Rhode Island: An Oxymoron, a Paradox
By Syed Arif Hussaini
Directly on arrival, a foreign traveler to Rhode Island finds himself witnessing an almost perfect illustration of an oxymoron. For, Rhode Island has nothing whatsoever to do with the famous Rhodes scholarships; nor, the tiny state is an island though bulk of its shores are washed by the waters of the Atlantic Ocean giving it the popular name of ‘Ocean State’.
It is like a small rectangular piece of brick that a mason found left over after he had completed his structure. Instead of letting it lie around and go to waste, he fitted it neatly into a niche between Connecticut and Massachusetts.
Smallest of the fifty states (1231 sq miles) five hundred Rhode Islands could easily fit inside Alaska, over 200 in Texas. Why it was not called something like Teeniveenicut to rhyme with the names of its neighbors, historians are unable to answer, although there was no dearth of the tongue-twisting Red Indian names. Take for instance the names of the rivers that flow through the state into the Narragansett Bay: Pettaquaniscutt, Potowomet, Pawtucket, Pawtuxet, Pawcutuck, Chepachet, and Moshassuck.
To impress a foreign visitor with his knowledge of local geography, a Rhode Islander uttered in quick succession the names of these rivers. The bewildered foreigner asked: “Can’t you speak English?”
Incidentally, the Rhodes scholarships were set up under the will of Cecil Rhodes, a British statesman and financier and a founder of the famous De Beers Mining Co of South Africa. He never set foot on Rhode Island.
Historians are generally agreed that an Italian explorer and navigator, Giovanni, called it by its present name comparing its beauty and charm to the Rhodes Island in the Aegean Sea off the Southwestern coast of Turkey.
Considering its diminutive size and a population of not much above a million, one is tempted to ask if there really was a need for a separate state of Rhode Island? Why was it not grabbed by one of its neighboring states? The answer is simple: to show what America is all about. (Didn’t India show what it is all about -heads I win, tails you lose-when it grabbed both Hyderabad and Kashmir.)
The statue of ‘Independent Man’ on the top of the marble dome of the Capitol building in Providence symbolizes the spirit of independence of the original settlers and the respect for it by the colonists of adjoining territories. The Rhode Islanders were the first among the original thirteen colonies to declare independence from England, but significantly they were the last to join the union. They did that only after the bill of rights was assured to be incorporated into the US constitution.
Horror writer, H.P. Lovecraft, was not far wrong when he described Rhode Island as “that universal haven of the odd, the free and the dissenting.”
The first permanent settlement in the territory took place in 1636 at Providence, the capital of the state, under the leadership of an English clergyman, Roger Williams. These settlers had migrated to North America to avoid persecution by the Church of England for non-conformity and to seek freedom of worship. Williams named his settlement Providence, claiming that it was God’s providence that had guided them through the wilderness. That spirit of religious tolerance still permeates the inhabitants of the state and has had salutary effects in other parts of the country.
These deep commitments to independence and religious tolerance provide the raison d’être of this tiny but vigorous, throbbing, thriving state.
On the lighter side of life in Rhode Island, a foreign visitor notices numerous things. The diminutive size of the state has conditioned the people in many ways. There is no part of the state that cannot be reached in less than half an hour from Providence. A 25-minute commute to work is considered a torture, unless you want to be as far away as possible from your boss to hide something from that martinet.
The distance phobia may be gauged from the fact that if a person has to drive half an hour to attend an evening function, he usually books a room in a motel there for the night instead of spending another half an hour on drive back the same evening. That is regarded as the normal thing to do.
The state has produced no marathon champion. You can’t have a long enough track for anyone to train on it. Understandably, the most popular game is racquetball.
If you leave your house at 11.45 am, you will make it to the noon flight. At the Providence airport, you have to step on to the tarmac and whistle for the airplane. Forget long distance travel by bus; they don’t serve as many packets of peanuts as they do on planes. And, you can have several sodas of your choice; you may even get drunk on coke.
No matter in which direction you drive, you see a Dunkin Donuts shop every four-five minutes. You don’t have to ask anyone what the police have (gratis?) for their breakfast.
Rhode Island has been a kaleidoscope, a melting pot, and a laboratory of various European cultures. An outcome of this cross-fertilization is a language spoken with a peculiar accent. Rhode Islanders (Pronounced: Roe Dyelindas) assert their tongue to be English. They pronounce ‘lore’ as ‘law’, and ‘law’ as ‘lore’, ‘pocket’ as ‘parkit’, ‘part’ as ‘pot’. “Till death do us pot!” -no wonder marriages in the state excel in harmony. In Hollywood, the vow is taken to mean “Till death do us party” with a new partner each time; naturally that gives an average of 25 partners and three marriages.
In an ice cream parlor in Providence, I asked for sugar-free ice-cream. The girl called the lady scooping up the required stuff: “Kawell (Carrol), one shugay fee (sugar free) cope (cup).heya (here).”
Twenty miles south of Providence, almost at the southern tip of the state, is Newport, long famous as a summer resort for the super-rich and known now as the sailing capital of the world and an important naval base. Pleasure boats and million-dollar yachts jostle one another in the same harbor where merchant ships once moved rum, molasses and slaves.
Newport still houses the well-kept and majestic mansions of 19th century industrial tycoons. The wedding reception of Jacqueline and John F. Kennedy was held in one such mansion. The grandest of them all is called ‘The Beakers’. It was built in 1895 by a shipping magnate and boasts 70 rooms. Another mansion ‘Marble House’ built by the brother of the magnate, contains 500,000 cubic feet of marble walls and columns. There are dozens of these mansions which, to my mind, reflect the indigestion of wealth of the filthy rich of a bygone era.
I couldn’t help wondering why a port town that has a history of over a century is named Newport. Where is the Oldport then?
As for the eccentricities of the owners, second or third generation perhaps, let me just quote from Ann Heinrich’s book on Rhode Island. “The story is told that Oliver Hazard Belmont, a bachelor who loved horses, kept several of them in his marble-floored Belcourt Castle -until he married. Then his wife insisted that the horses must go.” And they did. Had Benazir done the same, and thrown out the polo ponies (preferably the baby along with the bath water), she wouldn’t have suffered the humiliation she did!
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