Uncle Fred

I’m nearing overload…woke with another headache that blossomed into a migraine later in the afternoon, but still managed to enjoy lunch on the terrace with my cousin at The Hermitage Plantation Inn. The owners weren’t around, unfortunately, but the receptionist kindly gave me an information sheet that shed some light on the site. There were 17 enslaved people listed for The Hermitage Estate in 1817, and that doesn’t seem like enough people to run a sugar plantation. It seems the estate originally farmed tobacco, indigo, cotton, and spices before eventually turning to sugar. That might explain the small number of slaves. The Pembertons eventually owned larger plantations but kept the old homestead for invalid members of the family. “Black Dog” might have been a house servant or she might have worked in the garden or with the crops (or all of the above). Of course, I had to ask all the employees I saw if they had ever seen a ghost. The first two said, “No–and I don’t want to!” But then they directed me to the receptionist and she had many sightings to report. Another employee told us about the tamarind tree (above) where slaves were apparently sold (or punished?)—the tree is covered in fruit but apparently none of it is edible…

I came home with a migraine but felt better after lying down for a while and went back out to meet three of my cousins. They took us to meet Uncle Fred who lives in Brown Hill, the village where my father grew up. I asked Uncle Fred if it was true that Brown Hill was the site of the first slave rebellion. He said when he was a boy, he used to gather up cannon balls that littered the side of the hill. Apparently when the slaves rebelled, the British called in naval reinforcements and the ship(s) bombarded the hill. He also told us that he once was in a field that had several holes, and when he asked another person what the holes were for, he was told that pregnant slaves had been laid belly down when they were whipped so that the unborn baby (property) would be protected. Oral history, y’all…

Tomorrow we’re going to 8:30 church service at St. John’s and then we’re meeting two cousins to have a traditional Nevisian breakfast—johnny cakes, saltfish, banana pancakes, ham, eggs….

Just heard the verdict. Glad I’m not in the US right now. Just too weary to write any more…