Mauritius is eastern-influenced melting pot with potential and disparity

I wrote this entry after returning from Honeymoon, but the posting date coincides with when we were actually experiencing what's described here.

I am fairly sure that I made it through my formal education never having heard of Mauritius, much less being able to identify it on a map.

I first encountered it in some history of piracy, no doubt. Its position in the Indian Ocean, between the southern tip of Africa and the Indian sub-continent, made it a perfect place to lay up while stalking trade routes. This is Captain Kidd territory. But it didn't come to prominence in my mind until we started discussing honeymoons. It is surely one of the Top 10 locations for European newlyweds who have the time and money for a long-haul trip.

And for good reason. The island, formed by a long-extinct volcano, has all the attributes of the stereotypical tropical paradise. Powdery white beaches bordered by swaying palms, hibiscus, bouganvilla and other exotic plants form the coastline. A reef rings much of the island, creating shallow lagoons glimmering turquoise and pale blue. Inland, the land rises to a central plateau dominated by sugar cane production, though fields of tea and all sorts of other vegetables intersperse. Like any volcanic territory, the earth is incredibly rich and well-drained; bananas, mangos and pineapple all grow wild by the roadsides to be harvested by locals as needed.

Pinnacles of black stone, their tips eroded into jagged, picturesque shapes, frame the horizon. Occupying the best coastal spots, as with most tropical paradises, are upscale resorts. Fantasies of thatched pavilions and infinity pools, staffed with graceful, smiling natives who provide unparalleled service. I'll get to that in a later entry.

But in this introduction to the island, it's important to say that dream world is just one small part of Mauritius, and not a representative one. We had excellent drivers on our one-hour transfers to and from the airport, and from them we got a good sense of what life is like beyond the resort gates.

The island is a true ethnic melting pot. It was uninhabited when discovered by Europeans, thus today's native population reflects the different peoples who came ... either as slaves, indentured servants or immigrants ... to work the cane fields. The faces are mostly African, Indian, Southeast Asian or a mixture thereof. It's a huge point of pride for the islanders how well everyone gets along. Most villages we drove through had a Catholic church, a mosque and, most impressively, a giddily-decorated, god-encrusted Hindu temple sitting cheek by jowl, and almost everyone will quickly use that as a proof point of community spirit.

Add to that the cultural overlay of colonialism: first Dutch, then French, then English. (Plus those pirates of every nation.) Today this is a part of the British Commonwealth and the official language is English. But, frankly, you'd never know that without a guidebook. In reality it's French that dominates here, and though everyone in the tourist trade pretends to understand your Anglo-Saxon words, a working knowledge of French will prevent a lot of misunderstandings.

This is no Shangri La, however. It's immediately obvious that this isn't a rich country. Once you're off the single main highway that cuts cross-island from southeast to northwest, the roads are winding, narrow and often bumpy. Look to the fields on either side and you'll see natives, many of them old women, hand harvesting with machetes and straw baskets. Villages are a haphazard hotch-potch of mouldering governmental buildings, tiny shops and snack bars, patches of waste land (some strewn with plants, others with rubbish) and brightly painted houses.

Many of these residences look surprisingly big for such humble villages, but this is because the Mauritians tend to live in multi-generational family groups; the average house may have 15 or 20 occupants. At least one of them is probably assigned middle-of-night water duties. Mauritius is suffering a drought, with global warming suspected to have interfered with the once-dependable annual rains. Thus while resorts fill their infinity pools with millions of gallons and sun-worshipping guests take multiple showers a day, the natives are limited to a couple of hours of running water daily, when they need to fill buckets to supply themselves for the other 22. They are philosophical about this, though. The hotels pay plenty for the water, the guests pay the hotels, it all puts money in the economy.

The villages are interesting to drive through, but offer little sightseeing. These are utilitarian places for living and putting food on the table, not Tuscan farm villages converted for picturesque exploring. In fact, you really don't see white (tourist) faces outside of the resorts and the official attractions. Indeed, one of our drivers confided to us that "whites" means rich people in Mauritian creole, even if they're Indian or Chinese. The average salary here is between £200 and £300 a month, roughly the same as most honeymooners are paying for a single night in their luxury suites. I suspect our view ... through a BMW window en route to and from manicured tourist spots ... was a typical tourist one. There's little trickle down effect to the "real" people from tourism, beyond the tips those in the industry take home. (And those, of course, can equal a month's salary in a few good days.)

Unlike many Caribbean islands, however, Mauritius isn't entirely dependent upon tourism. Those cane fields aren't just decorative; this is one of the world's major sugar producers. There's a thriving textile manufacturing industry, and the same geographical placement that made the island a hot spot in the days of sail is starting to come into play again as China and India continue their rise to prosperity. It feels like a place with great potential, yet it also, according to one driver, suffers the usual African problem of corrupt government. The rich and powerful are harnessing the country's resources for their own prosperity rather than for the general advance of the population.

In our limited exposure, we didn't hear or see anything to make that disparity a dangerous one. All the locals we talked to seemed happy, helpful, truly concerned that we were enjoying ourselves and inordinately proud of their homeland. Still, I left with a nagging concern for the future. There's clearly a lot of money pouring into this place, and tomorrow looks set to bring more. If that cascades down to help establish a comfortable middle class, then the potential here seems vast. If, however, all the profits stay in the hands of a few, then I have to believe that someday the Mauritians, despite their abundance of cheerful contentment, may lose patience and demand a bigger slice of the pie.