06/11/2024
St. Maarten/Saint Martin has lost a national treasure: Lady Ruby Bute
A child of the Caribbean diaspora, renown St. Martin painter Ruby Bute (81) was born in Aruba. In 1976, at the age of 32, Bute travelled to St. Martin. At the time the population on the French side numbered less than ten thousand, there were few cars and the currency was Dollars, Guilders and Francs. The family house stood at the edge of “the little rainforest” that stretched from Colombier to Friar’s Bay, where her father’s cows roamed the hills. A pristine environment, very different from what the area looks like today, said Ruby Bute. And also very different from Aruba where she grew up.
“M’a nase na Aruba (I was born in Aruba). The local dialect Papiamento – with o - is different from Papiamentu – with u - on Curaçao and Bonaire; Aruba lies close to Venezuela and the Arubans, descendants of Arawak Indians, have close ties with Venezuela and speak a Papiamento that sounds more like Spanish.
I grew up in San Nicolas, where mostly dark-skinned people lived. Chocolate city, it was called in the days. People in San Nicolas came from Grenada, St. Vincent, Trinidad and all the neighboring islands. Their dialects were distinctly different, a Caribbean English.
I was born in St. Martin street in San Nicolas. I grew up in The Village, a section where the oil workers were housed. The Lago refinery was close by. My father was an oil worker.
The Village was a colorful and very lively place. If you were looking for Caribbean culture, you would find it all there. Resilient, very resilient and independent people we are.
The village was the home of many characters: hardworking families, teachers, preachers and also the fallen ones from society. In the midst of the social pressures we had a great brotherhood.
San Nicolas had something for everyone. There was a jewelry repair shop, we had Jan the shoe maker and in another section there was Sam the shoe maker. In the afternoon vendors came out to sell homemade candies, peanuts etcetera. The elders stayed home and looked after the children.
In The Village we had our own banking system. ‘Partner hand’ it was called. We would come together with a group and each person would give for instance 200 guilders. One main person would collect the total amount. Each month another recipient would take home the total sum.
If you ran into bad luck, or you had some kind of ailment, there was a ritual for everything. We had many bush doctors there. I never took part; they were mostly swindlers. They said they knew this and they knew that, and some foolish people would give them their money.
In the evening people used to line up at Felipe’s shack for S**o Felipe, a paper bag filled with a hot Johnny cake, chicken leg, fried potatoes. To enjoy that snack one was obliged to come to The Village!
Let’s not forget we also had our own bakers. The bakers would heat up the ovens around five o’clock in the afternoon. The smell of those rolls and the Tee Tee Bread, oh my Lord! The aroma drifted through the streets. Those were good times.
People talk a lot about culture. But I lived it, I’ve been there. And I have seen some good comedy and drama. My hometown was like a theater; all that is shown on Broadway, was played out in The Village. Life in The Village was well-lived.
We also had our own social clubs. That was so beautiful! In San Nicolas alone we had Seamen’s Club, St. Martin Club, Surinam Club, Club Bonaireano and the Orchidea Club. Everybody had their little district social clubs.
There was quite clearly somewhat a racial difference between the native and the Caribbean immigrants. But we all maintained a peaceful living there. We shared our knowledge and stories about our culture and our outlook to the future. Unforgettable stories of times gone by.”
