the day is still celebrated, with a wild mix of steel-bands and shamrocks. That is as much authentico as rolling out a Samba School in Dublin. The weirdest aspect of this history is that the Irish accent has been retained while the redlegs have been absorbed by generations of miscegenation <huzzah> so that the locals have been known as the Black Irish, although you may be sure to be sure that designation is streng verboten nowadays.
When I saw the map, I noticed the red dotted line and "Exclusion Zone" I assumed that the Southern half of the island was used as a artillery testing zone like Cape Wrath and chunks of Northern Dartmoor in the UK. But it is not military but natural explosives that people are being protected from. In July 1995, the long dormant volcano in the Soufriere Hills started rumbling and dumped 12 m of mud into the island's capital Plymouth [crappy movie]. It's still rumbling on with periodic drama as everything that volcanoes are capable of is thrown out - ash venting <coff coff>; pyroclastic flow; the more dramatic pyroclastic surge that can travel up hill; vulcanian explosions >!BOOM!<. Nobody died when Soufriere surprised everyone: it wasn't catastrophically abrupt like Pompeii. But half the island lost their homes, plantations and farms, and their jobs. More than half of them, given rights of settlement in the UK, chose to leave for the cold islands of the coast of Europe, where they presumably experienced both "no Irish Need apply" when they spoke on the telephone and the usual cold-shoulder when their black faces appeared in person. But enough of that negativity, today everyone is having a party back home in Montserrat.