Sun, Sea, Sand, Slavery and Sega: Dancing on the Graves of the Dodos Since 1638

Yeah, that was a hell lot of S. Anyways…

‘What are you?’ followed by a mini awkward silence (for me), to define my approach to the question. Finally, true to the witty and delightful parasite inside me, I went for- Ahemm, I am still classified as human I think. Obviously, laughter ensured before I addressed the underlying question- I am Mauritian and what you just heard was Mauritian Creole. The usual answer ensued- Sounds so poetic (huge inner snort in my mind to that) and so French!

Well, why so (Why French I mean!)?- Mauritian Creole can be thought of as an amalgam of languages. So, let’s stroll down memory lane!

The Mauritian Bouillabaisse- a delightful pot of cultures, languages, and just a dash of simmering identity crises. Being an Indo-Mauritian (by that, I mean myself, my dear Lord) gives you a front-row seat to the Creole conundrum- where history, colonization, and modernity swirl into a complex narrative.

Let’s start with "Creole," a word as versatile as Mauritian cuisine. Officially, it’s a linguistic badge of honour—Mauritian Creole, the language that unites us all- when English, Mandarin, Tamil, Telegu, Urdu, Hindi, French, or Bhojpuri just won’t cut it. But socially? Oh, it’s a minefield of existential crisis. In the Mauritian context (Creole isn’t limited to Mauritius), Creole refers to descendants of slaves, but it also doubles as shorthand for "culturally mixed, undefined, or just Mauritian with a twist."

The closest contemporary here in SA is ‘coloured’. Being ‘Coloured’ in South Africa and ‘Creole’ in Mauritius feels like living at the intersection of two worlds that insist on boxing you in, yet you defy them both. In South Africa, "Coloured" was (and is) an official label originating from the country’s painful past- the elephant in the room, Apartheid. In Mauritius, being Creole carries its own set of cultural weight—linked to resilience and vibrancy, yet often sidelined in a society obsessed with categorization.

Creole and Coloured, the two Cs being an oxymoron of sorts: belonging everywhere yet nowhere, blending seamlessly into the mosaic of both nations while remaining a paradox within themselves.

U-Turn back to Mauritius- none of this cultural fusion happened without the extensive and tragic history of colonization, a brutal tale that would make even the grimmest Netflix drama seem light-hearted. First, the Dutch so casually showed up, deforested the land, and made the Dodo extinct because, apparently, they didn’t get the memo about biodiversity. Then came the French, who turned the island into a sugar plantation ‘paradise’, complete with enslaved labour shipped from Africa—a system so oppressive even Dickens might have deemed it too dark to write about. Enter the British, who abolished slavery (great PR move) but promptly replaced it with indentured labourers from India (my ancestors I might add), setting up a system so exploitative you’d think it came with a colonial user manual- In today’s world, think Bangladeshis. You were informed that you are going to find gold under rocks (literally that was what my ancestors were told!), and well, here came Indiana Jones {on a budget}, only here- the sirdar/overseer had the whip!

Mark Twain once quipped, “Mauritius was made first, and then heaven; and that heaven was copied after Mauritius.” But let’s be real—he wasn’t around to witness the generational trauma left in the wake of colonization.

Colonial, Colonisation, Colonise and so on- What is that umbrella that encompasses all this? Colonisation: the ultimate historical “oops” moment where powerful nations decided, “What if we owned everything?” and then went ahead and did just that. It wasn’t just land-grabbing—it was a full-on buffet of exploitation, with a side of cultural erasure and a heaping dose of superiority complex. European empires treated the globe like it was Monopoly, except instead of houses and hotels, they slapped down plantations, railroads, and trading posts.

Let’s not forget the ‘convenient’ side effects of colonization:

Slavery: “Free labour” is just what you call it when human lives don’t count.

Cultural theft: Art, spices, languages—anything shiny or useful—looted and displayed in museums where we were allowed to marvel at our ancestors' belongings.

Borders: Those neat lines on maps? Drawn by men who’d never visited these places, creating conflicts that still burn centuries later.

Fast forward to today, and colonisation is alive and well—it just got a rebrand. Now it’s called “globalisation.” Tech giants colonize your data (and mind) instead of your land. We have influencers selling us the gospel of overpriced avocado toast. And surprise, now we extend colonisation to even new borders- space anyone? 

Who doesn’t want a Condo on Mars where you sip wine and look at the Earth? NB. Mars' atmosphere is 99.87% carbon dioxide with 0.13% oxygen. Well, hello carbon dioxide narcosis and … death! (Elon Musk apparently plans to make Mars habitable by 2050!). Mars selfies on the way!

Well- We are Terraformers! 

We bow to no one! (Aragorn to Frodo and nowadays, well… basically every ‘motivator’ telling you- you are special, and you can puff cotton candy out of your bum if you really want it.)

Anyways, back to Maurice! For me, an Indo-Mauritian, being Creole in today’s world can mean embracing Mauritian Creole as your lingua franca while dodging the socio-cultural tug-of-war between Indian traditions and the seductive rhythms of Sega music. On one hand, you’ve got Bollywood weddings and samosas; on the other, you’re drawn to the universal chill vibes of "La Plage" culture. Because let's face it- Creole food and its embrace of spices? It’s a siren call. Having a culinary delight of Cochon marron, Ti Vitesse, Boeuf or Salmi cerf (Wild pig, hedgehog, beef and deer in that order) while all the Hindu Gods are looking down at me and shaking their heads in disbelief, well, it is my speciality!

Nowadays, to be "Creole" is less about race and more about attitude—a laid-back, hakuna-matata philosophy in the land of relentless sun, sea, sand and debates about colonial hangovers. It’s a way of saying, “Look, I don’t care where your ancestors were shipped from; let’s just eat dholl puri and dance to sega ‘Caïambo’ by Ti Frère.

NB. Sega has been included in UNESCO's Intangible Cultural Heritage lists. For my dear islanders who despise this musical variety- remember, it is about all our ancestors and their struggles. Sega was the rhythm of resistance, born from the fire of slavery and carried on by the spirit of freedom. Of course, you can always howl on Baby on that little high pitch voice we all love. No offence!

Ah, how can I talk about Mauritius and not mention the Dodo—the world’s most tragic punchline! Imagine being so adorably naive that you don’t realize humans, the ultimate apex predators armed with 100% hunger and zero ethics (as usual), have just crash-landed on your island. And yes, the dodo waddled right up to them like, “Oh, hi! Welcome to Mauritius! Would you like a tour?”

The only tour it got was straight to the cooking pot. And that was the end of the Dodo......

The sheer irony of the dodo’s demise? It didn’t just go extinct—it practically volunteered for it.

Not a predator? Check.

Can’t fly? Check.

Lays only one egg a year? Check.

The dodo was as if nature’s way of saying, “Let’s see how fast humans can mess this up.”

This bird became the ultimate cautionary tale: destroy an entire species, and what do you get? A footnote in history, a mascot for bad decisions, and a spot on a Mauritian beach towel. The dodo isn’t just extinct—it is the poster child for trusting the wrong crowd.

What about Slavery? Oh well, slavery, it’s not just a thing of the past- We’ve upgraded to the digital realm. Enter today’s master: The Algorithm. It doesn’t whip you, but it sure keeps you scrolling. Instead of plantations, we’re confined to tiny screens, endlessly liking, commenting, and doomscrolling through a curated hellscape of influencers, ads, and unrealistic goals.

In the 1800s, people were sold at auctions; now, we willingly sell our privacy for a "free" app. Who needs shackles when you’ve got TikTok challenges? Let’s be honest, our new ‘bosses’ don’t need overseers, they’ve got notifications. That little red dot on your phone? It’s a modern-day overseer yelling, “You’re behind on your digital chores! Post, engage, obey!”

Forget whips, we’ve got streaks to maintain. Think about it: you spend hours curating the perfect post, filtering your face to Barbie-level perfection, only for the algorithm to decide that 12 people should see it. Humiliating, isn’t it? Well, dear netizens, try leaving The Matrix for once.

Dark humour aside, the parallels are unsettling. The chains may be invisible, but they’re real. We measure self-worth in likes and followers, trade our time and attention for fleeting dopamine hits, and work endless hours to buy devices that tether us further. It's not if you're enslaved; it’s how. Slavery used to be imposed—now, it’s opted into.

But let’s be sincere- Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg and etc, they created products. You can use them for your business, your well being or for being a modern slave to ‘The Matrix’- It is ALWAYS your choice. So do not blame it on them.

And well, there is a very simple principle even in Computer Science and IT - GIGO. No, nothing about a Gigolo here. Just GIGO- Garbage In Garbage Out. Well, as Mauritian mums used to bark at us back in the time- ‘Caca dans latet’. Laughs!!! Basically, let me demystify it for you - you're like a prawn: big eyes, tiny brain, and a line of poop running straight through your middle {just the exit point is your mouth}. You can still change the meaning for yourself though- Game-changing In Godlike Out! (Laughs and Smirks!)

Let’s end all this on a positive vibe: Mauritius, Île Maurice- a tiny speck of paradise floating in the Indian Ocean, where sugarcane fields stretch as far as the eye can see, and every beach looks like it’s been pulled straight out of a postcard. This island packs a punch for its size, with cultures mingling like the spices in a good curry all rolled into one delicious roti.

The locals? Warm, welcoming, and always ready to chat (or argue) about which place has the best dholl puri or boulette. Nature’s beauty is abundant, from the turquoise lagoons to the peak of Le Morne and the lush tea plantations at Bois Cheri. And don’t forget the infamous dodo—you’ll see its statue at some point.

Mauritius is proof that good things can come in small packages, especially if you’ve got an appetite for fresh seafood, sunsets and Lambic(rum) that drown all your problems.

Maurice, c’est un plaisir!

I am proud to be Mauritian [might I add - and Creole?]!  (Well, Creole can be ethnic classification if you want to start a fight, or it can be love/acceptance for your own country. Let’s simplify it- I am Creole at heart and Indo-Mauritian by birth!)

How can I not mention our national anthem? Here is how it goes (YouTube videos please to feel the vibes!):

Glory to thee, Motherland

O Motherland of mine.

Sweet is thy beauty,

Sweet is thy fragrance,

Around thee we gather

As one people,

As one nation,

In peace, justice and liberty.

Beloved Country,

May God bless thee

For ever and ever

 

And well, on a very different musical note now…

If you can’t or will not drown your problems… well, my dear Earthling, get ready to rumblllllllllle- Get your fingers on your most prized possession, ‘Like’ as if your life depends on it, scroll down the drama lane, and then ponder why your life feels like the Barnum coprolite!