Dancing with the Dead No.9: ST. VINCENT & THE GRENADINES (1955 – 1962)

In 1955, after the terrible Hurricane Janet had struck and wiped out most of Grenada, our family moved to the island of St. Vincent, where my father was appointed as Crown Attorney and Legal Draftsman, under Chief Minister Ebenezer Joshua. Our family comprised my parents, my brothers Basil and Patrick both born in St. Kitts, and David who had been born in Grenada. I was the eldest and the only girl.

The government house being prepared for us was not yet ready so, for two months, we stayed at a guesthouse. During our stay there, I came down with mumps and had to be quarantined. Alone in my room, I amused myself by making an entire village of paper dolls, along with changes of clothes, all of which I designed and painted with water colours. Schools hadn’t started as yet, as it was still the summer holidays.

Living on Young’s Island

Following my recovery from the mumps, the Government placed us in what used to be the manager’s house at the top of Young’s Island, a tiny island about a half-mile across the channel from the Yacht Club, which was on the mainland. Our private island had a little pier, and every morning the boatman rowed my father across the channel to the mainland. My father had parked his car at the Yacht Club, so he was able to drive off to his chambers at the legal department.

During the holidays, we had a ball, sea bathing every day, rowing to and from the mainland and meeting lots of new friends. Once Basil, Patrick and I started school, the boatman rowed us over every morning and back in the afternoons. We used to rush through our homework and then down the path, leaping off the end of the pier into the warm sea. Every minute was spent swimming, diving, boating, getting cut on the rocks, getting sea egg spines in our feet and getting a bad sun burn! Even when someone spotted a hammerhead shark in the channel, that didn’t stop us from practically living in the sea!

One day, out of sheer wickedness, I threw Basil off the end of the little pier, not bothering to think if he could swim or not. He was so angry, and I could see it on his face even though he was sputtering from having swallowed sea water. As he headed for the shore, I knew I would be in trouble, so I took off up the track to the main house at the top of the rise. I ran to Mammy’s lap and wailed that Basil was troubling me. Just then he flew into the room, dripping wet, his face like thunder. Mammy grounded him! Hehehe!

Six months later, the mainland house was ready for us and we said goodbye to the best time we ever had in our lives. Many years later, Young’s Island became a resort for the rich and famous. It may be out of our price range now, but I for one will never forget that the little island was once our home.

Da Plane! Da Plane!

Since there was no functioning airport, St. Vincent was at the time serviced by a Grumman Goose seaplane that landed in the channel between Young’s Island and the mainland. Whenever the Goose was expected to arrive, a flag would go up at the Yacht Club, and then it was our responsibility to go out to the flagpole on the lawn at Young’s Island and raise the flag there. That was the signal for all boats to clear the channel so that the plane could land safely.

The plane then went up the ramp and let off its passengers and their luggage. All the services of an airport, including immigration and customs, were conducted there.

School Days in St. Vincent

During the summer holidays Daddy had enrolled us in school. Patrick was at the Kingstown Prep School, Basil at the St. Vincent Boys’ Grammar School, and I at the St. Vincent Girls’ High School. All three schools were close to each other. David was still a toddler, so stayed at home with Mammy.

School days were lots o fun, especially as we had not yet moved from Young’s Island, however the Government was preparing another bungalow for the family and this was located right next to the boys’ school, in fact between the school and the Thompson Home, a retirement home for the ‘white-colour’ elderly.

Just before Christmas, we moved from the little island to what was known as “Richmond Hill Bungalow”, a four-bedroom, ranch-style house with a wrap-around verandah. It had a lovely lawn with a bird bath and many mango trees. Daddy and Mammy hired a cook, Amy, and a housemaid, Hilda, who occupied the servants quarters at the rear of the house.

In addition to our school lessons, we took part in all sorts of sporting and musical activities. I played cricket and netball and took part in the walking races in the inter-house sports meet, mainly because I hated running. Miss Buchan, a Scottish lady was our Head Mistress and she taught us the Scottish reel and other square dances. Then I began to notice the boys, just as, I suppose, they were noticing me!

My Third Love

Now a blossoming teenager, I had to pass through the Grammar School compound in order to get to the Girls’ High School. The whistles from the mischievous boys were almost deafening. I blushed and went on my way but found myself drawn to a bespectacled young man whose father owned a local bank. We were ‘in love’; however, at the ripe old age of sixteen, I had never been kissed, nor even dated! I finally lost him to a close friend who was quite willing to ‘go all the way’ with him.

Although by this time experimenting with make-up, I was still a ‘wall-flower’ at the many teenage parties that Basil and I attended. Because of Daddy’s position, the company we found ourselves in comprised the sons and daughters of the St. Vincent elite – the children of professionals, big businesses and owners of vast estates. They were mostly white or clear-skinned and many of them attended school in the UK, returning to the island at the end of the school year with posh English accents. I felt terribly inadequate!

Transporting the Dead

Back in the 1950’s, St. Vincent had no morgue. As a result, and just as in Grenada, when anyone died they had to be buried by the very next day.

Buried Alive!

On reaching sixteen, I took driving lessons and was soon able to ‘borrow’ my father’s car. He didn’t have to worry though, because I never touched alcohol or any drugs that might have been available in those days. To get back to the story, I was scheduled to attend a funeral one afternoon and decided not to attend the church service, but to leave the house early enough so I could go to the gravesite before the mourners arrived en masse.

There, at the Kingstown Cemetery, was a newly dug grave. Feeling pleased with myself, I went as close to the open grave as I dared and waited. A few minutes later the hearse arrived, followed by a lot of cars out of which black-clad passengers emerged. I turned to watch as the pallbearers started up the path. Only thing was, the pallbearers and mourners all passed me by and went further up to another open grave. Woe is me! What an embarrassment! I abandoned my post and rushed forward, pushing my way through the crowd to get to the other grave. Was I at the right funeral?

Suddenly a cry rang out and I was almost thrown to the ground. There was a huge stampede as every last person fled in terror. I couldn’t see or hear what had happened to cause such a reaction, but if everyone was running away, something terrible must have happened. I ran along with the crowd, panting, until I reached the car and quickly drove home.

Next day, our maid Hilda, and cook Amy, told us that the dead person had come alive and had started knocking inside the coffin. In those days, unless a deceased person’s family could afford embalming, the deceased was buried as is, so to speak, with not even an autopsy to ensure he was really dead. Luckily for the person, the coffin had not yet been covered with earth, so he was able to come out of the coffin and walk away in his burial clothes! How many others, I wondered, were not so lucky.

A similar occurrence happened in Montserrat when an elderly man died and was prepared for burial by a senior nurse. She went home at the end of her shift, but next day, when she was on her to the hospital, she encountered the ‘dead’ man on the street, walking towards her. Apparently he ‘woke’ from a drunken stupor and found himself in the morgue, dressed for burial!

There have been exhumations in many countries in which the body was found as though it had been trying to claw its way out of the coffin. It is without doubt a most horrible way to die. I have a great fear of being buried alive. Such is my phobia that it is very difficult for me to attend funerals, even today. To watch newscasters reporting on people buried under earthquake debris in foreign lands is torture for me. My skin ‘crawls’ and I get ‘light-headed’, so quickly change the TV channel. Could I have been buried alive in a past life? I do believe I was!

Author

erindell04@yahoo.com
Born on the Caribbean island of Trinidad in the 1940’s, Shirley and her family lived in seven of the islands due to her father’s position in the law business. From childhood to adulthood, she found that the islands all had a ‘dark side’, far removed from the sand, sea and sun portrayed by tourism. She finally put pen to paper with her bio/anthology “Dancing with the Dead - Growing up in the Caribbean with Ghosts and Ghouls”. In addition to the witty tale of her family’s movements throughout the Caribbean, the anthology also includes all the hair-raising events experienced. Shirley currently lives on the beautiful volcanic island of Montserrat where she has been invited to tell stories at the Public Library, St Augustine Primary school and to cruise passengers. With her husband Lou and daughter Michelle, she runs Erindell Villa Guesthouse in an old villa, not exempt from its own ghosts!

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    Hi there, thanks so much for your positive feedback. Precisely which story are you concerned about? Remember this is a bio-anthology, a story of my life growing up in seven Caribbean islands and finding that they each have a dark side in addition to the sand, sea and sun touted by their tourism departments. Shirley



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    Hi there, thank you so much for your positive feedback. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my scary/fun bio-anthology. I grew up in seven of the Caribbean islands and found that they each have a ‘dark side’ in addition to their sand, sea and sun attributes. Shirley



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    Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I’m an 80yo whose husband passed away 14 months ago from dementia. Having seen how his mind deteriorated rapidly, I started writing of my past experiences because I didn’t want to forget. I spent my teen years at high school in St Vincent, fell in love with the ‘wrong person’ and was sent to my grandma in New York to ‘get me away from him’. We ended up eloping! Sigh! As regards your struggles and insecurities, you can overcome those like I did by never, ever copying. I made myself be creative. We all have a brain to be creative. Start small and you will reach great heights. Good luck! Shirley



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    Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology. I grew up in seven of the Caribbean islands and found that each one has a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. Shirley



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    Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I’m laughing because I didn’t write this bio-anthology to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. You see, I’m an 81yo Caribbean woman who grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement. I found that each one has a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, a British Overseas Territory with an active volcano and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology, “Dancing with The Dead”, so-called because my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley



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    Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I’m so glad you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however this blog is not mine – I only contribute to it. You see, I grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement and found that each one has a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology, “Dancing with The Dead”, so-called because my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley



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    Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement, and I found that each one had a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology, “Dancing with The Dead”, so-called because my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley



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    Hi there, thank you so much for your feedback. I’m so glad you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however this blog is not mine – I only contribute to it. You see, I grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement and found that each one had a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology, “Dancing with The Dead”, so-called because my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley



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    Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m so glad you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however this blog is not mine – I only contribute to it. You see, I grew up in seven Caribbean islands due to my father’s job in law enforcement and found that each one had a ‘dark side’ in addition to its sand, sea and sun attributes. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat and am loving it. I hope you will also enjoy the other chapters of my bio-anthology, “Dancing with The Dead”, so-called because my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley



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    Thank you so much for your feedback. I’m happy that you’re enjoying my bio-anthology, however I wrote it not to be informative or entertaining, but so that I wouldn’t forget my past. I now live on the tiny island of Montserrat, where my daughter actually danced with a dead man without knowing it! Shirley



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December 21, 2020

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