted us, since this is a fairly infrequent meal. There is no separation of “shark” the food and “shark” the living animal.

Does being out in the fish’s environment vs. being served in a man-made restaurant influence our perception of the fish on our plate? Is it the amount of the fish-to-food process that we’re exposed to that alters it? At Maracas, we see the caught fish brought onto the shore. We then eat the same fish that we saw chopped and fried. At Doug’s, this isn’t true. The fish you consume there has been ‘magically’ produced from behind a counter, already battered, fried and between bread. It’s different from the fish you’ve already seen. The pretty ones are okay, alive and ‘happy’. The fact that nothing has changed for them creates the illusion that nothing bad has happened to any fish overall and you can enjoy your sandwich, as you continue to stare at the aquarium.

If the bake & shark tradition can thrive in Trinidad with the knowledge that you are consuming a once-living animal, why is the discursive structure of disconnect so strongly upheld in America?

Why is food so ambiguously loaded in the U.S.? Why do consumers depend so heavily on companies to regulate their discourse? Is it the convenience? The lack of moral responsibility discourse allots? How convenient is it that consumers don’t have to think about the bloody slaughter of cows while they eat beef? They can talk about how cute cows are in the abstract while munching into their bodies. They can stare at the pretty fish while chewing their bodies. They can battle over store-bought turkey for Friendsgiving and never once consider that that turkey was an animal who lived a miserable, painful life (is this anthropomorphism too??). Those same Friends/Thanksgiving leftovers then became taboo and untouchable after the first meal. No one wanted the leftovers and so much food was just thrown out, after such a big deal was made about it.

Again, I couldn’t fathom the idea of that much apathy towards food wastage across America. This is such a stark contrast to Trinidad where you eat the same damn meal every day til there was no more left. This wasn’t even an option in America. The privilege. The indifference.

‍Conclusion

‍So, I’ve been in the U.S. for just over a year and I’m still moving through the stages of culture shock. To some extent, I’ve been using food as a vehicle to reconcile the differences I’ve encountered between my core values & beliefs and those of America. With the cultural immersion I’ve experienced, I now feel like a veil has been lifted from my own eyes.

I’ve always been aware of my colonial mentality, but I’d always thought it was justified. Now, experiencing this country and its culture first-hand has made me re-evaluate some of my own prejudices.

I’ve experienced the paralyzing effect overchoice can have on a person.  I’ve seen the effects of a mature capitalist society and its accompanying discursive structure. Yes, they’ve got like 40 types of bread. There’s bound to be one even for the pickiest of eaters. Yet, this encouragement of pickiness is only aiding neoliberalism. Companies will be able to keep creating demands for some obscure type of bread and generating markets to push their products onto consumers who’ve been conditioned to buy, buy, buy.

This type of behaviour is much less tolerated in my country, and I’m now so glad for it. Apparently, as a Trinidadian with less development in my country, I’m the one who’s had more reign over my choices all along.  Yes, I’ve got less to choose from, but I’ve got what I need, not what I’m convinced by an outside force that I need.

Unfortunately, Trinidad is gradually moving further and further away from our gemeinschaft social order towards the gesellschaft order that’s already in place in America. We’ve been increasing our imported American goods and even bringing in chains like McDonald’s and Starbucks. We’re consuming more and more things we don’t necessarily need. We’re feeding into these companies and serving to develop a more neoliberal society, and that’s pretty frightening to me.

I personally don’t want to live in a society where freedom of choice equals freely and unconsciously eating my way into an early grave (unless I’ve got the money, class and skin tone to eat alternatively). Or one where people are dying of curable lifestyle diseases like obesity, and new dialysis centres are popping up in the poorest of neighbourhoods all the time. I’ve learned that the appearance of quality is not always the existence of true quality. No one here seems much happier than I am. Comfortable in their consumeristic bliss, yes, but not necessarily happier.

So now I’m wondering… does America seriously deserve to be hailed as the great nation it is acclaimed to be? The people here are kept in ignorance, incapable for the most part of connecting with and growing their own food. Some are unknowledgeable of how to prepare their own meals. The American people seem like a nation of genetically modified monocultured corn crops; dependent on the farmer’s pesticides & fertilisers, and a stable environment to thrive. Take those away and can they stand on their own? Fend for themselves? They’ll have to re-learn and reconnect with nature and food and themselves. They’ll have to adjust to living outside of a life of plenty. They’ll experience a type of cultural shock themselves.

Is this developed neoliberal, first-world lifestyle that Trinidad is striving for truly superior? Is keeping people in a position of powerlessness and ignorant bliss while a select few only get richer truly the end goal? Is this illusion of power, dominance and freedom in America fragile? Unsustainable? Dangerous?

‍Works Referenced:

‍Achebe, Chinua. Things Fall Apart. William Heinemann Ltd., 1958.

Finely, Ron. “A guerrilla gardener in South Central LA.” TED. Feb. 2013. Lecture.

Foer, Jonathon S. Eating Animals. Back Bay Books, 2010.

Guthman, Julie. “Neoliberalism and the Constitution of Contemporary Bodies.” 2009.

Mills, Sara. Discourse. Routledge, 1997.

Reichman, D. Information and Democracy in the Global Coffee Trade. Bloomsbury Academic, 2014.

Singer, Ben. Melodrama and Modernity. New York, Columbia University Press, 2001, pp. 17-35.