The Tribune

THE desire to create greater visitor experiences and boost the local economy by opening new entrepreneurial opportunities is a worthy goal and has its rightful place in the planning and zoning of islands like New Providence that welcome millions of cruise and stayover guests a year. But that rightful place is not Montagu Beach.

The 1200-foot long stretch of sand and beach, playground and green space enjoyed by Bahamians and visitors every day, numbers that swell to hundreds on weekends and holidays, must be respected as a park and public beach and not subjected to crass commercialisation.

Neighbours in Free Town have every right to complain when the quiet lifestyle they bought into as Bahamians in a middle class Bahamian neighbourhood turns into a setting with a frenzy of loud music and wild partying with loud speaker volume that must send shudders down the spine of hearing specialists. Their concern is with events. Our concern goes deeper and extends to the overall, long-term vision for Montagu.

There are places in our nation that must be respected and reserved for the breathing room they offer. In a densely populated city like Nassau with its overcrowded, hot inner city, open spaces that give the people a place to breathe are even more important. They allow us to be us. They are a place where families can enjoy each other, where children can run free, where all of us can enjoy the wind in our hair, the sun on our face, the warmth of the water in one of the last few public beaches on the island. In a nation where there is too much violence, it is a space of peace.

The long-serving mayor of Charleston, South Carolina, Joe O’Reilly, recognized this. Often asked why he repeatedly and steadfastly refused to sell the most valuable piece of land in the city despite outrageous offers and instead used it as a massive open park with a circular fountain children could play in and run through, he said, “Because the people need a place to dream.”

There are many places where conch stands and pop up souvenir shops can operate and sell goods. But there are only a few places where the Bahamian people can breathe and dream and Montagu is that last one of those in the eastern district, easily accessible from Fox Hill, Seabreeze, Free Town, Pinedale and other areas of the city, a cool retreat and respite from the suffocating sweltering summer sun.

Montagu did not always offer the beauty and tranquility it does now.

In the first decade of this century, Montagu ramp as it was known then was crowded with boats, trailers and stands of fishermen selling conch, crawfish (in season) and fish. There was no fresh running water. Flies covered freshly caught fish and conch shells lying in heaps. The smell was nauseating and those who braved the smell and the sights to buy fish had to tolerate the dog-eat-dog competition among fishmongers trying to lure customers to their table. Arguments that often escalated to fights among those cleaning the catch or trucks and boats trying to manoeuvre for space on the ramp added to the tension. Sharp fillet knives were never far away. Cuss words flew. Along the street, traffic jams were constant. Every time a trailer tried to cut across East Bay to back up and haul his boat from the crowded ramp, traffic stood still. Horns honked. People shouted. It was all in vain. They could vent all they wanted, but there was no escape.

In about 2010, Loretta Butler-Turner, Member of Parliament for what was then the constituency of Montagu, took it upon herself to resolve the untenable and intolerable situation. She called together a Montagu Redevelopment Steering Committee with local community-minded leaders – Dr Davidson Hepburn, Diane Phillips, Malcolm McKay, Sandra Cooke, Larry Roberts, Larry Phillips and Clay Saunders – and charged them with finding a way to salvage Montagu. The toughest challenge would be what to do in providing for the fishermen to whom Montagu ramp with all its faults, its crowding, unsanitary conditions, nearly impossible juggling of tables and boats and trailers, its hot tempers, was still home. It was the way they made their living and if you counted all the trickle down livelihoods from those who fished to those who sold to those who cleaned to those who delivered ice, there were probably close to 90 or 100 livelihoods at stake.

The committee did a yeoman’s job. For nearly a year, they conducted traffic studies, interviewed fishermen, engaged the services of a coastal engineering company to assess what it would take to save the beach from erosion and accrete sand. They cleaned up the area across the street that behind the low pink wall of the former Montagu Hotel property lay a hidden dump laden with the rotting and rotten trash of decades. They looked at options for possible relocation of fishermen and their stands. They photographed the conditions as they found them and held town hall meetings that attracted standing room only crowds.

In the end, they recommended the expansion of Montagu, the full redevelopment of the park, the relocation of fishermen and their stands slightly to the west on a paved surface with fresh water, the creation of a park with adequate parking, rest rooms, grassy areas, playground and lighting. They had managed to garner most services during the study period for free, including the report from a Florida coastal engineering company that might have cost thousands. Then came the difficult part, finding funding, It was shortly before the 2012 elections and the FNM was eager to show results on several fronts, among them, Montagu.

As it had so many times in the past, Atlantis came to the rescue. The price tag was never made public but is believed to be between $1.6 and $2m,

Putting a price tag on a park is one thing and Atlantis deserves the public’s thanks. Putting a price tag on a place where the people can breathe and dream is another. Leave Montagu alone or develop it in a way that maximises use of Fort Montagu and leaves the park, green space and beach the natural treasure it is, a peaceful oasis of tranquility and beauty for the Bahamian people.