Bourdain and the Syrian Problem March 9
I watch a lot of CNN in Trinidad. There is only one hour that my TV screen on Channel 254 goes black, and this is when “Parts Unknown“ is airing. The program is evidently unavailable to my Flow Cable package, but I feel Anthony Bourdain’s absence in the ether as a special deprivation, being a fellow traveler. Unlike the explorer, who may recount his adventures for the pleasure of king and country, the traveler is part of the diaspora. Always the outsider, he can never go home. CNN would tease me with promotions during the week before an episode, and one in particular continues to play over in my head—Bourdain sitting alone in silhouette at dusk on some distant savannah, drinking from a metal cup, listening to birds. I know what he is thinking—fish out of water for too long become dead fish.
In the summer of 2017, Bourdain created a stir when he brought “Parts Unknown“ to Trinidad and Tobago. To start, he was less than impressed with Doubles, the popular street food and point of national pride, faulting the fried-dough “Bara“ delivery system. Of course, locals know exactly how to eat them, which is to fold, clench, devour, and rinse. My biggest problems are curried chickpea “Channa“ spillage and eating the paper wrapper, which is also delicious.
He similarly did little for Trinbago’s struggling tourist industry by pointing out that our murder rate is higher than that of Chicago or Detroit or Oakland, and it is still on the rise. The 88th murder of 2019 occurred yet again in D’ego Martin, not far from Saint Anthony’s elementary school and Harp Valley panyard, and again it was gunfire that took down the young black man, wounded his friend, and terrorized a community.
Yet the program segment that still has people talking about the late Anthony Bourdain is his lavish dinner at Bayside Towers, in Westmoorings, with a Syrian-Lebanese family, part of Trinidad’s most elite class. It is well known that this tiny minority of 5000 (of 1.3 million, 0.4%) influences the levers of government—they indeed constitute PM Keit’ Rowley’s biggest campaign contributor—but to broadcast on CNN that “we are the smallest but most powerful“ ethnic group in the country was extraordinary. And dangerous.
Syrians first arrived in Trinidad after the turn of the 20th century. In the days before Lawrence of Arabia, “Greater Syria“ was composed of present-day Syria, Iraq, Lebanon, Palestine, Jordan and Israel—and almost all of it belonged to Britain. In fact, most of Trinidad’s oldest immigrants came from other colonies—India, Southeast Asia, Africa—and the Empire may have particularly favored the Syrians because they were Christians escaping persecution.
“Why are Syrian-Lebanese so successful?“ asked the front-page article of TT Guardian, only one month before Bourdain’s program aired. The timing suggests this was calculated public-relations spin. The story stressed a solid work ethic, humble beginnings, a hundred years of patriotic service, adoption of Roman Catholicism, and, especially, the importance of family. The marriage rate in Trinidad is barely 50%, whereas among Syrians it is 66%, and their large extended families have been described as “pack-like“ by the local press.
The problem these Middle-Eastern Trinidadians have is that their wealth is considered suspect. The money must be dirty. The conspiracy among the government, banks, cartels, and the security apparatus is financed in coordination with “men who are good with money,“ or so the old trope goes. The Semites—as Mexicans in the capital refer to their own “Greater Syrian“ population, including Jews, Palestinians, and Lebanese billionaire Carlos Slim, their richest citizen—have endured a troubled reputation throughout the world for over two millennia, and this island offers no exception. Even the narco-gangsters call them the bosses. It is too easy.
“In T&T the man in the street seems to think that some ‘Syrians’ may have profited from illegal activities—however, even if this were true of individuals, it does not explain the success of the group nor why Lebanese have been similarly successful in all parts of the world in virtually the same types of businesses (finance, food service, import, real estate, communication).“ TT Guardian, May ‘17
Bourdain’s alcoholism was put to good use in Westmoorings, as he liquored up his gracious subjects with Grey Goose, and the conversation flowed like coconut water. When the son spoke of “power“ on the penthouse patio, the ladies chuckled awkwardly, while the father only scowled. Tony perfectly conjured the thoughts of five-thousand:
“Hey, don’t brag.“