Tracing Narratives: the Mauritian-Chagossian Sovereignty Dispute

In a treaty for Mauritius to gain independence
from the United Kingdom in 1968, the island was to relinquish one of its own, the Chagos Archipelago. From then on, Chagossians were evicted from their homes to make space for the United States Navy. Now known as the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT), the complex politics that it carries is a neo- colonial marker in Mauritian history – an imperial move that has only recently been acknowledged by the United Nations and the World Court as unlawful.

In attempting to decentralize western narratives, this project is a call to action for international territories to recognize pan-African and post- colonial issues. Still, in doing that, it also questions who has the right to access research. And not only is the thesis a field guide to the multiple hurdles of the undertaking research; the existing colonial dispositions towards post-colonial systems, and questioning of gatekeeping history, but also a personal journal and critique of what it is truly like to be treated as an alien in a supposed culturally intimate space.

This thesis (ongoing project), entitled “TRACING NARRATIVES: THE MAURITIAN-CHAGOSSIAN SOVEREIGNTY DISPUTE” culminated in a field guide and performance and installation on May 11 2022, aiming to enact an audio-visual commentary and satire out of my own experience in not having access to rightful “public” information whilst the American Navy relishes beer, fantasy, and coconut within an unlawfully-occupied territory.

In aiming to give voice to Chagossian delegates, I had the priviledge to conduct interviews with Olivier Bancoult, the delegate of the Chagos Refugees Group (CRG) in Mauritius. 



Rita Élysée Bancoult, Olivier Bancoult’s mother, with activists Charlesia Alexis and Lisette Talate, founded the CRG in 1982. Their office and place of congregation is located in Pointe aux Sables, around 20 minutes away from the capital, Port Louis. The architecture is suburban and typical of Mauritian homes: orthogonal in shape and 1-2 story high. As a private property, only authorised people are allowed on-site - I scheduled a first meeting on the 28th of December 2021 to gain more contextual insight on the CRG, and start developing a connection with the personel on-site.

A Friend
Simultaneously, I had contacted another refugee group that I had come across while searching for non-Wikipedia answers. The Instagram group, Chagossians of Manchester, was seemingly managed by a millennial, I thought. And right I was, as a friendship flourished with the founder, Audrey Albert, a Mauritian and Chagossian descendant based in Manchester, U.K.

Audrey told me about her family history, and how little even she was taught about her own people at school. Her story reminded me of my own education back in Mauritius - in primary and secondary school, we were not taught about the Chagossian history, just vaguely on the Mauritian sovereignty, which included the Chagos Archipelago. For more context, outer islands that belong to Mauritian sovereignty consist of Rodrigues, Agaléga, Tromelin, and Saint Brandon.

Audrey’s maternal grandmother was born and raised in Diego Garcia, the biggest island of the archipelago. Her grandfather is Mauritian, but grew up on Peros Banhos, also part of the archipelago. I was finally able to meet them in Mauritius in January, and speaking to them was refreshing, yet with amertume, given that Audrey was not able to make it back home to Mauritius. 

Philline, 82 lives with her husband Seellal, 90 in Cassis, close to the capital, Port Louis. As mentioned above, Philline was born in Diego Garcia, and her memories from home date back to her early childhood. With her family, they were deported back to Mauritius in 1976.

Their story is referred to in our co-authored text published by The Funambulist Magazine in the Fall of 2021 for their Issue #38: Music and the Revolution.

As stated through the field guide, the research I conducted on site, at home, was not easy. The road blocks I have faced just proved to me that even as a Mauritian, I was still not privileged enough to gain access to suppos- edly “public” information (at the National Archives, for example).

I had to, at some point, resort to niche web- sites, and Google Maps Reviews. The absurdity and irony of having found information and stories from those made it into an installation and short film, presenting the personal struggle of having to resort to non-academic resources to meet ends. Although I was not allowed on the land, I have, in fact found Diego Garcia. Despite being satirical, this exposé of findings aims to prove the insanity of unlawfully occupied lands - while the Navy are enjoying their time on the Chagossian beaches, Chagossian lives are at stake in territories they were forced to live.

The intentionality with this installation was to provoke, which culminated in a performance. The performance was a self-critique: a commentary on my colonised self. As I am making a cocktail, named Diego Gar- cia by Navy men, I am also walled-in by an interpretation of “Diego Garcia,” having found pieces and traces of evidence and narratives to what it is like to live in Diego Garcia. This interpretation of Diego Garcia, and life of the Navy men there, are project- ed onto the back screen, and two opposing screens inside of the room (refer to pictures). 

Projected is the short film collaging voice actors interpretating Google Map reviews of various Diego Garcia establishments such as restaurants or bars. The voice-over from the film and projection were inspired by my Area Head, Krzysztof Wodiczko’s Portrait (2021) 4K Projection Exhibited at the Harvard Art Museum. Although none of us could legally live there, this performance and installation attempted to give a peak of life as a Navy, but amongst the beauty and colours of the installation, also bring the audience back to the reality of it all: we are priviledged to be sitting, experiencing such a performance, but what about the people at stake?

It Takes a Village

In the summer of 2021, 30 Boston Public School students, mostly Black, Latinx, and Asian American, participated in a four-week studio workshop to learn about housing, urban planning, and architectural design. The prompt of the studio was to imagine and create spaces for a hypothetical urban community, of which they each would be a member. With no prior formal design education, students were challenged to confront the housing inequities in the city of Boston. First through speech, and later by physical manifestation, the con- versation centered on what space is in a city, how it is divided and distributed among society, and on how to make cities equitable and affordable.

These trends parallel a highly exclusive process of creating spaces in America that actively racially segregate and economically stratify our cities. In the design professions, including the architecture, engineering, and construction (A/E/C) industry, less than 2% of licensed architects identify as Black and less than 3% identify as Hispanic. In construction management, less than 11% of executive managers are nonwhite, with less than 6% of these roles filled by women.

To broaden the visibility and access to these professions, It Takes a Village was organized by Digital Ready, the Boston Society for Architecture, and the Office of Collaborative Design. This studio was made possible through a unique convergence of an educational non-for-profit, a professional organization, a design collective, and a trade union apprenticeship organization, and funded in part by the Boston Private Industry Council and numerous Boston-area architecture firms. 

Unitary Spaces