If you’re reading these words, you fall into one of two categories: you are either from Anguilla or you’re not. There also hangs in the midst of these two poles the diaspora who (once the years stretch a bit) can become some sort of amalgamation of the two – local enough to remember running in dusty red fields to pick pigeon peas with their grandmother or pressing the pulpy flesh of gineps against the back of their teeth, but gone long enough to see the dull patina of an island still years behind the glittering tech of the bustling outer world.
There are other such grey zones, though, when one reflects on the iterations of 32 square miles of sun, sea and sand. While Anguilla is often seen as a utopia for tourists to escape their reality, it is also an island with a rich social fabric.
The unique disparity came about when the small, often overlooked northernmost Leeward was catapulted into becoming a land of tourism opportunity during the 1960s. With that twist in the history of Anguilla bloomed the first mutterings of the controversial antecedent to the island’s development: how will this benefit tourism?
At times there can be seen a swaying pendulum between ‘reality’ and ‘tourism product’. Over the decades, Anguilla’s development has been precariously hinged on the importance of that balance. As the years have ticked by, Anguilla has seen many changes which have rendered it somewhat unrecognisable to returning diaspora and visitors who may have stumbled across the island in a bygone 80s travel agent’s flimsy brochure.
While we are so eager to see our island run double time to catch up with the ease of the digital age, we also mourn the Anguilla of yesteryear. There are times when we see the glaring contrast of the analogue state of most happenings on the island met full force with our emergent dependence on technology.
There is an unexpected comfort in these inconveniences, however. They are nuanced reminders of a world which used to exist globally. A world with paper, ledgers, cursive and humanity which has now been propelled towards digital stratospheres and artificial intelligence.
Nevertheless, there still exists a fellowship in Anguilla preserved in that protective utopic bubble that others strive so hard to penetrate. The values, while morphing as society changes, still hold firm despite Anguilla’s motions to fully join the digital movement.
The gleam of experiencing, even if only for a week’s vacation, that realm where people still need one another, where they make eye contact, where they smile at your presence, and life doesn’t occur solely behind (or in front of) a screen can be magnetic for visitors to Anguilla. Stronger still is the pull which calls our diaspora home.
