What’s in a name? On language, history and place names in SVG – pt 3

(continued from last week)
(final part)

by Paula Prescod

History and identity are strongly influenced by collective and individual attitudes to naming, as evidenced by many place names given by the settlers without any proven connection to the newly acquired territory: Brighton, Prospect, Cumberland, Richmond, Dumbarton and Glebe Land were boldly transplanted to SVG as well as to other colonies in the region and in the wider geographic sphere.

For instance, Glebe Land can be found in Barbados and in Australia in addition to parts of the UK. The traveller to Canada, Australia and the USA is sure to find a place named Brighton. There is also a place named Dumbarton in Scotland.

The British were not alone in copying onto the unknown territory place names which reminded them of their native land based on real or legendary similarities. The French also chose to name places according to the services they procured them. For instance, Petit Bordel needs no comment if not a glaring effort to rid the community and its people of the stigma the name has brought to generations of residents. The indigenous population also participated in the naming process and these place names reflect both their linguistic heritage and their functional approach to place naming. One such example is Bayira (spelt Byera today) which means “in opposition to” in the language of the Caribs. On the Treaty map of 1773, Bayira is where the English drew the territorial boundary that the Caribs where forbidden to go beyond.

In a short note published in 1956, Douglas Taylor put forward several examples of indigenous place names on St Vincent. Many of them have fallen out of use and have been replaced by English-sounding ones. Some of these names can be found in Nathaniel Uring’s writings, Valentine Morris’ “Narrative” and Charles Shephard’s Historical account but often with varying spellings. In these documents, Owia is written as Oya, Bequia as Beakway, Barrouallie as Barouli and Barrowli, Biabou as Bayabou and Rabacca as Rabaca.

There is also a startling amount of instability hampering the retention of these names since competing or alternative names are often offered. So, Fort Sackville is an alternative name for Owia; Fort Guilford could replace Rabacca, Fort Hilsborough is in competion with Colonarie, Princes Town or Queen’s Bay appeared alongside Barrouallie, and Fort Dalrymple is used in place of Bayabou. In the 1823 map I referred to earlier on, Suffolk Bay had replaced Troumaca Bay. This example shows that indigenous names sometimes won over European place names, but this is quite rare. Cubiamairou lost to Stubbs, Kingstown got the edge over Washigunny or Ouashegunny and Saint Vincent is symbolically called Iouloumain or Yurumein only by a few people today. And despite the fact that some indigenous names endure, as do Canouan, Wallibou and Battowia, they represent a highly reduced number of occurrences compared to olden days. As such, place names in SVG do not reflect the melting pot that could otherwise be used to qualify its social landscape and its people.

There is a glaring need for study of place names in the Caribbean in general and in SVG in particular. Although there may be naming processes that are common to the region, in each nation there are distinct social and political factors which might take place-naming into directions not yet charted. Another contributing factor has to do with subtle changes in spelling or, more impactfully, with informal or individual naming practices which catch on in the public sphere and possibly with local authorities. A good example of this is how Manning Village found its way into our registers. The 3rd July 2016 edition of the Trinidad and Tobago Guardian relates that the villagers themselves sought to commemorate the deceased T&T Prime Minister, Patrick Manning, for his government’s generous grant aimed at acquiring new lands around Byera to relocate them in the wake of the damage caused to their homes by Hurricane Ivan in 2004. Are we up to incorporating place names like Baghdad, Hollywood and Bombom into our maps anytime soon? Such informal names tell us a lot about the present state of social affairs in our nation and are likely to be passed on to succeeding generations.
Irrespective of the extent to which we feel the nation’s history is represented through place names, we have inherited a past that has built part of our nation’s identity and, by extension, part of our identity as nationals. What’s in a name? Each of us would need to determine, individually, how much of that identity we are willing to embrace. Place names are locators of memory. They offer individuals, individually or collectively links to their past, allow grounding and ensure continuity with our history.

Before being appointed Associate Professor of French Linguistics and Didactics at the Université de Picardie Jules Verne (France) and part-time Lecturer at the Universität Bielefeld (Germany), Paula Prescod taught English and French to speakers of other languages in SVG and in France. She holds a Ph.D. in Linguistics from the Université Paris III, Sorbonne-Nouvelle. Her research and publications focus on linguistics, didactics, language use and the Caribs of SVG from a socio-historical perspective.