About St Vincent and The Grenadines

St Vincent and The Grenadines lies in the eastern Caribbean Sea. It is made up of the island of St Vincent and the northern Grenadines, a group of 32 smaller islands and cays (low banks of coral or rock) to the south. The southern Grenadines are part of Grenada. St Vincent and The Grenadines is volcanic, with one volcano still active, and mountainous. The islands are covered in forest.

Find out more about St Vincent and The Grenadines

Language

English Vincentian Creole

Whilst English is the official language, Vincentian Creole is widely spoken.

Population

110,900 (2022)

Area

390 square kilometres

High Commissioner

H.E. Cenio Lewis

Capital

Kingstown

Joined Commonwealth

1979, following independence from Britain

Episode guests

Philip Nanton

Philip Nanton

Writer and Spoken Word Performer

Philip Nanton is a writer and spoken-word performer from St. Vincent and the Grenadines who lives in Barbados. He has performed his work across the Caribbean and internationally. In 2012, he represented St. Vincent & the Grenadines at the Poetry Parnassus in London. His poems and prose essays have been widely published. In 2008 he produced a spoken word cd ‘Island Voices from St Christopher & the Barracudas‘, an affectionately humorous dramatization of individual voices that capture aspects of island life. They were published as a collection in 2014 with Papillote Press. In 2016 Philip brought out the poetry collection ‘Canouan Suite & Other Pieces’ with the same publisher. In 2017 he published a monograph ‘Frontiers of the Caribbean’, which takes a new approach to situating the Caribbean in world literature (Manchester University Press). His most recent book is a biography of the neglected Vincentian jazz musician and poet, Shake Keane: ‘Riff: The Shake Keane Story’ (Papillote Press, 2021).

Punctuation Marks

by Philip Nanton

From: Canouan Suite & Other Pieces, Papillote Press, 2016.

Where sea and land meet, begin there.
The ampersand, the join, is a fault
which caused jagged peaks to rise
from the ocean’s floor
spanning a vacant gulf.
On any map of the world they are footnotes
Reminders of nature’s force.

Long ago, nomads, fragile as their pottery
skimming waves, trecking from south to north
stopped once too often for wood and water
and perished.
From the pre-ceramic Cibony
to the ceramics of Saladoid and Suazoid
we know them by their shards.
Common island Caribs, sunk in a murderous tide
that flowed from east to west
bearing assassins and poets
the discoverers of the New World.

Come nearer, focus on one dot of an island.
I was born there, on the rim of a volcano
on the edge of a large full stop
where the sand is black
where the hills are a gun-barrel blue
where the sea perpetually dashes at the shoreline
trying to reclaim it all.

Kitchen Combo

by Philip Nanton

From: Canouan Suite & Other Pieces, Papillote Press, 2016.

‘Round midnight
when the old house lies dark and deep
the owners all gone off to sleep
that’s when the kitchen combo wakes
and starts to find its groove.
The oven clock beats a 4/4 time
Salt shakes high and Salt shakes low
calls a tune all the pans will know
and soon they’re cooking.

Slim vinegar licks her fingers
up and down the guitar neck.
Pepper Sauce says ‘what the heck
no one here will sleep till dawn’
and blows himself a fiery horn.
When Batch the Bread Loaf sings
his stomach rolls.

Sad Scratch the Grater sits up straighter than a ladder
scrapes his off -beat up and down the larder.
Just one thing makes old Scratch sad and low
no fork, no knife, no spoon ever wants a grater solo.

All That Jazz

by Philip Nanton

From: Canouan Suite & Other Pieces, Papillote Press, 2016.

On the hill each year

everyone’s making style.

The grassy bank’s polka-dotted with people
popping corks and passing plates

And that style is coo-ool.

There’s no cooler place than up the mound
looking down on the sound
as you ease and squeeze your way ‘round

flash the flesh to folks
you haven’t seen for
oooooh……….days.

And there’s Eugene with one fist round a Banks
and one arm round the shanks of…

……. who was that I saw you with?

Did you see what I did?

….. And don’t say that I said
but things are coming to a head.

It’s so cool when the white wine’s chilling
though the buffs come for the billing
by the last set all the folks are willing
for just one more number, sweet and low

pleeease mister sax-man just one more blow

Then we’ll pack our plates and spoons
and following that rising fickle moon
we too are soon

out of here.