According to Father Raymond Breton’s ‘Dictionnaire caraïbe-français’ , published in 1665, the Kalinago of Dominica referred to escaped African slaves with an Arawakan word, ‘kachiona’. In the hills above Colihaut is an area called Kachibona and, a little further to the south, an area called Negres Marons. It was from the depths of the rainforest in these areas that bands of maroons, escaped slaves, led by their chief, Pharcelle, launched raids on the plantations and settlements around the area that is Colihaut today. It is surely no coincidence also that one of the islands most famous la peaud cabwit troups, the band mauvais, hails from this area. To witness the sensay costumes twirling through darkened streets accompanied by goat skin drummers, is a haunting reminder of the cultural heritage of Dominica. From emancipation, back through slavery and beyond to the tribal costumes and dances of West Africa, it is easy to imagine the ghost of Pharcelle and his followers watching you from the darkness of the rainforest in the heights above the village.
Father Breton, who visited Dominica between 1642 and 1650 in an attempt to convert the Kalinago to Christianity, built the first church on the island in a settlement which is now Colihaut. The village is located at the foot of the Colihaut River valley and on the shores of the Caribbean Sea. A narrow street lined with mango trees leads you alongside the river and into the heart of the village where the Roman Catholic Church dominates the small houses, convenience stores and bars. The Church of St. Peter is constructed from stone with large wooden louvre windows and a tall bell tower. On the north side of the church is a small garden and in front of the entrance gate a message of love has been tiled into the pavement.
It was near this message of love that people assembled for the Colihaut 2007 Reunion Hike to Kachibona Lake. To meet and greet people who now live in the UK but who have both past and a present relationships with Colihaut, was a real pleasure and I couldn’t help but feel admiration and respect for those who had made the effort to support their village. Strangers made friends quickly and a spirit of comraderie seemed to develop quite effortlessly.
It is the history, both human and natural, that is the draw for this particular journey.The hike is tricky, through dense forest, following a trail that can be hard to follow and which, in many places, simply disappears. Passing through farmlands and through a river gulley, the route climbs a steep ridge and past some of the largest trees the forests of Dominica have to offer. Huge chatanier with simply enormous buttress roots are a sight to behold, and the largest gommier I have ever seen stands majestically on the crest of a ridge, ruling the forest, dominating history. Down a second deep valley and across a small river, we braced ourselves for a final tough climb. Once at the top of this second ridge, the trail meanders this way and that through the thick forest, and after around two hours, a small opening in the canopy ahead reveals the location of the tranquil water of Kachibona Lake.
And what of this lake ? Well, it is more a small pond these days. Victim of landslides and fallen debris, it is a sad reflection of its former self. Along side one of the shallow, muddy banks lay a large boa constrictor, some six feet long, in the slow process of digesting its breakfast. It began to rain. I imagined how it must have been for those maroon slaves, plucked out of the forests of Africa to survive sea crossing and torment before eventually ending up here. I wanted one of the organisers to say a few words, to remind everyone of the history of the place, but rain, tiredness, a snake, and the thought of lunchtime had stolen centre stage. On the walk back, our guide made a couple of diversions to show us the source of the Coulibistrie River and a beautiful stretch of river rapids. By the time we returned to Colihaut, we had given our muscles a good work-out, we had muddied a few clothes, and we had made some friends. I hope also that we had paid a little homage to those less fortunate who had walked there before us.
