By Marlon Bute
I have written before about growing up in Lowmans Hill and a place we simply called Overyonder; a patch of flat land surrounded by mango and plum rose trees and embraced by hillsides cultivated with eddoes, sweet potatoes, corn, cabbage, sweet peppers and every manner of ground provision. That patch of land was more than our cricket pitch. It represented the grace, and beauty and strength and importance of community.
On weekends, the elders of the village gathered there to play cricket. They took the game seriously, dressing immaculately in white as though they were walking onto the Arnos Vale Playing Field. Nearby, the women prepared pots of pelau with pigeon peas cooked in coconut milk, chicken backs, and wings, while the children claimed the best seats atop the boulders scattered around the field or perched themselves in the nearby branches of mango trees and plum rose trees. It was more than a cricket match. It was a community gathering; a weekly reaffirmation that we belonged to one another.
Lowmans Hill was special, but it was by no means unique. Across St. Vincent and the Grenadines (SVG), there were village playing fields alive with organized cricket and football. Every community had youth clubs, sporting organisations, environmental groups, cultural associations, and educational societies. There was always something to do, somewhere to belong and someone willing to guide the next generation.
Among the institutions that helped knit those efforts together was the National Youth Council (NYC), an umbrella organisation for youth groups throughout the country. I still remember listening to the NYC’s Saturday morning programme on NBC Radio during the early 1980s. It reflected a society that regarded organised youth development not as an afterthought, but as an investment in the nation’s future.
The rhythm of village life extended well beyond recreation. Every backyard produced something. Vegetable gardens yielded carrots, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and herbs. Chicken coops housed broilers and layers. Pens had goats, sheep, or pigs. At Christmas, neighbours exchanged eggs, fruit, and meat; not because anyone expected repayment, but because sharing was simply part of who we were.
Beyond the backyard, agriculture was the economic heartbeat of many rural communities. Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, farming provided employment for thousands of Vincentians and created real wealth for families across the agricultural belts of SVG. Entire households depended upon bananas, arrowroot, root crops, vegetables, and livestock for their livelihood. Agriculture sustained families, supported village businesses, and gave young people a reason to remain in the countryside.
Today, that picture has changed dramatically. Domestic agricultural production has declined, and we now import much of what we consume, including carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers, sweet peppers, and lettuce; produce that reaches maturity in a matter of weeks under our tropical conditions. That should concern us. A country blessed with fertile soils, abundant rainfall and a favourable climate should be striving for greater food security, not increasing dependence on imported produce that we have every capacity to grow ourselves.
Looking back, one realises that those gardens produced far more than food, those playing fields more than cricketers and those youth groups more than activities. Together, they cultivated discipline, responsibility, friendship, mentorship, and a profound sense of belonging. They gave young people purpose, adults who knew their names and communities that quietly watched over one another.
Today, of course, we live in a remarkably different world. Smartphones, the internet, and artificial intelligence have placed an unprecedented wealth of knowledge within reach of every young Vincentian. A child in Sandy Bay or Bequia can now learn coding, graphic design, agriculture, marketing, or any other skill from a mobile phone. Technology has become one of the greatest educational and economic tools ever created.
Yet we must be careful not to mistake technology for community. Phones and the internet cannot become alternatives to active participation in youth clubs, sporting organisations, churches, debating societies, environmental groups and other community institutions that shape character and build lasting relationships. Rather, technology should be used to strengthen those institutions by helping young people access ideas, information and opportunities that can improve both themselves and their communities. At a time when outside influences increasingly compete for the attention and values of our young people, authentic community engagement has become more important, not less.
There is another reason Overyonder is still vivid in my memory.
It is no longer there.
Around 2006 or 2007, it became the subject of a groundbreaking ceremony amid promises that the area would be modernised and developed into a proper playing field. Like many villagers, I welcomed the proposal. There is nothing wrong with improving recreational facilities for our young people. But the promised playing field never materialised. Instead, the area lay idle for years, overtaken by weeds and neglect. I now understand that houses occupy portions of what was once the field where generations gathered to play cricket, among them, my 85-year-old father, who played there as a young boy. I was not much of a cricketer, but I also played cricket there with other young people from the village. We grew great bonds there that remain today.
To me, Overyonder has become symbolic of a much larger story.
Development is not measured by groundbreaking ceremonies, colourful renderings, or ambitious announcements. It is measured by what is completed, what endures and what genuinely improves people’s lives. When communities lose places where children play, neighbours gather and young people discover healthy outlets for their energy, they lose more than land. They lose part of the social fabric that quietly holds a society together.
Much of that social architecture began disappearing during the early 2000s. Playing fields became quieter. Youth organisations faded. Backyard agriculture declined. The informal networks that once connected neighbours weakened. Communities that had once been vibrant gradually became more isolated, and many of the institutions that had quietly occupied young minds and strengthened families were simply no longer there.
Today, SVG continues to find itself with one of the highest murder rates in the world. A few years back, five men on a block were gunned down; nights ago, July 19, three men died in a hail of gunfire a few hundred feet from the Central Police Station. The station, which had been in a deplorable condition for many years, after years of neglect, just started getting a much-needed facelift. SVG’s high murder rate is a distinction no nation should wear. And the new national security minister, who is also deputy prime minister, is leading his prime minister’s and government’s commitment to make SVG a safer place.
Many will ask, how did we get here?
It is a legitimate question, but it is no longer the most important one.
The more urgent question is this: “How do we rebuild the country we once were?”
Ironically, the answers may well lie in the very circumstances that brought us to this point. If we honestly identify what has been lost over the past twenty-five years, we may also discover what must be rebuilt.
I believe that if we are to reverse that legacy bequeathed to us by the ULP regime, we must be deliberate about rebuilding what has been destroyed. Community development cannot be viewed as a luxury or an optional programme to be funded only when resources permit. It must become a central pillar of national development.
That means investing once again in community centres, village sporting associations, youth clubs, cultural organisations, environmental groups, and after-school programmes. It means ensuring that every young Vincentian has access to structured activities that build discipline, teamwork, confidence, leadership, and purpose.
It also means restoring the family as the cornerstone of national development. Public policy should encourage balanced family life, home ownership, backyard agriculture, entrepreneurship, technical and vocational education, savings, investment, and wealth creation. We should once again make self-sufficiency a national goal. Poverty alleviation cannot consist merely of social assistance. It must create genuine pathways to economic independence, dignity, and opportunity.
Crime is not simply a policing problem. By the time the police become involved, society has already failed somewhere else. Long-term public safety depends upon strong families, vibrant communities, meaningful opportunities, and young people who believe they have something to lose.
If we are serious about reducing violent crime, then we must be equally serious about expanding economic opportunity. No society has ever policed its way to lasting prosperity or lasting peace. The most enduring reductions in crime occur when people have legitimate reasons to hope, to work, to invest and to build.
That is why poverty alleviation must be rooted in wealth creation rather than dependency. Our aim should not simply be to help people survive, but to empower them to thrive. Every Vincentian should have a realistic opportunity to own land, build a home, set up a business, cultivate a farm, or master a trade. A society that creates owners will always be stronger than one that merely creates recipients.
That principle should also guide our approach to land ownership. Across SVG, there are families who have occupied land for many years without formal title. Wherever proper and consistent with the law, government should pursue fair and transparent programmes that allow long-term occupiers to regularise ownership. Formal title transforms land from simply a place to live into an economic asset. It enables families to access financing, improve their homes, invest in agriculture or small businesses, and create generational wealth that can be passed on to their children. Bringing more Vincentians into the formal property-owning economy is not merely good social policy; it is sound economic policy.
Agriculture must once again become a pillar of our national development strategy. We have fertile soils, abundant rainfall, and a climate that many countries envy, yet we continue to import increasing quantities of produce that can be grown here within weeks. Revitalising agriculture would strengthen food security, generate employment, stimulate rural economies, and restore dignity to productive work. Every acre returned to cultivation is an investment not only in our economy, but also in our social stability. Every young person who finds opportunity in farming, agro-processing or agricultural entrepreneurship is one fewer young person left vulnerable to the lure of crime.
We must also have an honest national conversation about access to opportunity. In a country as small as SVG, it is reasonable to ask whether our land policies are producing the broad-based economic participation our nation requires. Too many aspiring farmers, young entrepreneurs and young families struggle to gain access to productive land while significant acreage is still concentrated in a few hands. The allocation or sale of lands, too often, under the ULP regime, bear the stench of state-sanctioned corruption.
This is not an argument against legitimate property rights or private success. It is an argument for ensuring that more Vincentians have a genuine opportunity to own, produce, invest, and create wealth. Equally, we must insist that land transactions are conducted ethically and that anyone, whether a public official or private citizen, who buys land through fraud or deceit faces meaningful consequences. Public confidence depends upon fairness under the law. And charges must be laid for misbehaviour in public office once it amounts to that.
Economic opportunity is itself one of the most effective crime prevention strategies. Every new business set up, every apprenticeship created, every farm returned to production, every home constructed and every young person who secures meaningful employment strengthens the nation. Economic policy and public safety are not separate conversations. They are two sides of the same national challenge.
None of this diminishes the importance of law enforcement. On the contrary, we must continue investing in the Royal St. Vincent and the Grenadines Police Force. Our officers deserve modern equipment, advanced technology, forensic resources, enhanced intelligence capabilities, and continuous professional training. We should also review salaries, career progression, and working conditions so that policing attracts and keeps the absolute best men and women our country has to offer.
Equally important is strengthening community policing. Police officers should not be strangers who appear only after crimes have occurred. They should become familiar and trusted members of the communities they serve. Public confidence encourages cooperation, improves intelligence gathering and helps prevent crime before it happens.
This responsibility does not rest with government alone, but government must lead. It must bring together churches, schools, businesses, sporting organisations, community groups, and citizens around a common national purpose. Community development, youth engagement, strong families, education, agriculture, entrepreneurship, effective policing and expanded economic opportunity are not isolated policies. Together, they form the foundation of a safer, more prosperous nation. In that regard, party politics must not continue to divide people as it began to do in 2001.
The decisions we make over the next few years will determine whether today’s troubling statistics become tomorrow’s destiny or merely a difficult chapter in our history. We can continue responding to the symptoms, or we can confront the underlying causes with the seriousness they deserve.
One day another generation of Vincentian children will gather on a playing field much like Overyonder once was. They will climb trees, cheer their village cricket team, race across open spaces and return home to families with food on the table, meaningful work to do and hope for tomorrow.
If we build that St. Vincent and the Grenadines, our murder rate will not define us.
Our communities will.
That is the country worth rebuilding.
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