Amongst the creatures upon
this earth the tourist or the holiday maker is the most insidious
colonizer. Some might argue for the ground elder, or the water
hyacinth, or the kudzu vine, or the English, or even perhaps Kapital as a
better hallmark of the word colonizing. The tourist arrives with
hoopla and suitcase, stays briefly and then leaves. Hardly an
example of that permanent settlement Plymouth became.
However, to an indigenous people all tourists and all holiday makers look
alike, which make them a permanent presence.
In some respects the concept of harvest might be applied to the phenomenon
of tourist or holiday maker. And this might be especially apt when a
season is involved. I picture the farmer watching the main road, or
the airport, or the dock relishing the prospect of fat pickings.
However, the tourist or the holiday maker
has a set of demands that require a capital investment far beyond the hand
tools most indigenous people possess. The consequence is a formal
investment by outsiders, which is then managed by outsiders, leaving
indigenous people to change sheets, wash dishes, sweep roads, mow grass,
while those they serve eat drink and splash about in a most unbecoming
Amongst the possibilities, there is
training. A holiday destination does not yet develop its reputation by
allowing surliness, or brigandage, or cannibalism, or adherence to peculiar
religious practice. And always, hungry people will smile for food
before they smile for sewage systems, pension schemes, a just government and
other such shiny things. So to my mind the tourist or the holiday
maker remains a colonist.
It is a movement toward a oneness.
An essence both Marx and Hegel might have recognized. Moses and The Buddha
too for that matter. Harmony was an objective for them, and for my
part I should be viewed with suspicion, because there is a giant mote in my
eye. I don't actually like leaving the plot of land I call home.