day of discovery

I just ate a mango with a spoon. Not pretty, but *so* good and I didn’t have a knife here in my room. I need to figure out how to eat dinner here in Nevis. By the time I get back to the hotel, I desperately need silence and solitude. I don’t want to eat alone in the dining room, I don’t want anyone to keep me company (not that the other guests have made any friendly overtures), and there’s no room service at night. So dinner tonight is a granola bar plus a mango. I also have some tiny plums that my aunt sent me home with—I didn’t have the nerve to ask for a third serving of black-eyed peas and rice to go! My grandparents used to make the best rice and I haven’t had any since my grandmother died in 2005. Yes, I could learn to cook it myself, but that’s not the point. I want to be cooked for.

This morning I started a journal and tried to recall all the impressions and observations that I haven’t had the energy to post here on the blog. My days are so full of discovery—I’m not sure when I’ll actually process everything that’s going on. Today I learned that a photograph I’ve had for years is actually of my great-grandfather and not my great-grandmother’s second husband as I’d been told. All I need now is a photograph of my grandmother, and I’m starting to believe that *just* might happen because when I got into the taxi this morning, my driver turned out to be an attorney and former politician who listened to my mission, made a few calls, and then drove me straight to the Nevis administration office and introduced me to another Elliott! She kindly listened to my story about Rosetta, called her aged father to ask for details, and promised to get back to me when he didn’t pick up the phone. Just like that! I was late getting to my 10am appointment at the Nevis Historical and Conservation Society, but was nonetheless warmly received and the curator patiently listened to my many areas of interest and brought me *just* what I was looking for: a booklet about Nevis at the time of Alexander Hamilton’s residence here, slave registers, and a list of the plantations in St. John’s parish (where my family’s from). We had some trouble with the photocopier, but I still came away with this sample roster—look at the name of the third slave on the list:

Can you read it? A sixty year old enslaved black woman was called “Black Dog.” I’d like to believe I’m reading that wrong, but I don’t think I am. And I’ve never seen the word “Sambo” being used to describe a slave’s color (a Google search provides this clue: “samboe is offspring of a half-caste and a black person”). This particular plantation didn’t have any African slaves, but most had quite a few—and some rosters ended with a list of slaves who “absconded.” So many names for so many people whose stories we’ll never know. Sobering but also inspiring. After the historical society I went to my aunt’s house and devoured the tasty meal she’d prepared for me. The last time I visited her at home, an itinerant donkey left an unwanted deposit on the front step; this time around we heard the dog barking and I looked out the window to see a giant hog rooting around the yard. Yesterday I saw a little white egret hanging out with a herd of goats and three monkeys sneaking onto the grounds of a luxurious hotel…there’s no way I can paint a complete picture of this experience. While I was at Golden Rock Plantation yesterday, I raised my camera to take a photo of the converted windmill and saw a tiny black dot hovering at the edge of the frame. I lowered the camera just in time to see the hummingbird disappear. Today, as I left Mrs. Liburd’s yard, I looked over at a hibiscus plant and saw two tiny black-crested hummingbirds—I had just enough energy left to smile before they raced toward me and flew just inches above my head…

So much more to share but I think I’d better save it for the journal. I managed to sleep until past 5am this morning, so will hope for another hour tonight. Tomorrow my mountain-climbing adventure begins at 7:30am. My great-grandfather, “Pa” Elliott, was from Rawlins and where do you think I’ll be heading tomorrow? Rawlins…I’m taking his photo with me in case anyone recognizes him. If nothing else, I’d like to know his name…