A Small Place

I really enjoyed Jamaica Kincaid’s A Small Place this week. The perspective she gives of the tourists from that of a native is both condemning and refreshing. As a tourist it’s very hard to see anyone or anything outside of your experience. You have the luxury of not having to acknowledge the history of the land and the quality of life for those who inhabit it once your vacation is over. If you are privy to information about the corrupt government, racist/sexist ideologies perpetuated by the government, and the effects of poverty on most of the population, you still have the luxury to ignore it. I believe the message that Kincaid was trying to convey is that everyone does not have that luxury, and even when our vacation is over, the harsh realities for natives still remain.

Kincaid’s description of a tourist really resonated with me. She states “An ugly thing, that is what you are when you become a tourist, an ugly empty thing, a stupid thing, a piece of rubbish pausing here and there to gaze at this and taste that, and it will never occur to you that the people who inhabit the pause cannot stand you…”(17). My initial reaction to this description was to be defensive. In all of the places that I visited, I was never rude to those who cooked and cleaned for me. If anything, they should be happy that I’m bringing revenue to their economy, so why shouldn’t they like me? Upon reading A Small Place, I never considered that those inhabiting the land that I am visiting and exoticizing don’t experience it in the same way I do. They don’t have the luxury to do so and it seems as if no one cares. Surely I can understand how this could cultivate feelings of resentment. As I continued to interrogate the feelings of remorse and conviction I had while reading this book, I reflected on my trip to Cuba two summers ago. I will never forget being in downtown Havana and going into one of the cigar shops. There was a very high strung woman in there that greeted us and proceeded to show us how to distinguish quality cigars from those that are not. Afterwards she shared with us that she makes a small percentage for every cigar she sells, and that she needed money to buy her child some food. The cigars she sold us were also of poor quality, but I realized that she needed to capitalize on the encounter for her survival. I knew after leaving the cigar shop that I would eventually eat, have a nice hotel to stay in, and have clean clothes to wear. She on the other hand did not. 

Kincaid also addresses the effects of colonialism in these “exotic” places tourists often visit. The “authentic” tourist experience is marketed using “native” culture, but how much of that is really a ploy? Do the cultural norms of a place really reflect the culture of its people? Those were questions I asked myself after reading this selection. It’s hard to grapple with the idea that in some ways as a tourist I could be indirectly engaging in the exploitation of the very people I think I am helping with my business.