It is the war of the flying fish. The protagonists are the Barbadians (Bajans) and Trinidadians (Trinis). Though I was born in Trinidad, I am neutral because my great-grandfather migrated from Barbados.
Barbados (population: 270,000) has an army of perhaps 400 soldiers and hardly a coast guardboat. Trinidad (population: 1.2 million) boasts an army of 800 or so, with two coast guardboats.
Not a tank between them, and no air force if you discount a couple
of helicopters. Just 200-odd cadets, a handful of Baden-Powell Scouts, both sea and land, and a few hundred Brownies each.
They are eyeballing each other over "flying fish", found largely in Barbadian waters and noted for the leaps they make out of the sea, like jumping jacks. The fish is a delicacy with many alleged attributes, most importantly its aphrodisiac qualities. Over time, shoals of flying fish have migrated south and they can now be found in the waters off Trinidad's sister island, Tobago. But Bajan fishermen will follow the flying fish anywhere it goes. As did Joseph Mason and Samuel Firebrace, who were caught by the Trinidad coastguard fishing in Tobagonian waters. They were arrested and charged. Bajan manhood was under challenge. The prime minister, Owen Arthur, slapped sanctions on imports from Trinidad.
Neither side would flinch. "Blow dem out de water," was the popular slogan among Trinis. The Bajans replied: "We go fight, we go fight to the last flying fish."
Owen Arthur summoned his minister of national security to place Bajan forces on the alert - or so the rumour went. A Trini wag tells me that sea Scouts and Girl Guides were scurrying everywhere mobilising scores of pirogues (dugout canoes) for the war effort. Barbados sent a message of support to Britain when it went to war against Hitler: "Go right ahead. Little England [as the island had come to be known] is behind you." That is the sum total of its military tradition. Trinidad has none that I know of. But both flexed their military muscles.
Prime ministers from the other Caribbean islands busied themselves seeking a diplomatic solution. In the end, the fishermen were released when, on the instructions of the Trinidadian PM, the police offered no evidence. Tempers have cooled, the troops have returned to barracks, and Bajan women smile contentedly. But for how long?
