An island of coconut and palm trees,
Now just high rises and slums we see,
Our farms and fields turned into concrete jungles,
Grand bungalows with gardens into buildings or malls,
Our villages and crosses being broken for broad roads,
Our homes, our way of life, all lost to build more,
Peaceful Island-life lost to a city so crowded and huge,
Our native place vanished, no longer of use.
So few remember the times of the past
What was, cannot be brought back; Alas!
development is good, but at what cost?
We have no more a land to call ours…
The island, the fields, the carriages and carts,
all gone to their graves in this city so vast.
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Although Sarah has worked in travel for 15 years and specializes in Africa, she loves music, wine, food, and travel. Armed with her camera, she’s on a mission to photograph old memories and tell stories showcasing her East Indian community and her love for travel and culture.
