The Sunday Markets: A Reconstructed African World

In the bustling Sunday markets of English Harbour in Antigua or Bridgetown in Barbados, a remarkable cultural phenomenon unfolded beneath makeshift rain shelters. Enslaved men and women sold vegetables and chickens legally brought from their villages, alongside handmade goods—baskets, clay pots, wooden stools, hammocks, ropes, and calabash bowls. Some items, like nails and objects made of copper or lead, were often stolen from plantation households, frequently through relatives working as domestic servants.

White observers dismissively labeled these vendors as “hucksters,” but their trade was far more than petty commerce. Transactions occurred not just with money but also with alternative currencies: beads, copper wire, and even cowrie shells—traditional West African mediums of exchange. These markets were more than economic spaces; they were sites of cultural preservation and resistance.

The Rise of a Skilled Slave Elite

The markets, along with cooperages and carpentry workshops, fostered a distinct class of enslaved people—more literate, resourceful, and worldly than their counterparts toiling in sugarcane fields. Some plantation owners, recognizing their skills, naively believed these “elite slaves” could serve as intermediaries between themselves and the field laborers. This assumption proved disastrously wrong.

Historical records of slave revolts consistently reveal that these skilled individuals often led uprisings. Though rebellions rarely succeeded—especially on islands like Barbados, where forests had been cleared for sugarcane—they erupted repeatedly. The 1720s and 1730s saw violent revolts in Antigua, while Jamaica experienced major rebellions in the mid-18th century, most notably Tacky’s Rebellion in 1760, which resulted in the deaths of 100 white colonists and 400 enslaved Africans, with over 600 rebels exiled.

Cultural Resistance and the Preservation of African Traditions

Beyond armed rebellion, enslaved people resisted dehumanization by preserving fragments of their African heritage. Plantation owners deliberately mixed enslaved populations from different ethnic, linguistic, and religious backgrounds to prevent solidarity. Yet, against all odds, enslaved communities forged new cultural identities, blending African traditions with Caribbean realities.

Funerals became powerful acts of cultural defiance. Enslaved Africans viewed death not as an end but as a return to their homeland. Observers like Reverend Griffith Hughes in 1730s Jamaica noted the paradoxical mix of solemnity and celebration at slave funerals. Corpses were wrapped in white cloth—a West African mourning color—and buried with provisions for the journey home: cassava bread, roasted poultry, rum, and tobacco. Once the grave was filled, the mood shifted to singing, clapping, and dancing, accompanied by drums and calabash instruments. These rituals were not just acts of remembrance but messages sent home through the dead.

Archaeological finds in Barbados slave cemeteries reveal grave goods—dog teeth, brass wire, beads—confirming that even in material deprivation, enslaved people created art to honor their dead. These artifacts stand as a rebuke to those who dismissed them as mere beasts of burden.

The Economic Engine of Slavery and British Imperial Ambitions

By the mid-18th century, Britain’s wealth was deeply entwined with Caribbean slavery. The 750,000 enslaved people in the region produced sugar, Britain’s most valuable import until 1820. Profits from slavery funded grand estates, institutions like Oxford’s All Souls College (founded by the Codrington family of Barbados and Antigua), and even early banking giants like Barclays and Lloyds.

While some historians debate whether slavery directly fueled the Industrial Revolution, its indirect economic impact was undeniable. The demand for British textiles in Africa, the rum and molasses trade, and the interconnected Atlantic economy all reinforced Britain’s global dominance.

The French Threat and the Coming Storm

Britain’s sugar empire faced a formidable rival: France. By the 1740s, French Caribbean colonies, particularly Saint-Domingue (modern Haiti), were surpassing British sugar production. French traders also undercut British markets by smuggling rum and molasses into North American colonies, diverting profits from Barbados and the Leeward Islands.

British policymakers, including the fiery orator William Pitt, saw France’s expansion as an existential threat. Pitt, a staunch advocate for British imperial ambition, believed the future of Britain’s “empire of liberty” would be decided in the Americas. His fears were echoed by figures like Benjamin Franklin, who warned that British America’s growing population needed room to expand—or risk suffocation.

The Legacy of Resistance

The Sunday markets, the skilled slave artisans, and the rebellions they led were more than historical footnotes. They were acts of defiance that shaped the Caribbean’s cultural and political landscape. The fusion of African and Caribbean traditions birthed new religions, music, and art forms that endure today.

Economically, slavery’s profits built empires, but its moral contradictions sowed the seeds of abolition. Politically, the struggles between Britain and France over Caribbean dominance foreshadowed larger global conflicts, including the Seven Years’ War.

Most importantly, the resilience of enslaved Africans—whether through market trade, cultural preservation, or armed revolt—proved that even in chains, they were architects of their own destiny. Their legacy is not one of passive victimhood but of relentless resistance, a testament to the unbreakable human spirit.