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<—London to Kingston Life on SS Port Morant 1902         Obeah—->

 

My Great Aunt Lucy’s plantation was called “Mon Repose” situated in the Blue Mountains and accessible by a horse drawn buggy, up rough but scenically beautiful roads, steep hills, past towering coca palms with their feathery plumes waving in the breeze, around sudden sharp bends with  waterfalls cascading down the side of the mountain. 

 

By all accounts the house was wonderful, spacious and cool with mahogany wood panelling in most rooms and windows that went from the highly polished floor to the ceiling and left open all day to let the mountain breeze run through the house.  Lucy’s sketches were all over the house as well as her water-colour paintings of exotic flowers and ferns, and brightly coloured parrots, hummingbirds and mockingbirds. 

 

My grandmother Becky wrote:

 

“Coming from Paddington, it’s taking me some time to get use to seeing such a richness of scenery that thrives under a sun that shines constantly in a cloudless clear blue sky.

 

John and Lucy are a popular couple on Kingston’s social circuit and Lucy tells us that new arrivals, even if they are only staying a short time, always attract interest, curiosity and lots of invitations to different social and sporting occasions abound.  A garden party at Winchester Park, a concert at Port Antonio, a picnic on the beach, the theatre and an invitation to Kingston Races, are just a few of the invitations we’ve received. 

 

I haven’t the stamina to accept all the invitations but Martha is making the most of the social life here which is why she sleeps late every morning.  But in spite of all that is new to us, there are some things that are very familiar about this island. 

 

Britain’s habit of colonising a country in its own image has not escaped here.  Jamaica, the exotic “land of wood and water” is divided into three counties of Middlesex, Surrey and Cornwall.  The English settlers brought with them their recreations and pastimes.   Horseracing is very popular with everyone and race meetings are held in several parts of the island. 

 

           John says there’s a cricket club in virtually every major town for the well off Jamaican, and just about every open space has become a cricket pitch for poor blacks who seem to have developed a passion for the game and would use an oil tin for the wickets and the rib of a palm leaf for a bat.  All the best hotels have tennis courts and fallow fields have been turned into polo fields.”

 

Becky and Martha spent a lot of time in Kingston doing different things.  Apparently Becky liked to go to the many markets there were around the city where women and children come down from the hillside, virtually every day, sometimes with donkeys and mules but more often, carrying baskets on their heads, laden with vegetables, sugar, tobacco, coffee, cocoa, pimento, annatto, honey, bananas, ackee, spices, ropes of tobacco and whatever else they had grown and set themselves up with a stall and sell their provisions to the local people. 

 
market-women-going-to-kingston market
 

Martha, on the other hand, liked to go to the Constant Spring Hotel where she’d taken a fancy to James McTavis, the Manager. 

 

My Great Aunt Lucy wrote: 

 

Martha’s demeanour has changed since she has been in Jamaica probably because she is happy and has been enjoying herself.  I think she is considering settling here and it is understandable, Martha has seen that she can have a standard of living and a way of life she cannot equal in London and her skills with a needle will help her find employment on the island so, who knows, it may work well for her.” 

 

My Mum, Olga, was a very superstitious woman and it wasn’t until I started doing the research on her family and Jamaica that I realised where it came from……….Obeah, a form of witchcraft which, although illegal, had flourished unchecked in Jamaica and had superstitious rites and practices which were observed with regard to every phase of life from birth to death.

 

Most Jamaicans were Christians and certainly aware that Obeah went against the teachings of the Catholic Church, yet it was obvious how important religion was to Jamaicans simply because of all the many churches and chapels of different denominations there were on the island. Baptists, Methodists, Congregationalists and Presbyterians, a few Anglican and, of course, the Catholic Church were all there. 

 

In Jamaica it was believed by most that when a man dies, his body goes to the ground and his soul goes to God, but his spirit, which is known as a duppy, stays for a while or even permanently.  There are good duppies and bad ones, but all are feared because, apparently, one doesn’t know how they’re going to behave.  They are deemed to be the instrument of the Obeah man or woman and do revengeful and malicious things.   

 

Just about everywhere on the island any accident or misfortune, illness or death was attributed to the malign influence of the spirits of the dead either initiated by the duppy’s own wicked purpose or carried out through envy, or else by someone bent on revenge towards a perceived enemy of the sufferer. 

 

Instead of offering a prayer to heaven, a man or woman would give three pounds to an Obeah practitioner and then offer a pray to God that the Obeah man is successful in what was asked of him.  The man would say that Heaven keeps him waiting but the Obeah man does not because he settles matters satisfactorily and quickly.  

 

Every parish on the island had its corners where the art of Obeah was practised and some localities had a particular reputation for it.  An Obeah man’s influence was strong because the people believed that he cannot not be harmed by the law or any white person.  People of every calling, including well educated men and women, white, coloured or black, used Obeah in some shape or form to fix a problem they might have had.   

 

It was only a matter of days before Becky had her first experience of Obeah……

 

<—London to Kingston Life on SS Port Morant 1902                Obeah—->

 

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<—My First Contact                         Life on Board SS Port Morant 1902—>

 

Letter – from Becky Ross, Droop Street, Paddington, London 

to

Lucy Sinclair, Constant Spring Hotel,  Jamaica 

 

July 1901

 

Dearest Lucy

 

It was lovely to receive your last letter.   Martha was very interested with your remarks about Jamaican women and how fashion conscious they are.  Maybe there is an opportunity for her skills over there, although at the moment she’s got a “gentleman friend”, a private in the army and they certainly do see a lot of each other. 

 

I’m working as a governess in Kensington for a very nice young couple who have two children, Emily and Robert, but it’s only a temporary position because they have an elderly governess who has been with the family for ages (handed down from generation to generation I think) but took a leave of absence and will be returning to her position in about two months.  That suits me well, because when I finish I want to enrol in a housekeeping and basic cookery course with Marshall’s Cookery School in Marylebone Road.  

 

I think the more things I can turn my hand too the less chance I’ll be pressured by Pa into marrying a man of his choice.  Would you believe it, Lucy,  in the past few weeks he has brought home three police constables to dinner with the express purpose of them looking me over to see if I am suitable marriage material.   I’ve no intention of being press ganged into marrying someone I don’t love even if it means I do end up a spinster of the parish. 

 

It’s wonderful to hear about your life over there.  I read your letters over and over again, usually on the way home from work, freezing cold and trudging through London smog, snow or rain, Jamaica seems magical, like a fairy land. 

 

Ma and Pa send their love to you and ask if you are going to mass on Sunday.  I assured them that we were all too scared of the hell and damnation that would befall us were we not to.

 

Your loving sister (Signed Becky)

 
 
  

Letter from Lucy Sinclair, “Mon Repose”, Jamaica 

to

Becky and Martha Ross, Droop Street, London.

 

February 1902 

 

Dearest Becky and Martha

 

It is barely a year ago that we arrived here; such a lot has happened in a short space of time.  John has found a small estate for sale, about 1,050 acres, and it is within our budget so, we have bought it and named our first home “Mon Repose”.

 

It’s in the parish of St Andrews which is a few miles from Kingston and John says it is in a good position as it is on fairly level land and has a stream running through it.  There are stables and a large barn which house some  50 or so cattle, 3 horses, 3 mules, a wagon cart and some other equipment that came with the land.   The horses and mules will be useful but John is undecided about whether he wants to raise cattle. He is keen to grow more crops and make use of  what he has learnt with Bertie Pollock. 

 

The land is divided by wire fences, most of which need repairing and has considerable cultivation in bananas, coffee, pimentos, over 150 bearing coconut trees and other bits and bobs. 

 

The house is quite large though it does need an awful lot of renovation because it has been empty for years, but its structure is sound.  It has a drawing room, dining room and four bedrooms and is quite well furnished.  That takes care of  one immediate problem, having to furnish it.  There is a kitchen and outside a water closet as well as an outhouse for bathing.

 

Oh it’s perfect Becky.  You and Martha must come and visit very soon.  There is plenty of room in the house, lots to see, and so much I want to show you.  Are you and Martha working on persuading Pa and Ma to let you come for a holiday? 

 

Your loving sister  (Signed Lucy)

  

Telegram from Martha and Becky Ross, London 

to

Lucy Sinclair, Jamaica

 

Success at last!.  Martha and I leaving Avonmouth at 4.45 pm on 16th July for Kingston on “S. S. Port Morant”.   All being well should arrive on 28th .  Very excited.  Longing to see you.  Love Becky.

 

 

<—My First Contact                 Life on Board SS Port Morant 1902—>

 

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<— But First the History Bit                                    St Andrews, Jamaica —>

 

In 1900 the head of the Ross family was Samuel Ross, a constable with the Metropolitan Police, somewhat overbearing but a pillar of the community and living in Droop Street, Paddington, London. His wife, Harriet, was the opposite of Samuel, quiet and timid. They had three daughters, Lucy, Rebecca (known to all as Becky) and Martha. They family were devout Catholics and never missed attending confession on Friday evening and mass on Sunday morning.

Also living with them was Lucy’s husband, John Sinclair, a young man from Inverness in Scotland, who had a small inheritance as a result of selling his family’s farm after the death of his parents.  John had seen and responded to this advertisement in The Times below: 

ad11

It was as a resut of his successful application that a few weeks later my Great Aunt Lucy and John were on their way to Jamaica where John was to take up an apprenticeship post working for Bertram Pollock on his plantation just outside Kingston, in the foothills of the Blue Mountains. 

When Lucy and John arrived in Kingston they found a boom town and fell in love with the island almost immediately.

psalm-of-jamaica

<— But First the History Bit                                         St Andrews, Jamaica —>

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