The aftershocks continue
The disaster's upending Mauritian socio-political life. Here's the latest.
Hello and welcome to this issue of our newsletter. Every week, Ariel and Khalil, writers based in Mauritius, investigate the impact the oil spill is having on the country and its people, politics and nature.
It’s almost the end of the year, but 2020’s not going to be a chapter of our lives that we can close. We have the pandemic to live with, and the consequences of the oil spill. The aftershocks continue.
The latest
⚫ The political scene is definitely going to change
A major study in October conducted by Kantar states that only 15% of Mauritians surveyed approved of the government’s handling of the Wakashio disaster. 67% disagreed with the government’s actions.
Respondents were also asked which politicians would play a leading role in the country’s future. The answers overwhelmingly favoured Arvin Boolell, Joanna Berenger and Shakeel Mohammed – all members of the opposition at the moment.
More: Read the results of the survey here (in French).
⚫ Carl de Souza refuses a major governmental honour
The illustrious Mauritian author refused to be honoured with the title of Commander of the Order of the Star and Key of the Indian Ocean. It’s an honour given every year by the President of the Republic.
Here’s an extract of the letter that de Souza sent the President:
It is disturbing to note that my last novel, “ARTEFACT”, set almost entirely in Mahebourg Town and harbour, was completed at the moment when the bulk carrier hit us at the precise point of the reef where an essential scene of the story takes place. Some of my friends who roamed with me about Grand-Port Bay and with whom I explored wrecks lying deep in the harbour, as well as proof-readers can testify this “ominous coincidence”. The words of the first chapter bubble out of the mouth of a diver exploring a sunken ship of the Battle of Grand-Port, from times when colonial greed heralded the fierce materialism and avidity of later centuries.
Since March 12th and the announcement of the awards, quite a lot of water has flowed under handsome Pont Cavendish leading to Ville Noire, and as much oil under the fractured bridge of Wakashio. Not to mention the opaque scandals trickling daily in the columns of the media in general.
During the recent months, we as a nation, have suffered considerable damage. In these troubled times my “beloved country” is living through, I feel extremely concerned listening to the youth whose desperation can be witnessed all around. Their dreams, day after day, are clouded by the heavy oil of errors, choked by resounding speeches and unkept promises, jeopardizing any beliefs and trust. Their elders who have witnessed enough since Independence and even before, can provide no answers to soothe their bitterness than walking by their side in our streets.
[…] Since the invasion of my favourite bay by the marée noire, I have been trying to make out my way in the opacity of the nightly marenwar we are enduring, heeding what is echoed everywhere in our country. I have come to the conclusion that the most meaningful, relevant and laudable decoration was the smear of soot on the face and clothes of citizens who have attempted the cleaning of our lagoons and shores; the bruises, cuts and sunburn “decorating” the skin of hundreds of volunteers filling floaters all day long with sugarcane leaves; the sweat damping the clothes of those who helped in every possible way, supplying beverage and food. More recently, the tears streaming down the faces of those mourning departed loved ones in a later accident at sea up the eastern coast...
What would be the meaning of being decorated for past actions when the present is being persistently disfigured and soiled and basic principles of law and justice not seen to be attended to? What would this mean to children, our main concern, having to be rushed out of school where the air they inhale becomes unbreathable? When families are devastated because of irresponsible or belated decisions?
That’s all from me. See you next week - Ariel