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Sustenance, nourishment, and cultivation: plants as living cultural heritage for dispersed Chagossians in Mauritius, Seychelles, and the UK

2016; Wiley; Volume: 22; Issue: 2 Linguagem: Inglês

10.1111/1467-9655.12402

1467-9655

Laura Jeffery, Rebecca Rotter,

Anthropological Studies and Insights

Applying a critical heritage studies approach to plants, this article explores how plant knowledge and use, plant exchange, and plant symbolism and materiality feature in the social life of the dispersed Chagossian community in Mauritius, Seychelles, and the UK. First, plant use helps to sustain collective knowledge in new environmental conditions and social settings. Second, plant exchange nourishes kinship and other social relationships within the extended community. Third, plant symbolism and materiality cultivate nostalgic links to idealized homelands in the context of community dispersal. Nevertheless, the capacity of plants to contribute to these social processes is limited by challenges to intergenerational knowledge transmission across time and space, and by environmental, financial, and regulatory constraints on plant migration. The article argues that for the displaced Chagossian community, plants are living cultural heritage with social potential (albeit constrained) in the context of dislocation and loss, ongoing suffering, and geographical dispersal. Résumé Le présent article applique aux végétaux l'approche des études critiques sur le patrimoine pour explorer la façon dont la connaissance et l'utilisation des plantes, leur échange, leur symbolisme et leur matérialité s'inscrivent dans la vie sociale de la diaspora chagossienne à Maurice, aux Seychelles et au Royaume-Uni. Premièrement, l'utilisation des plantes sert à maintenir le savoir collectif dans de nouvelles conditions d'environnement et de nouveaux cadres sociaux. Deuxièmement, l'échange de plantes nourrit les liens de parenté et autres relations sociales avec la communauté élargie. Troisièmement, le symbolisme et la matérialité des plantes cultivent des liens nostalgiques avec un pays natal idéalisé dans un contexte de dispersion diasporique. Il n'en reste pas moins que la contribution des plantes à ces processus sociaux est limitée par les obstacles à la transmission intergénérationnelle du savoir dans le temps et l'espace et par les restrictions écologiques, financières et réglementaires opposées à la migration des végétaux. L'article fait valoir que pour la communauté chagossienne déplacée, les plantes sont un patrimoine culturel vivant ayant un potentiel social (si restreint soit-il) dans un contexte de dislocation et de perte, de souffrance encore vive et de dispersion géographique. Ethnobotanical studies of relationships between people and plants record plant knowledge and use in communities around the world, often focusing on the medicinal and nutritive properties and uses of plants (see Bennett & Prance 2000; Haselmair, Pirker, Kuhn & Vogl 2014; Ladio 2001; Pirker, Haselmair, Kuhn, Schunko & Vogl 2012; Reyes-Garcia et al. 2013; Smith-Hall, Larsen & Pouliot 2012). Such studies catalogue the plant species used by a particular group of people, detail the uses to which they are put, identify categories of users, note changes in pharmacopoeias and their causes, or report processes of botanical knowledge transmission. In other words, they conceive of plants principally as material resources with particular physical and phytochemical properties which are utilized by people for practical purposes. The anthropological record attests to a variety of additional material, sensory, and symbolic relationships between people and plants, and anthropologists have criticized those ethnobotanical accounts which decontextualize local knowledge (Ellen 2006: S10; Hsu 2010: 1). Additionally, the ethnobotanical literature has often evinced what Clifford (2008) termed the 'salvage paradigm': endeavours to record and preserve knowledge and practices (and plant species) perceived to be threatened by destructive historical (or biological or cultural or technological) forces (Ellen 2006: S2). This is most clearly reflected in Nazarea's proposal for 'memory banking': 'the collection and documentation of indigenous knowledge and technologies, including uses, preferences and evaluation criteria associated with traditional varieties of crops' (1996: 1). The argument goes that just as the genetic information coded in plant germplasm can be stored in seed banks, cultural information possessed by elderly cultivators is an important form of heritage that should be preserved for posterity, and as part of efforts to maintain biodiversity. Even ethnobotanists who acknowledge the symbolic importance of plants tend to view botanical resources and knowledge through the salvage paradigm. The heritage movement, rooted in a modern concern to document and preserve sites, monuments, cultural objects, and memories (Harrison 2013), traditionally also shared this salvage paradigm, as reflected in the principles of international organizations such as UNESCO (2012). As Rowlands and De Jong (2007: 17) argue, heritage spaces such as the heritage site, the museum, and the archive are perceived as symbols of modernity, providing a sense of permanence to counter loss, rupture, and displacement. In other words, heritage practices often attempt to fix objects, practices, meanings and identities in place, and to safeguard against erosion from the passage of time. However, heritage scholars are increasingly engaged with critiques of the salvage paradigm, and their focus has shifted from tangible objects to the intangible processes enabling (or precluding) their production (Bortolotti 2007). Critical heritage studies sees heritage as a resource which subaltern people can use to define themselves, display their group membership, and assert geographical belonging (Smith 2006). It contends that heritage is a process of selecting and privileging certain memories and memorial artefacts for preservation, and repressing and rejecting others (Rowlands & De Jong 2007: 16), which allows people to rework the meanings of the past according to the demands of the present (Smith 2006: 4, 49). As Smith (2006: 3) points out, tangible elements such as places and objects are heritage not because they have inherent value, but because of the intangible social processes and activities that take place at, around and through them, of which they become a part. In this article, we examine the meanings ascribed to plants, botanical knowledge, and plant use through a critical heritage lens. Our goal is neither to fix nor to preserve botanical knowledge, but rather to examine what plants can do for people who have experienced forced displacement from their homeland, a loss of tangible heritage, and disrupted social ties. We do this by exploring the social life of plants among members of the dispersed Chagossian community living in Mauritius, Seychelles, and the UK. First, we look at the plant knowledge that migrants carry with them and how they sustain collective knowledge and adapt plant use in response to new environmental conditions. Second, we consider how plant exchange can nourish social relationships with family and others in the dispersed community. Third, we examine how plant symbolism and materiality can cultivate nostalgic links to an idealized homeland in the context of community dispersal.1 We also touch upon two limitations on the capacity for plants to fulfil these roles: firstly the challenges of transmitting knowledge to the younger generations who have been born outwith the homeland, and secondly environmental and regulatory constraints on plant migration. Our argument is that for the displaced community in question, plants are living cultural heritage – in the sense that heritage is a process – with social potential in the context of displacement and loss, ongoing suffering, and geographical dispersal. The Chagos islands in the middle of the Indian Ocean were unpopulated by humans prior to European colonial expansion in the region from the late eighteenth century onwards, when French planters brought enslaved labourers mostly from mainland East Africa and Madagascar via Mauritius. The Chagos Archipelago was administered as a dependency of colonial Mauritius. The Colony of Mauritius and its dependencies – including Chagos and Seychelles – were transferred to British control during the Napoleonic Wars; Seychelles became a separate crown colony in 1903. Throughout the settled history of the Chagos islands, coconut plantations were the economic base and main source of employment. Also known as the Oil Islands, they relied almost entirely on the production of copra (dried coconut flesh) exported for the extraction of coconut oil that was refined for energy and used in the production of soap (among other products) in Mauritius and beyond. Chagos islanders working in the plantations received rations of coconut products and imported staples such as rice, lentils, maize, and salt; they also consumed local fish, crustaceans, green sea turtles, seabirds, wildfowl, poultry, pigs, and fruit and vegetables grown in their own kitchen gardens (Jeffery 2013: 306-7; Le Chartier 1991: 96-9). Islanders grew a wide range of edible plants, including cabbage; many varieties of greens; sweet potato; plantain; breadfruit; manioc; yam; bilimbi; maize; tomato and aubergine; pumpkin and courgette; bitter gourd, snake gourd, and bottle gourd; pepper and chilli; lemon and lime; Seville orange and grapefruit; Malay rose apple, custard apple, and monkey's apple; mango; melon and watermelon; pineapple; papaya; guava; soursop; and seven varieties of banana. The sandy soil lacked sufficient topsoil for carrots and potatoes (but cf. Bourne 1886: 387; Moresby & Elwon 1841: 259). In his monograph Limuria, Robert Scott, then the British Governor of Mauritius, noted that the islands had an uncertain future owing to the rise of vegetable oils, which were more accessible and cheaper than coconut oil (1961: 291-3), although it turned out that this was not the only threat. In 1965, the UK government excised Chagos from Mauritius to form part of the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT) before granting independence to Mauritius in 1968 and to Seychelles in 1976. In 1966 the UK government made the Chagos Archipelago available for the defence purposes of the UK and US, and since 1971 the largest Chagos island of Diego Garcia has been the site of a major US overseas military base. Successive Mauritian governments have claimed sovereignty of the Chagos Archipelago since 1980, but the UK's response is that Chagos will be returned to Mauritian sovereignty only when it is no longer required for defence purposes. Between 1965 and 1973 the UK government depopulated the archipelago; over this period as a whole, between 1,328 and 1,522 islanders ended up in Mauritius, and 232 in Seychelles (Gifford & Dunne 2014: 46). Since their displacement, Chagossian groups have campaigned for adequate compensation and the right of return to Chagos. The UK government awarded limited compensation to Chagos islanders (born on the Chagos Archipelago) living in Mauritius (but not Seychelles) in 1972 and in 1982, when the compensation package included money and the option to receive land (contributed by the Mauritian government) and/or small houses on purpose-built housing estates. Islanders born on Chagos and most of their second-generation descendants were awarded UK citizenship under the British Overseas Territories Act in 2002, but spouses and subsequent generations of descendants are not automatically eligible for UK citizenship. Over two thousand people from the extended Chagossian community are estimated to have moved to the UK, where they live in the largest concentrations in Crawley (West Sussex), Manchester, and Greater London, although by far the largest concentration, totalling around seven hundred surviving Chagos islanders and several thousand of their descendants, still live in Mauritius. A series of court cases brought on behalf of the Chagossian community failed to establish their right of return to Chagos. In 2014, the UK government commissioned a resettlement feasibility study while simultaneously defending the no-fishing Marine Protected Area (MPA) established around the Chagos Archipelago in 2010, which is being contested both by Chagossians and by the Mauritian government. In 2015, an Arbitral Tribunal at the United Nations Permanent Court of Arbitration found unanimously that the declaration of the MPA was incompatible with the UK government's obligations to Mauritius under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea. Meanwhile, the Supreme Court in London is expected to deliver its verdict on an application for judicial review of the MPA in early 2016. This article draws principally on research conducted since 2011 as part of a project on debates about environmental knowledge concerning the Chagos Archipelago, although it also draws on relevant material from ethnographic fieldwork conducted since 2002 with the extended Chagossian community, which comprises displaced Chagos islanders and their descendants born outwith Chagos. During ethnographic fieldwork in Mauritius and the UK, we visited Chagossians' kitchen gardens, went food shopping with them, prepared and ate food together, and received treatment for minor ailments by community healers deploying traditional remedies. As part of a specific focus on plants, we asked about the use of edible and medicinal plants in Chagos, Mauritius, Seychelles, and the UK, including recollections of environmental changes and changing practices. In some interviews we also deployed two illustrated guides to edible and medicinal plants of the Indian Ocean (Gurib-Fakim 2007; 2009) as an elicitation device. The photographs therein frequently helped our respondents to identify more species, but as a corollary the material generated during these conversations was perhaps less detailed because respondents were keen to turn pages quickly to see what was next, whereas during conversations without visual aids they dwelt on fewer species in more depth. Respondents' enthusiasm for discussing plants was striking: Chagos islanders' faces lit up when we explained that we were interested to learn about the plants they used on Chagos, and some interviews lasted several hours. Conversations about plants enabled people to explore memories of the physical character of the islands and everyday aspects of life, and to assert their authority by conveying specialized and extensive knowledge. Each of our Chagossian interviewees identified several dozen plants that they either used themselves or knew that other people had used as a raw material in a wide range of domestic and economic activities: as medicine, food, fuel, and animal feed; to make tools and handicrafts; and to build houses and boats. Anthropologists have devoted considerable attention over the past two decades to the ethical, ideological, methodological, and terminological challenges in attempting to distinguish indigenous knowledge (IK) or traditional ecological or environmental knowledge (TEK) from 'scientific' or 'biomedical' knowledge (see, e.g., Dove 2006: 195-6; Ellen, Parkes & Bicker 2000; Lauer & Aswani 2009; Nazarea 2006: 321-3; Sillitoe, Bicker & Pottier 2002). Our intention is neither to recap nor to revisit these debates, but rather to consider how plants feature in migrants' attempts to sustain, transmit, and adapt their collective knowledge in the context of geographical dispersal from the homeland. As several contributors to an edited volume on the topic (Pieroni & Vandebroek 2007) have reported, migrants often continue to use traditional healthcare strategies to treat minor ailments, but tend to use a smaller number of plants and herbs in their new societies than they used in their home societies, and are sometimes constrained in their use of certain species owing to the space limitations of urban living, unfavourable growing conditions, legislation against importation, or the unavailability, high cost, or poor quality of specimens sold in the new society (Ceuterick, Vandebroek, Torry & Pieroni 2007: 157, 160-2; Ososki, Balick & Daly 2007: 29-30, 35; Palaniswamy 2007: 99; Viladrich 2007: 68-9; see also Pieroni, Zaman, Ayub & Torry 2010: 123). Plant species that are unavailable may be substituted with other, more 'global species', such as garlic, camomile, mint, eucalyptus, aloe vera, and citrus fruits (Ceuterick et al. 2007: 160). Several studies found a high correspondence between the self-medication of minor ailments like flus, colds, and respiratory complaints, but also that common health conditions in the home societies had been replaced in the new societies with other conditions such as diabetes and high cholesterol, which necessitated different treatments (Palaniswamy 2007: 90-1; Vandebroek et al. 2007: 59-60; see also Pieroni et al. 2010: 126-7). An increasing preference for biomedical healthcare amongst younger generations was associated with a desire for fast-acting treatment rather than waiting for traditional remedies to take effect (Ceuterick et al. 2007: 161; see also Pieroni et al. 2010: 124-5). More recent work similarly highlights selective abandonment and innovation in use of species and practices, according to the environment, social conditions, and healthcare system in the new country, migrants' local and transnational social networks, and the ease of plant importation (Pieroni et al. 2010; Pirker et al. 2012). We also sought to capture some of the changes in the use of plants across place and time, although we were unable to observe such changes directly given the passage of time since the depopulation of Chagos. Instead, we asked Chagos islanders and their children and grandchildren in Mauritius and the UK to reflect upon their use of plants before and after migration from Chagos and from Mauritius or Seychelles, and the ways in which knowledge about plants is transmitted. They indicated continuities and innovations in their use of plants, but also increasing constraints upon access to certain plants and the transmission of botanical knowledge. Chagos islanders identified over one hundred plant species which they used on Chagos, fifty-five of which had medicinal uses. Certain medicinal species were very widely used: aloe vera (Aloe barbadensis in Latin, known as sandout or marzanbon in Kreol), water hemp (Ayapana triplinervis, or ayapana), farmer's friends (Bidens pilosa, or lavilbag), native dodder (Cassytha filiformis, or lalyan sanfan), Madagascar rosy periwinkle (Catharantus roseus, or saponer/roz amer), coconuts (Cocos nucifera, or koko), lemons and limes (Citrus limon and Citrus aurantifolia, or sitron and limon), lemongrass (Cymbopogon citatus, or sitronel), beach morning glory or goat's foot (Ipomoea pes-caprae, or batatran), air plant (Kalanchoe pinnata, or soudefaf), bird's nest fern (Asplenium nidus, or lalangvas), mint (Mentha x piperita, or lamant), dwarf sensitive (Mimosa pudica, or sansitiv), bitter gourd (Momordica charantia, or margoz), Indian mulberry (Morinda citrifolia, or bwa torti/noni), castor oil plant (Ricinus communis, or palma kristi), Madagascar spur plant (Plectranthus madagascariensis, or baum de perou), and ginger (Zingiber officinalis, or zinzam). Chagos islanders described in detail their knowledge of the application of such plants to aid the restoration of health, and there was a high level of consistency both between the accounts of individuals, and between these and the ethnobotanical record (e.g. Gurib-Fakim, Sewraj, Gueho & Dulloo 1993; Louwe 1987; Sussman 1980; Tatayah 2011). They used plants to treat a variety of conditions, including respiratory illnesses such as asthma, coughs, and colds; headaches, earaches, and associated fevers; skin infections and other dermatological problems such as spots, boils, itches, ringworm, cuts, and bruises; digestive disorders such as indigestion, reflux, gas, bloating, nausea, stomach ache, diarrhoea, vomiting, intestinal worms, dysentery, and lack of appetite; inflammation of the stomach or bladder, jaundice, stones, hernia, and haemorrhoids; high blood pressure, stroke, thick blood, and anaemia; and assorted other complaints including cancer, diabetes, period pain, recovery after operations, malaise, toxic fish poisoning, stings, and swollen or aching lower limbs. In general, botanical treatments took the form of eating the plant directly, preparing and drinking a tisane of infused plant parts, preparing and bathing the body in a plant decoction or mashed and boiled plant materials, or applying plant matter to the skin by washing, rubbing, or as a poultice. Sometimes Chagossians volunteered information about how their knowledge of a plant and its medical indications and contraindications had changed over the passage of time and movement across geographical space. For instance, an elderly Chagossian man (who was an adult when he was removed from Chagos in 1973) recounted that Chagos islanders used to heat the leaves of Indian mulberry and apply them to aches and pains, and adults told children not to eat the seeds because they were thought to be poisonous; later, in Mauritius, he learned that the seeds were effective against diabetes and high blood pressure (see also Gurib-Fakim 2007: 113). Some treatments were culturally specific cures for conditions such as fever (esofman) and chills (freser), or to prevent harm caused by spirits or witchcraft (see also Louwe 1987: 102-6; Tatayah 2011), some of which were specifically used for children. For instance, in Mauritius, tiny pimples on the skin of young breastfed babies are diagnosed as tanbav (impetigo) and are attributed to the mother's excessive consumption of 'hot' food (Louwe 1987: 102). In Crawley, a new-born baby deemed to have tanbav was fed cooling oranges instead of being treated with the cream prescribed by the doctor. And when another new-born baby in Crawley suffered from colic, his mother sent for arrowroot from Mauritius. When speaking of the original migration from Chagos to Mauritius or Seychelles, Chagos islanders said that it was almost impossible to bring living plants or germplasm owing to the conditions under which the displacement took place: some islanders went on what they expected to be short trips to Mauritius and Seychelles only to be prevented from returning to Chagos; others were forced onto crowded ships bound for Mauritius or Seychelles with little chance to gather what few possessions they had. Nevertheless, according to Chagos islanders' accounts, this restriction on plant transportation did not significantly affect the continuity of botanical knowledge and plant use as many of the same species grew in Mauritius and Seychelles. In her report on the healthcare needs of the displaced Chagossian community in Mauritius, Dræbel (1997: 20-5) listed the main problems affecting displaced Chagossians over the previous two decades: chronic illnesses such as diabetes, high blood pressure, cardio-vascular diseases, and obesity (all of which have high and rising prevalence in Mauritius owing to high consumption of fatty foods, high cigarette and alcohol use, and low levels of physical exercise); transmissible diseases such as tuberculosis, diarrhoea, and hepatitis A (which are associated with poverty and contaminated water supplies); workplace accidents; physical and mental disabilities; psychiatric disorders (such as epilepsy); and chronic depression (sagrin) resulting from the uprooting. Dræbel (1997: 30-3) noted that Chagossians – like others in Mauritius and Seychelles (see Gurib-Fakim et al. 1993: 184; Matatiken et al. 2011: 69; Sussman 1980: 262) – continued to combine healthcare strategies, consulting a combination of doctors and traditional healers, and deploying a combination of biomedical, traditional, and homemade plant-based remedies. Some of our participants advocated the medicinal use of plants with reference to the ethnobotanical argument (see, e.g., Gurib-Fakim 2007; Gurib-Fakim et al. 1993) that 'all pills originally came from plants', and that plants contain many active ingredients still being explored scientifically. A striking example of the reluctance to abandon botanical treatments in favour of pharmaceuticals (see Whyte, van der Geest & Hardon 2002: 74-5) was provided by Annette,2 a woman in her forties of Chagossian parentage who was born and raised in Mauritius but now lives in Manchester. Annette described how in Mauritius she had once suffered from a bad case of haemorrhoids and had opted to self-administer the common treatment of beach morning glory (batatran), which, she said, is supposed to 'coax the haemorrhoids back up inside the body'. She chuckled as she explained how she underwent the slightly laborious and awkward process of boiling the leaves in water and pouring this solution into a basin in which she then had to sit, soaking and washing the haemorrhoids at length. The treatment did not work as, she said, the haemorrhoids were now too big to retreat. Finally, she resorted to a trip to her doctor, to whom she explained the problem and the pain she was experiencing. Annette's reporting of her doctor's rather sage response produced fits of laughter during our interview: 'Why', he asked, 'didn't you just take paracetamol?' While plant use continued after displacement to Mauritius and Seychelles, a different picture emerged of people's access to herbal medicine after onward migration to the UK. Upon arriving, people found that many of the key species that were used in the Indian Ocean were not present because they could not survive in the British climate, or were not available on the market even if able to survive indoors. Some people pointed out that they would like to import particular plants that grow well on Indian Ocean islands – such as water hemp (ayapana), Madagascar rosy periwinkle (saponer), bird's nest fern (lalangvas), firestick plant (bwa malgas), and various fruits – but are restricted by customs regulations and the practicalities of air travel. In many cases, where desired plant matter was found on sale in the UK, its market value was so high as to prevent regular use or consumption. When we asked Chagossians in the UK what they now use to treat common ailments in the place of plants, the answer was often paracetamol. Nevertheless, certain 'global species' such as citrus fruits, lemongrass, aloe vera, bitter gourd, and ginger were widely used. I saw arrowroot in the shop. I didn't know my parents were using it. I only knew the flower in Mauritius. I use the powder when I am weak and tired. Boil the water, add a spoonful of the powder until it becomes a clear gravy. You can drink it. There's no taste unless you want to add sugar. She also learned from her parents during the interview that on Chagos, Aztec marigold (pisanli) was boiled with carrot to treat jaundice and anaemia. She remarked that she had seen it in shops in the UK and would buy it and try using it. In sum, whilst structurally constrained by climate, customs regulations, and finances, Chagossian migrants are continuing to take advantage of the medicinal properties of plants about which they possess knowledge and to which they have access, as well as experimenting with new medicinal plants they encounter (cf. Bennett & Prance 2000; Pirker et al. 2012). But in the context of such changes and the inevitable decline in numbers of older Chagos islanders, several of our interviewees expressed a concern about the future of medicinal plant knowledge. This was evident in a conversation with Edmond, a Chagos islander in his fifties who was displaced to Seychelles, and Lucille, who was born in Mauritius in the 1970s to Chagossian parents. Edmond and Lucille were concerned that knowledge about plants is not being passed on to the younger generations in the UK, both because young people are not interested and because the lack of appropriate plants reduces the opportunity to practise traditional medicine, and they lamented the loss of cherished Chagossian collective knowledge. Lucille said that in Mauritius people sometimes use lemon, water hemp, and camomile, but young people do not know about traditional medicine and do not bother to learn from their elders, preferring just to go to the doctor and take pills because this is quick and easy. Edmond noted that instead of using a blend of real orange and lemon juice to treat colds, young people buy an artificial lemon-flavoured drink (Lemsip). Thus people shared not only how they strive to sustain and transmit medicinal plant knowledge, but also their concerns about how displacement and migration can result in the transformation or loss of certain cultural heritage practices, including those involving plants. This section examines how plant exchange connects people to other people. Recent anthropological work on allotment gardening and the exchange of houseplants in the UK has explored the role of networks of relationships in the dispersal and cultural selection of plant germplasm (Ellen & Platten 2011), shown how plant exchange can mark existing relationships or forge new relationships (Degnen 2009: 162), and suggested that the flow of germplasm can match an individual's network of social interactions (Ellen & Komáromi 2013: 4). Two recent studies (Ellen & Komáromi 2013; Ellen & Platten 2011) explore patterns of exchange of plants and plant materials in allotments and domestic settings, respectively. Both studies confirm that the physical qualities of plants and propagates – such as their life expectancy, size, durability, and ease of handling – make them more or less conducive to migration and exchange. However, equally importantly, they find that plant dissemination is inextricably linked to social networks and patterns of social interaction. For example, potted plants tend to be exchanged more often than garden plants firstly because they are more likely to be tended by women, who generally maintain more extensive social networks and use plants as gifts, and secondly because they are present in domestic spaces, where a greater degree of social interac