Dear Editor,
As a trained historian and anthropologist, I was unnerved when reading Marjoleine Kars’s “Blood on the River: A Chronicle of Mutiny and Freedom on the Wild Coast” last year. This book is written about us, but certainly not for us. Without reviewing it in detail, I would like to point to some of the problematic aspects of the text.
Repeated references and questionable comparisons to the American Revolution leaves the reader constantly questioning who the book could have been written for. Parallels drawn between formerly enslaved rebels in Berbice and plantation owners rebelling against taxes in 13 colonies is not only a stretch, but a worrying way to frame a historical institution like slavery. This was not the only troubling comparison in the book. In another passage in her work, Kars refers to a mutiny by European soldiers stating that- ‘enslaved people were not the only disaffected workers in Berbice’, drawing a comparison between mercenaries and slave hunters whose pay was late and enslaved ‘workers’. In Texas, a 2015 textbook similarly referred to enslaved Africans as ‘workers’ and tried to draw comparisons between their plight and that of indentured workers. The struggle to correct the text and recall the geography book rekindled a debate about how white America (and Europe) deals with race and slavery — especially the power of language and grammar as tools to interpret history, already a subjective area to teach. Kars seemed to have missed this debate altogether.
Another troubling aspect of Kars writing is the treatment and space given to various individuals and voices found in the archives. Her focus and handling of the daughter of a plantation owner held hostage by the rebels is telling. In a work about enslavement and rebellion, in which Kars reduces motivations of African women to that of punishing ‘European women, whose white privilege was based on black women’s degradation’ she singles out Georgina as a ‘real survivor’. While these passages humanize and reveal a great deal about Georgina and her circumstances, they illuminate virtually nothing about the multidimensionality of enslaved women-except this brief and superficial reading of their motivations and actions.
In addition to questionable gender and race politics, the work in some places lacks historical accuracy. Her assessment of the role of Indigenous peoples in supporting colonialism and the vital role they played as key lynchpins in slavery is shallow and at times bordering on the European notion of the ‘noble savage’. Kars’ claim that indigenous peoples came to the aide of the Dutch due to fear of competition over scarce resources or retaliatory attacks does not stand up to historical scrutiny, in fact she even contradicts this argument several times in her own work. Kars mentions that the indigenous people who fought the African rebels in Berbice were recruited in Essequibo and beyond- they were in effect mercenaries. Some travelled 350 km from the Upper Mazaruni to fight self- liberated Africans they had no prior interaction with. The contingent from ‘foreign lands’ such as Venezuela and Suriname, would have travelled 700 km to wage war on a people whose freedom would have in no way affected theirs or diminished their political or resource security. Kars fails to see beyond this romanticized rationale for the indigenous-colonial alliance against Africans in Berbice. She admits that indigenous people were key in turning Berbice into a prison for Africans, without ever attempting to explore why.
A rather odd section of the work is devoted to cannibalism among the African rebels. While the historical record shows no evidence save for accusations of ‘slave catchers’ and testimonies of re-enslaved Africans bent on showing how cruel the rebels were and why they were never a part of it, Kars delves into the topic with little accuracy. In one passage, Kars recounts that a local indigenous elder recounted tales of cannibalism among the rebels, who had a taste for indigenous children- an interview which took place some 243 years after the rebellion. In this, Kars shows a lack of sensitivity or understanding of the broader context and dehumanizing nature of racism/racialization in Guyana. Accusations of cannibalism against Africans is a form of structural violence and violence is never idiosyncratic. It has deep meaning for the user and the victim even when outsiders don’t recognize it.
While there is no evidence of African cannibalism towards indigenous peoples during the rebellion, there is ample evidence of the reverse that Kars has missed or chosen not to engage with. In his seminal historical work on the Caribs in the Guianas, Neil Whitehead highlights ritual cannibalism of war captives as part of the cultural practice of the Caribs in the region. He also lists several accounts of Carib warriors engaging in such practices while putting down the rebellion. Kars seems to not have cross referenced her research.
Blood on the River by Marjoleine Kars proves that one can be an expert on the institution of slavery without being a scholar on enslaved peoples; as a result the work reads more like historical fiction than a historical accounting of the 1763 rebellion.
Yours faithfully,
Dr Kwesi Sansculotte-
Greenidge
