We did it! Grace Cameron and Nashauna Drummond celebrate the end of their
short-lived cane-cutting career with Alfred Williams, head of extension department of
All Island Cane Farmers Association. - PHOTOS BY CARLINGTON WILMOT/FREELANCE PHOTOGRAPHERTHE GLEANER'S front page story of February 22 reported angry protests from female cane cutters over what they alleged was a disparity in prize money for the annual cane-cutting competition. This evoked much concern from
the public.
Despite the cynicism from some male quarters regarding the equality of the sexes, what men fail to grasp is that women also want equal pay for equal work not just equal opportunities.
So, considering the challenges
of the oft clichéd 'cane piece', I grasped the opportunity to see first hand just what female cane cutters are up against, backs bent, energy spent and sun blazing down on the canefields of our island.
Although we were lost a few times, the team finally arrived at Bernard Lodge Sugar Estate eager to do an hour's work. Just seeing the women in their soot-blackened work clothes was enough to awaken my sympathies. We were handed a machete, file and gloves in a manner that suggested, "just watch these softies coming to do man's work".
The men, especially Swayvan Henry, nicknamed Acid, were only too eager to help us sharpen our tools and as I stared at the three rows of cane, inches high in weeds and ashes, I thought, "yeah right".
NOT CUT OUT FOR THIS
I did not last long. It took only 15 minutes for me to realise that I was not cut out for this job. My intended one-hour journey into the life of a female cane cutter was aborted by a feeling of tightness in the chest region and the kind of light-headedness that suggested intimate contact with my favourite by-product of the cane. So I took what was to be the first of several rest breaks as I felt like my entire body was heading south, starting with my head.
Having only recently embarked
on an exercise plan, I realised the morning's task would not replace the scheduled hour at the gym that day.
It is not easy to wield a machete
as close to the ground as possible, cut cane, separate the body from the leafy top, place cut pieces on a neat pile and throw the trash away. All this while keeping the cut area tidy. Male and female cutters work in pairs and each individual is assigned up to three rows at a time. My
shoulders, arms and back got a work out as perspiration coursed down like much needed rainfall.
SHAMEFUL PAY
This is hard work. It stands to
reason that these women (and men) must earn at least US$25 per hour. The reality is J$145 per ton with incentives ranging between $11.60 and $42.06, depending on how
much grass impedes the task.
They also get time and a half pay
on Saturdays and double time on Sundays. This information made me think, "shame, shame, shame on all who arrive at this salary package."
It was very instructive to learn that supervisors love to work with female cane cutters who do a much neater job. They leave their rows like the homes of meticulous housewives clean as a whistle. I am immediately overwhelmed with pride in these women. I respect their independence but wouldn't it be great if their
situation were such that they need not cut cane to feed their families?
Two rows away, Acid kept things alive with his ribald jokes, liberal use of expletives, the occasional drag on his cigarette and the periodic swallow of an ice-cold beverage he made. He had attempted to boss me around too, shouting, "woman, git up go cut di cane." Instead of being intimidated I got him to help me out.
This activity plus the heat made me thirsty and I begged him for a piece of his ice to stop my tongue from turning into cardboard. It's amazing how strenuous it became just watching others cut cane.
But I picked myself up two more times and added a few more canes to the pile. At the end of the hour I felt more satisfied that I got the point it's hard work and I'd much rather flex my muscles at the keyboard.
Barbara Ellington
