

































Green Gold is No More

David Allens 2T1
University of Toronto
OISE Leadership, Higher and Adult Education

With the collapse of the Banana 
industry, Gabriel Allahdua was 
thrust into a new reality that 
highlights the challenges of life 
under the externalities of neoco-
lonialism. Almost 10 years later, 
Allahdua is one of many who 
have endured Canada’s migrant 
worker programmes and is 
currently an advocate for 
change.

A B S T R A C T

Keywords: neocolonialism, St. Lucia, banana 
trade, migrant worker rights, trade liberalization, 

Canada
B I O

David Allens has  been an active member of the Caribbean Studies program and commu-
nity since his first-year of undergrad at the University of Toronto when he served as 
Public Relations Coordinator for the Caribbean Studies Students’ Union (CARSSU). As 
a MEd candidate in Adult Education and Community Development, David’s current 
research interest surround the organizational development needs of public sector reform 
in the Common-Law Caribbean. 

© 2021 David Allens
Caribbean Studies Students’ Union, Canada - https://jps.library.utoronto.ca/index.php/cquilt/

                       This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution- ShareAlike 4.0 International License. 
                       To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

48

St. Lucian Activist and former migrant worker 
Gabriel Allahdua marches at a rally in support of 

migrant workers’ rights in Ottawa in October 2016. 
(Justice for Migrant Workers)

(January 20, 2022 / 08:53:06)

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49

Gabriel Allahdua sits in his mother’s 
home on the eastern side of St. Lucia, 
where he grew up as the penultimate of 
her nine children. His mother and broth-
er-in-law both recently passed, and 
Gabriel was on the island and in the 
homestead to “play [his] role.” The 
two-story home on Austin Hill in Derni-
ere Riviere was surrounded by freshly cut 
grass, and tropical shrubbery hiding in 
the shade of the housepossible case of 
re-infection. With this protective mecha-
nism in mind, coupled with the Indige-
nous Caribbean inhabitants’ immune 
systems, unaccustomed to alien diseases, 
viral and bacterial infection exploded into 
the leading cause of death of these once 
virile populations. As a result, disease 
ultimately posed a greater threat to 
survival than armed invasion (Montene-
gro and Stephens 2006, 1861).

"I was forced to become a migrant 
worker," the fifty-year-old said with a 
sardonic chuckle. “At that time, I was 
self-employed in five different things, I 
thought my income was diversified, and 
then the hurricane just destroyed my 
whole livelihood." Allahdua described 
Hurricane Thomas as the final “nail in the 
coffin” for many people on the island. 
The apex of a series of unfortunate – and 
in some instances orchestrated – events 
that led to the collapse of St. Lucia’s 
largest industry.

Gabriel’s father (who was 60 years old 
when his son was born) was a beekeeper. 
Having learned the trade “from a very 
tender age,” Gabriel, the sixteenth of his 
father’s seventeen known children, 
"continued the tradition after [his] father 
died in 1998." By the next year though, 

“I had to diversify my income.”

“I [started] operating a small greenhouse 
which, when compared to Canada and the 
United States of America (USA), it was 
like I was a hobbyist, but for me, in my 
tiny country it is something you can do to 
survive," or at least is a viable opportuni-
ty to supplement one's income.

What Gabriel did not know at the time 
was that “green gold” – the backbone of 
the countryside community of Dennery – 
was on the verge of collapse. Nor would 
he have been aware of the devastating 
rippling effects its failure would lead to.

Since the 1950s, the United Kingdom 
(UK) allowed the protected sale of 
Caribbean bananas to replace unprofit-
able sugar production, and in 1975 under 
the Lomé Convention, this opportunity 
was expanded to the rest of the European 
Union, allowing African, Caribbean and 
Pacific countries to set prices for fixed 
amounts of commodities regardless of the 
global market price. These protections 
provided a way for the markets of former 
European colonies like St. Lucia to 
develop without relying on foreign aid. 

At its peak in the early 1990s, the Lomé 
Convention protections ensured that the 
banana industry could increase to about 
20 percent of the Windward Islands' 
GDP, providing immense opportunities 
for working-class St Lucians.

(January 20, 2022 / 08:53:06)

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50

“[Children] saw that their parents were 
not educated, and their parents could 
access credit. Their parents could buy a 
van, their parents could do some 
improvements on their own. That was a 
strong message to them that you do not 
need an education to survive.” This was 
socialized in children from a young age. 
“The very first place where I worked, [ 
was La Ressource Primary School] in the 
countryside, and it has a record around 
the country for the lowest school atten-
dance.” "Once bananas start producing, 
you can harvest at least twice for the 
month," and on harvesting days, the 
children were taken away from school to 
work, Gabriel explained. The downside 
of this practice would soon be increasing-
ly evident.

Struggling against an ‘unleashed’ force

Despite forming such a large share of the 
local GDP, Windward Island bananas 
only represented seven percent of Euro-
pean banana imports. Three-quarters 
came from US multinational corporations 
in control of the Latin American banana 
crop. These American multinationals 
petitioned to end the Lomé protections 
under Sec. 301 of the US Trade Act. As 
the European Commission put it in 1997, 
this “unleashed the full force of the US's 
legal and administrative resources, 
against the struggling democracies of 7 
small Caribbean countries whose com-
bined wealth [at the time was] less than 
0.4% of that of the US." Throughout this 
process, few people in St. Lucia really 
considered that “green gold was no 
more.” It was “not until it really hit us 
hard, that I would say they really took it 
seriously.” “They always expected that 

the government would intervene,” 
Gabriel continued. “People always 
expected green gold to be green gold.” 
The World Trade Organization (WTO) 
twice ruled against the EU's banana 
import regime, and by April 2001, after a 
series of retaliatory sanctions were 
authorized by the WTO, the EU agreed to 
change its existing preferred zone frame-
work by 2006. 

“We really experienced [the effects of 
those decisions] firsthand in St. Lucia 
because banana was our main crop," 
Gabriel said. Without those protections, 
St. Lucia’s producers could not compete. 
“St. Lucia is a volcanic island and very 
mountainous,” Gabriel explained. 
“Because it is mountainous, a lot of the 
banana cultivation [cannot be] mechani-
cal.” Large producers find it challenging 
to operate on the island without sufficient 
flatland suitable for industrial equipment, 
so instead, “a very large percentage of 
banana producers were small farmers” 
who grappled with high production costs. 
Gabriel paused, gathering his thoughts, 
before estimating that small farmers were 
responsible for over 60 to 75 percent of 
production. "At one point, it was estimat-
ed that we had between 12 and 15 
thousand farmers. Multiply that 12 to 15 
thousand by an average of three workers 
on harvesting days, and you have a very 
significant labour force working in 
agriculture.” 

"Can you imagine that at this point in 
time, we have less than 300 farmers? Can 
you imagine the impact?" Gabriel asked 
before repeating himself, reconsidering. 
"That's if we have 100 right now," he 
said, "that's the impact on employment."

(January 20, 2022 / 08:53:06)

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51

By 2012, this environment became 
untenable for both Gabriel and his five 
interconnected jobs. He had worked as 
both a beekeeper and a middleman for 
farmers while managing a convenience 
store and greenhouse. “All of that was 
happening in the countryside," Gabriel 
explained, where everything is easily 
susceptible to the exigencies of the global 
agriculture market.

"The WTO ruling[s] drove people off the 
land. That's one," he said, listing the 
factors that upended the livelihoods of 
those in Dennery. “Number two, the 2008 
global financial crisis made things 
worse.” And then, “imagine you don't 
have preferential treatment, your income 
is affected, and now you have to use a lot 
of that income to control a [disease] you 
never had before.” Gabriel was referring 
to Black Sigatoka, "an important devel-
opment" in the banana industry's decline. 
This amounted to fewer farmers able to 
support the convenience store or Gabri-
el’s middleman operation. Next was the 
varroa mite – or “dynamite” as he called 
it – that ruined his beekeeping. "Anytime 
your hives are infested with [varroa 
mite], you lose anything between 50% 
and 100%, so that's a dynamite man.” All 
that was left was the greenhouse, and 
"that could not sustain me," Gabriel said, 
shaking his head solemnly. Finally, 
“Hurricane Thomas in 2010 was the 
really hard straw that broke the camel’s 
back for me and for most people.”

So, "literally, I was forced [to migrate]. I 
didn’t do that by chance, I didn’t do that 
by choice.” To Gabriel and others, these 
factors appear to amount to nothing less 
than a funnel that engineers environments 

in developing nations, forcing residents 
to migrate to the first world under less 
than ideal circumstances.

“So why do they interfere? Why do they 
exploit?” Gabriel asked rhetorically. 
“[America] has always seen the islands of 
the Caribbean to be in their backyard not 
only because of war [or] to protect their 
[domestic] interests and their own home 
but also, you know, America is grab; they 
just grab.” “Capitalism is the very few at 
the expense of the majority, and that’s 
what this is,” he surmised. It demon-
strates what first world countries may 
choose to ignore; their interference and 
exploitation wear away at the resiliency 
and safety nets of smaller countries – and 
their residents like Gabriel – leaving 
them susceptible to unavoidable factors – 
like Hurricane Thomas and unexpected 
“dynamite.” 

Gabriel left his home very early on 
Thursday, January 12th, 2012, leaving 
enough time for the one-hour drive to 
George F.L. Charles Airport and the two 
hours needed to check-in and clear 
security before his 6:40 AM flight to 
Barbados. 

Weeks before, an officer from the St. 
Lucian Ministry of Labour “had [Gabriel 
and the sixteen others travelling with 
him] sign a whole set of paperwork,” 
never stopping to explain or give legal 
advice. “Just sign sign sign.” At the 
airport, one of them was christened the 
government’s armour bearer and received 
everyone’s paperwork to be presented at 
Pearson International Airport.

(January 20, 2022 / 08:53:06)

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In hindsight, Gabriel sees his journey and 
these initial experiences as a harbinger 
for Canada’s Seasonal Agricultural 
Worker Programme (SAWP).

The flight into Grantley Adams Interna-
tional Airport (BGI) left the soon to be 
‘temporary foreign workers’ with an 
almost 10-hour layover on a “bright, 
sunny” 81°F day. During the layover, “I 
got to know that that same small airline 
had other flights into Barbados. So why 
couldn’t they [book us one of those] you 
know?" he said, laughing. "What is the 
point, right? Why leave so early only to 
kill so many hours in Barbados.” Two 
LIAT flights were scheduled to arrive at 
BGI before the eventually delayed 
AC967's original departure time.

BGI sports an open-air concept. Large 
dark blue fans with narrow blades cover 
the check-in area, while ceiling-high 
support columns surround a bar where 
Gabriel watched a replays of Windies 
cricket matches. “Can't recall the oppo-
nents, but it was exciting enough for me 
to watch over and over again."

The bar sits in the center of a courtyard 
that faces the curb and parking lot. 
Beyond both is Pug’s – a red and white 
trimmed bar with picnic tables on its 
front veranda. While Gabriel watched the 
match, others in the group went to 
“socialize and get to know each other” – 
and more importantly – to drink beers at 
a lower price within walking distance of 
the airport. Despite the annoyance of the 
layover, the experience would prove to be 
a reprieve.

Under the cover of darkness
As the nearly full 146-seater Airbus A320 
taxied on the runway, Gabriel remembers 
feeling a sense of dissonance. Conflicted 
between “economics” and a growing 
ominous feeling.

To many, Canada is emblematic. "You 
cannot study geography and don't study 
Niagara Falls, you know? When you 
study about diversity, it's Canada. So, the 
way Canada is portrayed, I wanted to be 
there.” Especially considering that when 
“in a difficult situation […] you’re 
anxious to better [it].” Conversely, 
workers’ rights had begun to be dimin-
ished through coercion to comply with an 
onslaught of unexplained paperwork, lest 
they be labelled "a troublemaker."

Despite the red flags, Gabriel knew of no 
programme-related complaints. More-
over, he perceived acceptance into the 
SAWP to be the second time Canada had 
been influential at a “very important 
occasion in my life.” 

In 1989, Gabriel completed secondary 
school education, "thanks to the govern-
ment and people of Canada." With a 
shortage of secondary institutions, many 
were unable to further their education. In 
the 1970s however, Castries Comprehen-
sive was built as the first of 150 ‘Maple 
Leaf’ schools and has continued to have 
Canadian governmental support. "It is 
because of Canada, I got a second chance 
to complete a secondary school educa-
tion,” so comforted by its image as "the 
gentleman," he trusted Canada again. 
Eager for "a great opportunity to get out 
of the vicious cycle of poverty.”

(January 20, 2022 / 08:53:06)

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The Air Canada flight completed its 
descent into Pearson International Airport 
at 9:40 PM, arriving at the gate some six 
minutes later. Having never been outside 
of a tropical climate, Gabriel remembers 
the 5°C weather as the “height of winter.”

"Just before I came up, I was in touch 
with a few friends in Canada. They asked 
me to dress warm. That's it, you know." 
At this point, “I don’t know what on earth 
is ‘dress warm’. In the Caribbean, once 
you wear a long sleeve, you're warm" he 
said, smiling.

After over an hour of processing, the 
seventeen workers were ushered onto a 
yellow school bus “only to find out that 
the bus did not have any heaters 
running.” Leaving only worn vinyl seats 
and the cabin’s exposed metal for 
warmth. Not knowing where they were 
headed or how long the journey would 
be, "we were all loud and full of com-
ments, complaints and surprises. But it 
was a long day and a long ride,” so as the 
bus made its way west onto Highway 401 
off the 401 Express “we tried to get some 
sleep and keep ourselves warm.” 

Every so often, the driver would move 
onto the “sleep awakening portion” of the 
road as they drove through southern 
Ontario on Highways 8, 7 and 2 and 
“everyone instantly would burst the 
silence with a comment that the driver is 
sleepy.” 

Four hours later, the bus arrived at a farm 
just outside of a municipality of fewer 
than 28,000 people. By then, it was -7ºC 
and snowing. Attached to a 54-acre 
greenhouse was a packhouse which 
connected to one of two bunkhouses on 
the property. Donning his long sleeve, 
Gabriel entered. It was empty, its HVAC 
off—the ideal ending to a 3:00 AM 
greeter-less arrival. When rectified later 
that morning, they realized the correct 
bunkhouse was some 500m away. No one 
was around to tell them.

The second bunkhouse was detached 
from the larger structure and housed 
about sixty-two workers, including 
Kolocheto, who first arrived a few years 
earlier. Underequipped and with eight to 
each room – except for a converted 
nightwatchman room with six – things 
like cooking were “survival of the 
fittest.” “According to the contract," 
these accommodations are free. In 
practice, this money is recouped through 
pay deductions for "support or some kind 
of strange name” Gabriel does not recall.

Kolocheto showed Gabriel his assigned 
room before going to his own to get a 
winter jackets. “He placed it at the 
bottom of the bunk bed, and he tells me 
that's your bed," Gabriel said, mirroring 
the moment by slapping his hand on the 
table. "To be honest, that was so powerful 
to me."

“I ended up spending four years in the 
program, and I ended up spending four 
years on that same bed that [Kolocheto] 
reserved for me," he said, shaking his 
head with a smile. 

(January 20, 2022 / 08:53:06)

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Temporary foreign workers face numer-
ous challenges, especially when isolated 
in rural communities where life revolves 
solely around the farm. Pay discrimina-
tion, inadequate health services, substan-
dard housing, and pay deductions for 
benefits they have little or no access to 
plague the experience. Companies can 
request temporary foreign workers for 
roles when qualified Canadians or 
permanent residents are not available. 
However, requests are not made for 
positions with benefits like overtime and 
paid vacation. "The programme is 
designed that once you engage in primary 
agriculture, you do not get" anywhere 
near the benefits given to Canadian 
workers. There is a distinction made 
between Gabriel and those “on the same 
compound” doing Sunset® brand final 
packaging and distribution processes. 
One demarcated by physical separation.

“There are three qualities that Canada 
wants” in its temporary foreign workers. 
“People of colour, [those who] are 
illiterate, (or English is a second 
language), and/or [those who] are igno-
rant” to labour and human rights issues. 
During the three years Gabriel spent at 
Castries Comprehensive Secondary 
School, he studied the dark pages of 
history but was confident those histories 
remained in the past. Yet, "at the lowest 
point in my life," it became clear that the 
“dark pages that Canada helped me to 
study are alive and well in Canada.” 

Gabriel explained that this was not 
something he could let go by easily. "I 
rather see somebody with a smile on their 
face than somebody who is in fear," and 
Canada welcomes migrant workers into 
"a climate of fear." When combined with 
a Canadian "culture of silence," this 
keeps workers compliant. Living on the 
farm, "you do not see us; we are invisi-
ble,” Gabriel said. “Our employer 
controls the travel agency that books our 
flight in and out of Canada. So, the 
moment you speak up, the farmer can 
send you back.” 

Gabriel has since become an advocate for 
those who remain in the programme.

“What is the recipe to exploit somebody? 
Ignorance and poverty,” Allahdua said, 
answering his question. "The program 
keeps us poor by paying minimum 
wage,” while immigration status yields 
barriers to essential services like educa-
tion, keeping workers ignorant.

To Gabriel and others, it is clear that if 
the Canadian system had its way, tempo-
rary workers and the injustice hidden in 
the SAWPs policies, would be swept 
“under the cover of darkness.” Out of 
sight and mind. Meanwhile western 
systems continue to stifle the region’s 
ability to make and sustain its versions of 
“green gold” leading to a cyclical affect. 
Ultimately, the resiliency required to 
“resist these foreign powers comes with 
some element of education, some element 
of creativity and a desire for something 
better.” 

(January 20, 2022 / 08:53:06)

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