The Ten Incarnations of Adam Avatar (65 page)

That ignorance was what underlay the uprising in 1970, when thousands of Negroes, now Black, marched through the city and the towns. The island's leaders were descended from Africans and though Dr. Williams, with his perpetual dark shades and his hearing-aid, had come to office fifteen years before by preaching about the evils of colonial rule, he and his party's leaders soon came to look like clones of the former colonial rulers, lacking only their efficiency.

So the black men marched, fists thrust towards the harsh sun, and the politicians and the fair-skinned people and the East Indians hid in their houses. These were protests sparked from the fire of Black Power in the United States, whose giant shadow we lived in and whose shadows our young people were becoming. The uprising's leaders wore their dashikis and Afro hairstyles and took Yoruba names and called themselves African, but they had only lately exchanged their ties and jackets – and the next generation would still wear Levis and follow African-Americans' fashions and call it identity.

But, shadow or not, the Caribbean is a laboratory of the world: where we succeed is where the human race shall succeed, and where we fail is where the species shall fail. I walked with the crowds that day, though I told my parents nothing. In the faces of the young I saw purpose, but in their bodies I saw an old desperation. And they walked and they talked and the politicians made promises. No one was killed, ruler or ruled, and that was a kind of progress. But the seed of purpose fell on stony soil and did not take root.

Still, the seed remains. It is there in the Carnival, rooted in Europe's masks and Africa's dance, lately expanded to include India's music. For Trinidad is in many ways an extreme example of the plurality of global culture. Ours is an unusually open society, always willing to embrace the cultures of other societies, all contained within the pretence, the mockery, the laughter, and the sensuality that is the Carnival. Whether that openness is rooted in insecurity or empathy or curiosity – or all of the above, the result is a dynamism that, for good or ill, marks true true Trinis.

Yet, if there's one other thing I've learned in my lives, it is that bigots will always be with us. I saw them five centuries ago, when I was named Guiakan, and I see them today, when I am named Adam Avatar. And, to my eternal shame – and I mean that literally – I have been one of them.

Bigotry is the besetting fault of the human race. By definition, therefore, it is quite natural to be a racist. I do not say this to excuse myself or anyone else. But it is a matter of cold fact that the strangest persons amongst the human race are those who are free of ethnic prejudice and class bias and so on. But no one is not a bigot in some way. I myself am extremely bigoted against bigots. But now I walk the world as if invisible, for all groups take me to be one of its own. And, indeed, my skin does subtly lighten or darken according to the people I lime with: so trivial a matter, complexion, and yet it has directed the fate of nations.

In school I was able to move between groups easily, because of my appearance, but also because, even before I knew of my past lives, I had an instinct which allowed me to change my personality to fit with every group. And so the Triniafros saw me as one of them and the Trinindos saw me as one of them and even the Trinieuros accepted me into their groups, since money can often conquer older prejudice. But, for most mortals, it appears almost inevitable that each group of human beings will always define themselves in opposition to another group of human beings. That is what belonging to a group means and every human needs to have a group. But I have always remained separate, with many acquaintances from all walks of life, but friends from none.

And in my isolation I ask this question: why are there some mortals who, like me, are not prejudiced? I make no claim of moral superiority for myself. I am free of racial or religious or sexual bigotry because I have knowledge of my varied selves. Prejudice is now impossible for me. But how come there are mortals who also share my tolerance? This was a question that fascinated me, for the answer pointed to humankind's best future. The explanation, it seemed, given that categorization is so fundamental to our mental processes, was that liberal, tolerant people are able to slot other people, and themselves, into categories wide enough to supersede differences of ethnicity or race or gender or class or creed.

Perhaps the combination of smallness and complexity in Trinidad, which has virtually forced generosity of categories upon us, accounts in large part for our peaceful racial history, plus the non-racial perspectives of most of the younger, middle-class generation. I specify the middle-class because poverty and wealth always drive people back to their primal selves: that is the tragedy of having too little or having too much. Our primal selves were fitted for the African savannas: we are in many ways maladapted to the modern world.

So that is why when I say that it is
natural
to be racist, I do not mean that that makes racism
right
. The naturalistic fallacy, which confuses morals with science, is a fault that plagues even the most competent thinkers. But the irony is that the most virulent bigots often pose as spiritually driven, intellectually able persons, even as their coarse categorisation reveal how completely controlled they are by basic biology. But I, too, suffer that biological limitation, and I can break free of it only by defeating the Shadowman. Though I now wonder if it is the other way around: that, if I break free of it, I can defeat him.

We were wealthy enough so that none of us needed to work. For the first few years after I was born, Emily kept herself busy managing the estate while Adaku was more than occupied taking care of me. But, after I turned five, Emily was mainly responsible for my education and my mother took a job as a primary school teacher. After I passed the 11-plus exam, Emily also decided to become a teacher, at secondary level, because she had rather enjoyed educating me.

School was a weird and primitive place. The college I attended was run by the Presbyterian church, which had sent missionaries to Trinidad in the nineteenth century to convert Hindus to Christianity. I recall its uneven, unplanned buildings, the low buzz that at recess and lunchtime always erupted into the unbelievable cacophony of several hundred teenage boys. I always felt out of place, perhaps because, although I had not yet begun to regain my memories, the unconscious knowledge of my past selves gave me an adult air. The other boys thought I was snobbish and often tried to provoke me. But their insults only made me smile in puzzlement. Yet I was not above provocation. One day, I saw a bigger boy taking money from one of my classmates, a small quiet boy who wore glasses. I told the bigger boy to stop, and he tried to hit me. I did not mean to break his wrist, but at thirteen I did not know the strength of my maturing body and I was not aware that Li's
jiu-jitsu
training was in my very DNA. I was suspended for a week; I would have been expelled were my parents not rich. But I never had any trouble after that from anyone else. My quietness made the other boys cautious, and the talk behind my back was that I was either mad or some sort of genius.

The latter opinion gained prevalence by Form Three. I had no respect for most of the teachers, and would often ask difficult questions in class. Save for the Literature and English teacher, most of the teachers were not interested in teaching the children to think and question. The students who scored highest in the end-of-term tests were those who were best at memorizing and at agreeing. My history teachers had the hardest time from me, and I was often beaten for rudeness with a leather belt on the palms of my hands. The other boys respected me even more for this, as well as for the fact that the girls from the neighbouring schools found me very attractive, although – or, perhaps, because – I was indifferent to them.

School bored me. The main thing I learned there was that learning and thinking are two entirely different processes. Indeed, I learned that it is quite possible to be intellectual without being intelligent and, when I came to teach at the university, I discovered it was even likely. The vast majority of academics, I have found, absorb ready-made paradigms, theories, ideas, then spend the rest of their lives regurgitating. Although these professors may appear intelligent, there is no significant process of thought going on within their skulls. Their intellectual ability impresses only because of the sophistication and/or technicality of the ideas they so glibly parrot. Intellectual thought is nothing but a mechanical activity that is as far removed from true intelligence as the instinct by which a spider spins its web. This is why ideas are dangerous. Not because ideas change the world but because, strange as it may seem, ideas more often stop people from thinking than otherwise.

When a man is convinced of the absolute rightness of his ideas, he feels he doesn't need to think any more. And a man who does not think is a man who cannot be reasoned with. And no man is so utterly beyond reason as an intellectual who feels his ideas are supported, usually by limited logic applied to selective evidence, but mostly by moral rightness.

As an immortal who has known conquerors, I know that the worst atrocities of history have always had such ideas fueling them – the genocide of the Tainos, the Spanish Inquisition, the Nazi Holocaust, Stalinist purges, South Africa's apartheid. That, to my mind, is the real danger in the war of words between religious fundamentalists – Hindu, Christian, Muslim – occurring all around the world, including Trinidad. Such pseudo-intellectual ignorance can be counteracted only if a society has a core of people who are both intellectual and intelligent.

It was for this reason that, after graduating from university with a degree in philosophy, I decided to set up a Foundation to provide financial assistance to poor but bright children. Both government and private sector fund many scholarships at secondary school level but, naturally, nearly all those scholarships are won by students who don't really need them. The Foundation was set up in Emily's name, and she and Adaku located and investigated the candidates. We started at primary level, and I took a job as a primary school teacher so I could personally oversee at least some of the children we were helping. Later, I taught at secondary level and, for the past fifteen years, I have taught at university level. My master's degree is in Literature and my PhD is in History. I teach a course called Syncretic Thinking 101 - a combination of philosophy, psychology, literature, history, biology and physics - which the university would never have introduced except that the Emily Thomas Foundation funded the chair.

I am alone in this life. My grandmother and my mother are dead. I have no other family. And I have no close friends, because true friendship cannot exist without revelation or discovery. Mostly, I stay at home and read or write. I do not even travel out of the country any more. But occasionally I go out, to lime in the popular pubs. I enjoy being among the people, and to listen to music that swings from popular music to calypso to reggae to chutney to rock and back again. And the people dance to all, body language transmuting from African to American to Indian, but remaining Caribbean all the while.

I drink and talk casually to people I don't know. Women are always interested in me, because of my assurance, intelligence, and wealth. But all these are consequences of my immortality, and my immortality means that I can never have more than casual romantic partners. I always tell them this, and too many women acquiesce, believing that I will change. And they get hurt and angry when they discover I know my own mind. So I prefer to be alone, having those fleeting yet meaningful interactions which one never forgets. It is difficult, because Trinidad has more attractive women per square kilometre than any other country I know. This is partly the result of the racial mixture, so exotic-looking females are almost the rule rather than the exception, and partly the result of a Carnival culture which leads to Trinidadian women being almost instinctively stylish. But it is not only appearance that makes them attractive: many women I know have generous hearts that fuel a natural sensuality. Quite a few women combine all these qualities with an independent spirit, free of feminist edginess, and a lively intelligence that is in no way dogmatic. It would be so easy to fall in love. But I cannot and I must not. The women with whom I could fall in love deserve more than I could give them.

My work keeps me busy and focused. Even as a very young man, I knew that work, not relationships, would be what made my life meaningful. It is the only choice for an immortal.

My method was to help the disadvantaged in society in a noncharitable way, and to teach young people how to behave rationally. The first part is easy; the second, even after twenty years, often seems impossible. Most people, you see, are not interested in truth. That is why people usually choose their beliefs, not according to how much sense the beliefs make, but how well they fit their prejudices. Those ideas which make an individual uncomfortable, or insecure, or which do not advance his status, are usually dismissed as untrue.

Because of my varied experience, I have grown up free of prejudice. But, for mortals, it seems that only geniuses can overcome their own biases. Indeed, the difference between genius and normal intelligence may well be rooted in the willingness to deal with uncomfortable ideas or conclusions. When Darwin was in the field, he put down in his notebook everything that seemed to contradict his theory of evolution. “If I did not, I would tend to forget the contradictory evidence, since what stays in the mind is whatever we find most agreeable,” he wrote.

The person who is genuinely interested in truth is not openminded, but critical-minded. A critically-minded person initially treats all ideas with suspicion (without adopting the absurd post-modernist view which claims that facts can never be truly known). In the modern world, it is impossible to build a stable, progressive society without a critical approach to problems, whether economic, social or political. It is this truth which Russell had in mind when he wrote: “Many may contend that, even if the systems men have invented are untrue, they are harmless and comforting, and should be left undisturbed. But they are in fact not harmless, and the comfort they bring is dearly bought by the preventable misery which they lead men to tolerate...The search for a happiness based upon untrue beliefs is neither very noble nor very glorious...No man is liberated from fear who dare not see his place in the world as it is; no man can achieve the greatness of which he is capable until he has allowed himself to see his own littleness.”