Write-ups & Recollections

About a month and a half ago I was invited to write down my experiences on Montserrat for the Guildhall School's student and alumni magazine, in order to give prospective applicants a brief introduction to life here. Now that it's been published, I'm reproducing it on the blog here.

Black sand beaches, goat racing and a volcano in the backyard, occasionally shrouded in mystic cloud cover. It’s no wonder Sir George Martin was enthralled by this place when he first visited in the seventies, enough so that he would then go on to set up AIR Studios Montserrat in 1979. And before the studio’s tragic demise during Hurricane Hugo in 1989, Montserrat was graced by a stellar line-up of artistes such as Sting, Elton John, Paul McCartney and Phil Collins, all of whom enjoyed recording in this paradise isle whilst enjoying a relative level of anonymity which could not be found in the big cities.

Then awoke the Soufrière Hills volcano in 1995 – this previously-dormant volcano suddenly erupted for the first time in the nineteenth century and changed the landscape of this small island permanently. With Soufrière Hills still active today, it’s hard to not mention the words ‘Montserrat’ and ‘volcano’ in the same conversation. 

Today, the Montserrat that I live and work in is vastly different from when the former capital Plymouth was still standing. Now, with more than half of the island in the exclusion zone, the population has declined from 10,500 to 4,800. While the islanders are ever so friendly with a resilient smile, they too feel the after-effects of this massive brain drain that happened along with the mass evacuations. Industries such as engineering, medicine, environmentalism and education have suffered, with little or no specialists in their respective field on the island. 

Still, Montserrat exudes a numinous sort of charm, which was first evident when I was flying in from Antigua on a seven-seater Britten-Norman Islander. Montserrat loomed in the distance, in a fashion that would not be out of place in a certain television series featuring a mysterious tropical island. The reason that took me across the Atlantic was because I responded to a call – Sir George and Lady Judy Martin were looking to send a music specialist to Montserrat to, in simplest terms, inspire young people to take on music. And I went. 

With a job description as vague as that, I was wielding a double-edged sword – I could plan and execute countless possibilities of music education programmes, but at the same time not knowing what support I would receive and what response I would get. Thankfully, being given tabula rasa in this sense allowed me to bite the bullet and start where I was most needed – in the secondary school. 

Montserrat has only one secondary school, with no formal scheme of music education in place before I arrived. And within 48 hours of boots touching the ground, I was tasked with planning and delivering the national music curriculum in the secondary school, running after-school music activities as well as wider-ops styled workshops for students and CPD sessions for professional musicians. 

Demand for instrumental teaching continues to grow, and lots of opportunities have opened up for expansion of music education on the island. I continue to set-up and support different music ensembles on the island that deal with young people, as well as raise awareness and highlight the necessity of music education within the school system. 

Montserrat certainly has a definitive legacy in recording industry, and while most of it has been lost with the eruption of the volcano, the community is working hard to restore it to its former glory. Projects such as the one I’m working on serve to build on that, giving the young people living here not only an avenue to explore their own musicality, but to take what they discover with them far and wide into the future. 

Currently, this project is sponsored and supported mainly by The Montserrat Foundation (UK), of which Sir George and Lady Judy Martin and both foundation trustees. It is also assisted by the Government of Montserrat, and the Rotary Club of Montserrat. I have been fortunate to be able to raise more funds to procure more music resources for the island, all of which are much-needed. Piano books, hand percussion instruments, and small things like rosin and valve oil - which, while you would ordinarily get any other music store back home, cannot be found here and must be specially ordered in. 

A lot of expats who have lived here for awhile will say Montserrat is amazing to visit, but sometimes a challenge to live in. Whilst avoiding the pitfall of calculative weighing of the pros and cons of such a situation, I must add that having a purpose whilst living here does make it more enjoyable, and in this case it has certainly proven to be a worthwhile effort. In one month you could be playing your first ever public steel pan gig, dance behind a truck loaded with massive speakers moving at half a mile an hour (this is called a jump up!), join in onstage with a Caribbean string band, or bet on your favourite caprid at the next goat race.

Goats & Sweatbands

So what do you get when you get nearly a dozen goats, dress them up, line them up and cheer wildly as they bolt down a 30-metre long course? Welcome to Montserrat's answer to the Grand National, where goats of all shapes and sizes battle it out on the racetrack for fame, glory, and if they're lucky, escape from the goat water pot.

Last weekend's goat race was part of the Island People Fete, a carnival which was held at Tropical Mansions. The Montserrat Running Club entered a goat, which we later named Ishwar. Ishwar, according to club president Tom Regan, has had a "good pre-season [...] and has only been pregnant twice over the spring, and has only been run over once". Perfect.

Seb, Aoife and I got down with good time to spare to dress up our goat - in running attire, of course.

Only the best kit for Ishwar.

Just before the pre-race pep talk.

Pink, blue & yellow - perfect colour combo.

And Ishwar certainly didn't fare too badly - a few false starts aside, he blazed through the heats and even managed to grab himself a coveted spot in the top three. Unfortunately, his desire for oats (offered at the finish line as an incentive to run) was probably not was strong as his opponents' desire to not end up in goat water, and he never made it beyond third place.

And of course, like every respectable race, bets were accepted for each goat before every race. However, I did manage to abstain from putting any money on a goat, given my sore lack of experience at attending such races. In hindsight, I probably should have attended the Oxford & Cambridge Goat Race this year. For the uninformed, this race is held every year as an anti-elitist alternative to the annual traditional river Thames boat race between Oxford and Cambridge. At least no class war protests marred the goat action!

Seb's last day in Montserrat.

Super goats in action.

In the end, Ishwar pulled a full Monty stunt - by the time of his last race, every single piece of clothing and accessory adorning him had come off, save for one sweatband around his rear right hoof. Guess he was getting himself ready for the goat water pot after all.

Ash & Pyroclastics

Yesterday I decided that my free time (so far) would be best spent driving around the island and orientating myself to the island. Montserrat itself isn't big; at 10 miles long and 6.8 miles wide, and more than half of it in the exclusion zone, it is significantly smaller than Singapore. However, it is extremely hilly - most of the populated areas are not along the coast, as there seems to be much less accessible shoreline that I first expected. Therefore a journey from Olveston (where I am, the southern part of the habitable area) to Brades (the de facto capital up north) takes at least twenty minutes.

With it being a tropical island with very little seasonal temperature variation, it is very much like being back in Singapore, except with the climate generally being a couple deg C lower and certainly less humidity levels. A lot of Montserrat does resemble Singapore sixty years ago - very rustic, rural and colonial in some ways.

One of the stops I made during my little island road trip was Jack Boy Hill, a secluded lookout spot in the northeast where I had a partial but picturesque view of the exclusion zone as well as the former airport which was abandoned during the last major eruption. It was quite surreal to see vast portions of land completely covered with hardened pyroclastic flow, rendering the entire landscape a dull grey - very much like a modern-day Pompeii.

A house completely destroyed by pyroclastic flow.

Coastline of the exclusion zone.

I also visited some of the (undestroyed) beaches along the west coast, with a popular one being Little Bay. This area is being redeveloped as the new capital town, with it being one of the more popular areas on weekends where bars and nightclubs open for business. The island's diving shops and facilities are also located here, so I hope to be spending some time there in the future when I decide to take up diving again!

Other practical considerations which I managed to suss out were the exact locations of the only two petrol stations on the island (they must be making a fortune!) as well as where some of the island's schools are located. At present I'm staying very near the only secondary school on the island, where I will be mostly based at. It seems I'll be starting work on Monday - can't wait. There are only so many free afternoons where I can sit on my porch all afternoon drinking beer and enjoying the sun.

View of the beach from Little Bay

You can tell from just exploring the island that Montserrat has come a long way since more than half the population were made refugees from volcanic activity in 1995. Everyone here seems to share a spirit of solidarity, spurred further on by a thoroughly friendly and amicable attitude. When I got out of my car at the supermarket and locked it, a local came up to me and said, "This is Montserrat, no need to lock your car!" Okay, maybe that will take some time getting used to.

Antigua & Mini-planes

So, here we go. Day 1 on this tropical paradise isle that is Montserrat. Well, I say paradise - that's from what I've seen so far when the Britten-Norman Islander I was in flew above Montserrat as it approached landing. The day started early yesterday with a delayed & packed flight to Antigua from London Gatwick, brought on by terrible gales lashing the runway. By then I was quite grateful to be leaving such foul weather to sunnier lands.

After a very quick & hectic layover in Antigua, I found myself onboard a six-seater Islander aircraft - the only type of aircraft that FlyMontserrat operates - heading towards the Emerald Isle, pop. 4,822, along with three other fellow passengers. Whilst en-route I got to know another passenger who was also starting a new job in Montserrat - the new customs head, who himself also travelled from London. There was indeed a moment of hilarity which ensued when he, having arrived without making himself known to customs that he was their new boss, was asked to step behind the yellow line and wait his turn.

There are currently only two ways to get to and from Montserrat. The first is either a 40-minute long ferry ride or a 20-minute long flight, both from Antigua. Montserrat's former airport, along with the former capital Plymouth, were destroyed in the 1997 eruption of Soufriere Hills volcano. For several years afterwards, Montserrat had been only accessible by helicopters or boats until July 2005 when the new John A. Osborne Airport was completed on the north end of the island, prompting flight services to resume.

The pilot & stewardess. Talk about cosy.

Upon landing, I was picked up by representatives from Montserrat Enterprises, then driven to the police station to obtain my local temporary driver's license before being shown to my accommodation. For the next seven-months I'll be put up in the lower half of a colonial-era styled house which has been divided into two apartments, one on the ground floor and the other on the first. I still have yet to meet my neighbour(s), but let's hope they weren't too put off with me blasting the local radio belting out hits from Enrique Igleasis and Westlife (I like this place already!) whilst I was doing my unpacking.

Day One has thus kicked off in the most relaxed manner possible. Last night I sent out a deluge of emails checking-in with the various powers-that-be that I would be working with, but I still have yet to get any response regarding official meetings or school tours. Perhaps I'm just still stuck in hectic big city mode and need to take time to calm down and adapt to the Montserratian way of life.

I have been invited to dinner with the governor of Montserrat, Sir George Martin and their respective families tomorrow. Time to start all that ironing!