The Wisdom
At the St. George’s bus terminal, we load into the number two bus bound for La Sagesse—French for wisdom—a mostly forested property with a boutique hotel and restaurant. Stella and I take the first bench seat, then my sister Becca with her two kiddos, then Sam and Andrew, with Justus in the back row. We swelter, waiting for the bus to fill so it can leave.
Several people stand outside the bus. The conductor argues with a woman to get inside, but the remaining seats are in the back row. She refuses. It becomes a standoff. Sweat pours down my chest. Stella and I move to the back. With the front bench empty, the bus fills right up. We bounce out of the terminal, and cool air rushes in the windows.
We knock the window forty minutes later and hop out at the La Sagesse Nature Center sign.
In the 1960’s, expatriate Englishman Lord Brownlow built a manor house and gated the entire estate around it, preventing public access to the playing fields, forest, and beach. When Brownlow was abroad in 1975, protesters led by the New Jewel Movement held a trial under an almond tree at the gates of La Sagesse. Maurice Bishop represented the people of Grenada.
Brownlow was convicted for his crimes. The people broke the gates and reclaimed the property. The manor house became the movement’s military base in 1979 and was left in disrepair after the U.S. invasion.
American expat Mike Meranski bought the property in 1987. He restored the manor house and created the hotel and nature center, maintaining public access. The playing fields by the main road are frequently used by schools and other groups. Stella spent the day there with her classmates for her school’s sports day.
To get to La Sagesse beach, we walk about fifteen minutes from the main road down a dirt road. The wide beach spreads in a u-shape, framed by forest. We set up a beach blanket and hammocks in the shade.
A freshwater creek runs from among the trees across the sand to the waves. The younger kids play there all day, building small forts of coconut husks and palm fronds and driftwood. We try to re-apply sunscreen to sandy children.
Where the creek leaves the trees, we stare upstream. It looks mysterious, and I half-expect an alligator to emerge. The water is tannic brown but clear, so we can watch small fish and crabs. Sam reels in a large crab with his handline, slowly, until Andrew almost grabs it. And we yelp as it almost grabs Andrew.
We swim. The waves are perfect for the little kids to ride Sam’s inflatable boogie board, but not quite strong enough to carry an adult-sized body. We try anyway. It feels good to let the waves carry our bodies back and forth.
While the kids play, we place orders at the restaurant, knowing the tendency for food to arrive on island time, but it’s worth the wait. Fish and chips. Fish tacos. Burger and fries. The food is delicious.
On another day, we will revisit this beach with our friends Nate and Sarah and Otto and Margot. Again, the kids will build worlds in the creek. The waves will be even bigger, and we’ll dive through them and leap up into the curl of them. Both days leave us salty and sand-filled and sun-kissed.
It seems a decent compromise for a natural space to accommodate both private business and public use while protecting natural resources.
Unfortunately, the mangroves have recently suffered, being cut down for ultra-luxury resort construction by Range Developments, a Caribbean Citizenship by Investment company. Buy a fancy suite, get a Grenadian passport.
Someone is benefitting from this deal, and it’s not the ecosystems. Mangroves and wetlands protect the delicate boundaries between ocean and land, the rich life-scape at the edge of saltwater and freshwater. They also provide habitat for 89 bird species and endangered hawksbill and leatherback sea turtles.
Someone will enjoy the private plunge pool and world-class amenities in each resort suite, but it will not be the people of Grenada. Although tourism is crucial to this island’s economy, I wonder how this development style will benefit Grenada-born citizens, and if the benefit is worth the cost.
The pattern is familiar and widespread: A naturally and culturally rich place is diminished by developers who claim to value it without understanding it. But it could be otherwise.
As the afternoon wanes, the tide comes up the beach. The sandy creek bed shifts and widens. The glaring sunlight becomes golden. Tired, we skip the bus and hire a taxi for the ride home.
