Hidden away in the Valencia forest is the most obvious illustration of the war between development and nature. Amidst rocky paths, and towering trees, breadfruits, avocadoes, Vert, Long, Doux Doux and Julie Mango, is scarred mountainsides, brown, jagged rock, violently facing roads, recently widened by quarry activity. Few houses are rooted at the sides of a road so unpolished, a trail of dust is left behind from cars and footsteps.
The eight-mile stretch, dust-covered village of Cumaca is filled with noises from the quarry, from the songbirds flying constantly overhead, and if one listens hard enough at some areas, the slow trickling sound of a weary river. The noises Cumaca has lost is that of a vibrant community, rich in agricultural affinity and religious and cultural customs. While in parts of Cumaca houses still stand a cautious distance from neighbours, in deep Cumaca, an area with a rich cultural heritage, the village is slowly disappearing.
Since October 2013, Valencia native Simone Gill has been the local government representative for Cumaca, and in three years, she has noticed more and more families leave the green sanctuary in the forest because of a sustained lack of development.
The registered voting list for Cumaca shows a population of around 70 people. The reality shows the numbers are much less. On the Thursday which the Sunday Guardian visited, only seven people were seen in the area.
“It’s sad because it was such a strong community,” Gill said.
“It’s understandable though. A lot of people have since moved out and the school has since closed down. There are no amenities and they want better opportunities for their children.
“It’s hard to walk eight miles of very bad road every day. The people who have stayed there, stayed because of love for the area.”
In an interview with the Sunday Guardian last week, Gill said the area was perfect for people looking for adventure or seeking out a community with a rich heritage, but presented challenges for families in need of basic amenities.
“We have oilbirds and the caves, which people brave the bad road conditions to visit, and it’s an area great for research but the road is so bad, how can you ask a tourist to spend hours navigating it?” Gill asked.
Gill has made several attempts to engage the Ministry of Works in road repairs since 2013, but none of her attempts have yielded results.
The few residents in the area feel the Government ignores them because their community is a small one.
As the roads continue to disintegrate, the population deep in Cumaca, where the river is clean and flows powerfully through the forest, decreases.
The population is so small, residents don’t refer to it as a village.
In fact, when the Sunday Guardian team attempted to get directions to the village near the Cumaca Primary School, people along the way expressed confusion.
“It don’t really have no village there,” said one farmer. “The only village is further up,” said another.
When the road ended, only a dirt and grass footpath snaked through the hillside. One resident, Timothy Brathwaite said what was left of the village was a handful of families, some of whom only came on weekends.
Brathwaite is a weekend visitor who owns land in the area and grew up with his aunt in a wooden house in the hillside.
“It’s a whole month I ain’t come up here. I love to come up here every week. I come up, spend a few days, and then go Valencia.
“As I cross 67, I don’t have to worry too much about running around. I go home and spend time with my family then come back up here,” Brathwaithe says.
The pensioner recalled moving to the community when he was 12 years old, and being taken into the dense forest on a Bedford truck owned by the Pamponette family.
“Those days were nice. If the neighbour had bananas, everybody had. In those days people would come up here to buy bananas for six cents a pound,” says Brathwaithe, smiling at the memory.
The roads weren’t much different, Brathwaithe recalled, though he added that they are much better than they were in the past.
The quarries in the area, Harrypersad’s and St Alban’s, routinely patch the roads.
Even so, it’s a stretch to describe the dusty roads as good. Up until the last quarry, St Alban’s, the road is rough but easy to navigate.
St Alban’s quarry was penalized in 2014 for widening the road in the area without permission of the relevant authorities. Villagers see it as a good thing.
“Things have changed, but not a lot,” Brathwaithe says.
When Brathwaithe was first introduced to Cumaca, it was through stories of douens, soucouyants and la diablesse, local folklore which spoke of monsters stealing young children.
Today, he is still wary of douens, but even more dangerous is the snakes in the area.
“My aunt didn’t have any kids so my grandmother sent me up here, but I didn’t like it. When she first sent me from Valencia, I saw how it was and tell my aunt I didn’t want to stay. When I went back my grandmother cut my tail and send me back,” Brathwaithe says.
Today, he hates to leave the idyllic atmosphere.
“Up here, I was afraid to go to school. This jungle was scary. There were girls in the school and they would run for six miles and fast and leave me behind. I was scared and I was small. I would walk a mile, then cross the river twice to reach my estate.
“Today it is nice, I’d take a nice bath and relax. This is the life. Up here nice. It real nice. I pack my goods and stay for a little while and then go back to see my family.”
Brathwaithe is an example of the type of villager easily found in Cumaca, ageing and enjoying retirement.
“It’s an ageing community as well,” Gill says.
“The people who remained are those without children, who are used to life without pipe-born water and electricity.”
There is no cell phone penetration in the forest and communication with the outside community requires an almost two-hour drive, or an even longer walk.
Yet the area is rich in natural treasures, a major river, caves and biodiversity. Iguanas and Maps sit lazily, sunning in the road. Long-ago street signs have fallen on mountainsides, covered in vine and mosss. There is unique fruits and vegetation and a school, long closed with no children to attend.