Читать книгу Oliver Jones - Marthe Sansregret - Страница 9

CHAPTER I A Quote from Memory 1896–1934

Making music is so natural to Oliver Jones that at first it seems his life must have been easy – a success story. In fact, recognition came to him late in life, and by then, even in his wildest dreams, he wasn’t expecting it. Oliver went through many different stages before tasting international fame, and through it all, uppermost in his mind but rarely mentioned, there was the memory of his ancestors – a memory that would have had him take another path.

The source of this memory lay in West Africa many generations ago, when the chiefs of African tribes sold the strongest of their young people as slaves to European navigators. Once they were marked for this tragic fate, groups of a dozen or more of these young men and women were crowded into cages hardly big enough to hold three people sitting down. They were kept there for up to two weeks, suffering from heat and dehydration and fainting or dying until the ones who had survived were herded onto slave ships for the infamous middle passage to the New World.

Upon their arrival on the island of Barbados, Oliver Jones’s ancestors were handed over to a plantation owner, and the relation of a dominating master over a submissive slave began. Living and working conditions were terrible, with overlong hours, back-breaking labour, and continual forced servility. Many of the slaves were treated worse than animals on the sugar plantations. They owned nothing, not even their identity. When a child was born to a slave, the slave owner would choose a first name and simply add his own family name, registering both on the white page of a bible. Oliver’s family name, Jones, was created in this arbitrary manner.

In 1807, the slave trade was prohibited in British-owned territories, but it was three decades before slavery itself was abolished by the British Parliament. August 1, 1838 was declared Emancipation Day. Following emancipation, however, the slaves were obliged to spend several years as indentured servants in a cruel apprenticeship system, and the relation between owner and slave became one of master and servant. But there was no turning back for the former slaves.

Oliver Jones’s free forebears obtained a plot of land in the St. George Valley and began to grow fruit and sugar cane. His father, Oliver Wesley Jones, was born at Drax Hall in 1896, and two years later, his mother, Jestina Louise Burrowes, was born in Waverly Cot in the same parish.

The two families, who would be joined several years later, lived according to the traditions of their ancestors and the Protestant faith. The language they spoke was English and their education was modeled on the British system. Grandmothers raised the children while their parents worked on the plantations adjacent to the villages.

Things should have gradually changed for the better. However, economic depression at the end of the nineteenth century, the fury of the hurricane of 1898, and a smallpox epidemic in 1902 made living in Barbados increasingly precarious.

That was why, in 1913 at age 17, Oliver Wesley determined to change the course of his life. He discussed the idea of immigrating to Canada with his brother, MacDonald. He had heard that in this faraway land, there was plenty of work for strong and courageous people.

Even though their decision may have been partly due to youthful bravado, there was not much future on the island for young men dreaming of getting married and raising a family. Worse, it was unlikely that they would be able to give their children something that was a cherished value for most Barbadians: a good education.

Because Barbados was a member of the British Commonwealth like Canada, their chosen destination, the immigration procedures were not prohibitive. The two young men began to imagine what they would achieve once they got there. However, to qualify for entry, they had to fill out forms and produce their birth certificates. Once they had these official documents in hand, they realized they were not born of the same father and mother, and that they did not even have the same last name. Oliver Wesley’s was Jones and MacDonald’s was Pyle. On the birth certificates, there was no indication that they were even half-brothers.

On the island, there were so many half-brothers and sisters that sometimes a leap of the imagination was needed to figure out who was related. Oliver Wesley’s maternal grandmother and MacDonald’s were sisters and they had decided to give their own last name, Harewood, to their respective grandsons. In Barbados, the grandmother’s word was law in the family. Grandmothers had their own way of raising their grandchildren. They taught the lessons of life according to the principles of their ancestors and the rules of their religion, insisting on the paramount importance of always telling the truth. The boys had always accepted each other as brothers, until they found out that their pious grandmothers had stretched the truth a little in this matter.

In spite of this discovery, the two cousins, who were born the same year and had always played together and attended school together, did not see any reason why their brotherly relationship should not continue. But from then on, each one used his father’s last name, and kept the memory of the mix-up as a story they would tell their children later on.

Preparations for the voyage reached the final stage. Oliver Wesley and his cousin MacDonald, neither one afraid of the future, bade goodbye to the family and set out on their new adventure. They made for Bridgetown, the capital of Barbados and the port of embarkation for ships sailing on the Caribbean Sea. They brought with them their modest belongings, including a few photographs of their loved ones. For a personal reason that he never divulged, Oliver Wesley wanted the trip to be strictly one-way.

***

In Halifax harbour, after a rough voyage, Oliver Wesley and his cousin had their first encounter with Canada. They were exhausted but full of hope. After a life that had sometimes been cruel to them and their family, they were prepared to do any type of work, however menial or difficult it might be.

The first job assigned to them, working as coal miners, would be a real challenge. They had never been inside a mine in their lives. Also, to reach the mining town in Cape Breton, they had to board a train, a means of transportation they had never seen before. When they arrived in New Waterford, Oliver Wesley and MacDonald were taken to a mean wooden shack, a place they would soon learn to call home.

Early the next morning, they heard the mine whistle pierce the air. Only when they were being lowered into the pit did they realize what their work would involve. The bottom of a mine is hardly an inviting place. As they watched the experienced miners – some of whom had spent their days underground for more than thirty years – Oliver Wesley and MacDonald had a new sense of what courage and sacrifice meant. Respectfully, they listened to the men singing and whistling to lighten the burden of their work. To make the day go faster and to fill gaps in the conversation, especially at lunchtime, the boys talked about their family and told jokes like the old-time miners did. Some miners, especially the bachelors, liked to talk about girls, giving each other a good motivation to keep going!

Surfacing at their end of their working day, many of the younger miners would stroll through the town in the hope of meeting girls. Before long, the handsome Oliver Wesley understood that knowing how to coax a tune out of a guitar gave a man a mysterious power over women. Since he loved chasing girls, he decided to put this knowledge to use to charm the belles of New Waterford.

One morning, when they were working together underground, Oliver Wesley told his cousin of an unusual dream he’d had the night before: he had seen an intense vision of his mother and had wanted the image to linger. At the end of that day, his supervisor told him a telegram from Barbados had arrived. It contained the announcement that his mother had passed away.

The sudden loss of his beloved mother was a tragedy for Oliver Wesley, especially since he was too far away to attend her funeral and share his grief with the family. At the same time, he felt it was a sign that he should make a complete break with the past. His mother had represented home to him, in the deepest meaning of the word. From that moment on, his intention to stay in Canada for good solidified.

***

It was 1914. Rumours were circulating that young men were needed to fight in Europe.

Oliver Wesley, who had a strong sense of patriotism mixed with pride in being a British subject, decided to enlist in the Canadian army, which was then closely connected to the British army. A brave young man like many of his generation, he wanted to fight for freedom.

It was not that easy for Oliver Wesley to enlist. First of all, he was not old enough. But, like many would-be soldiers, he lied about his age. The other problem was that Black men were not being accepted for combat in what was considered a White man’s war. This barrier disappeared in 1917, when, with no end to the war in sight, Black soldiers were finally sent from Canada to serve in France, Belgium, Holland, and Italy.

Aware of this changed policy, Oliver Wesley went back to the recruiting office to try his luck again. After passing his medical examination on June 10, 1918, he filled out the last of the official forms, giving the name of his paternal grandmother, Cecilia Alleyne, as the family member to contact in case of death. He completed his military training and joined the First Depot Battalion, Nova Scotia Regiment, with the rank of Private.

On August 2, 1918, he said goodbye to his cousin, who had chosen to remain in New Waterford, and embarked on a ship for England. After arriving in Liverpool, he was taken to the army base of Purfleet. On October 9, Oliver Wesley Jones was sent to France to join the 11th Battalion of Canadian Railway Troops. He began as a sapper in a unit of engineers assigned to build trenches and fortifications.

Working as a miner had been dangerous for Oliver Wesley’s long-term health, not to mention the risk of death from explosions and other mining disasters. Now, on the battlefield, his health and life were threatened just as much, but this time by human folly. Fortunately, there were short periods when the soldiers could take leave in a nearby village. During one of these excursions, Oliver Wesley met a Belgian girl, Margot, and fell in love with her. They were serious enough about each other to begin making plans for after the war.

When the war finally ended, Oliver Wesley sailed on the Lapland on February 20,1919. He arrived in Halifax on March 1, and was discharged from the army on March 22.

He participated in Canada’s rejoicing on Armistice Day, singing and dancing with people on the streets in the name of victory with a capital V. Together, they celebrated the freedom obtained by brave soldiers, many of whom had been killed, while thousands of others were sent home crippled. The survivors were the veterans, also written with a capital V.

Oliver Wesley was lucky. He had suffered only a few bruises and some muscle pain. He was thankful that all his faculties were intact, except for the fact that his memory was overloaded with painful images. He had lost friends and seen civilians killed. When he reunited with his cousin, MacDonald, he preferred not to talk about the war. Although he had only been at the front for a few months, it seemed like years to him.

Margot, Oliver Wesley’s Belgian girlfriend, immigrated to Canada to be with him. They were only together for a few months. In Oliver Wesley’s view, there were too many hardships in store for the children of a racially mixed marriage. When he let Margot know what he felt about it, they decided to separate.

Following his break-up with Margot, Oliver Wesley wanted a change, and hoped that he could use the trades he had learned in Barbados: welding and furniture-making. In 1925, he took the train to Montreal, the biggest city in Canada. With his experience in the Canadian Railway Troops, he was qualified to work on the railroad. Soon after his arrival, he landed a job as a mechanic for the Canadian Pacific Railway at the Angus Shops on Rachel Street in the eastern section of the city.

***

Meanwhile, in Waverly Cot, Barbados, Jestina Louise, one of the seven girls of the Burrowes family, was making her living as a seamstress. She also made patterns for some of her more picky customers.

While other girls worked in cottage industries outside the home, Jestina attracted customers to her by word of mouth. She was her own boss, planning her time as she wished and deciding how much to spend and how much to save. Frugal and well organized, she liked to know exactly where she was headed.

Jestina Louise was also well capable of helping her grandmother take care of the house. Following the tradition of her African ancestors, she was trained in basic health care and hygiene, enough to know how to treat certain illnesses, and to know when it was time to call the doctor. She also had a beautiful voice. Every Sunday at the Church of St. Luke in the parish of St. George, people enjoyed listening to her sing hymns, accompanied at the organ by her father, who had studied music in England and directed the church choir.

Things appeared to be going well for Jestina Louise, but she was worried all the same. At age 27, she knew her future was bleak, as was the case for many young women in Barbados. The economy of the island had remained stagnant. Some of her relatives and friends who had immigrated to Canada wrote in their letters that it was possible to make a decent living there provided one was willing to work hard. Very few of them mentioned plans to return. With her characteristic determination and hot temper, Jestina Louise decided that something had to be done, and sooner rather than later!

She sailed for Canada to join her sisters, Clementine and Irene, who were already established in Montreal. Irene’s husband, Sydney Bryant, sponsored Jestina. She had another support in her decision to emigrate: her strong faith in God. Her father, also a Church of England minister, had educated her by the assiduous reading of passages from the Bible, emphasizing what he felt was important for her to remember. As a result of this training, whenever Jestina was anxious or sad, she’d say a little prayer, and so far, it seemed to work.

In this frame of mind, she boarded the ship in Bridgetown and left the rest of the family behind, including George, her only brother. The ocean voyage was tumultuous and so desperately long that she lost all notion of time.

***

When she first arrived in Montreal, Jestina was impressed by everything she saw. People walked quickly on their way to work or to some other place they seemed to be in a hurry to get to. Many of the men were well turned-out in suits, high hats, and cravats, and the women wore elegant long dresses topped by extravagant hats. They rode in horse-drawn carriages or in electric tramways, which Jestina had never seen before. When she saw an automobile going by, built high with wooden wheels and rubber tires with a white stripe around them, she said to herself that rich people must live in the city.

Once Jestina had settled in with her sister’s family, she began to spend her Sunday afternoons after church exploring her surroundings. She compared women’s clothes in Barbados and those worn in Montreal. In the Caribbean, light fabrics were used all year round for skirts, tops, and dresses, while in the cool of the evening, a cardigan was enough to keep warm. In Montreal, the climate forced women to wear different types of apparel during the year. But there was obviously another reason for this amazing variety of clothing: to stay in style!

Quick-witted and practical, Jestina immediately saw great opportunities for a seamstress in this situation. But she forced herself to face reality: her immigration papers had assigned her the professional category of “domestic.” She would have to work as a servant in the homes of Saint-Henri.

***

During her leisure time, Jestina observed the atmosphere of freedom, frivolity, and permissiveness that reigned in Montreal in the latter half of the 1920s. When the weather got warmer, in bars as well as on the street, women hitched up the hems of their skirts. Their emancipation was expressed by dancing to ragtime music. In the nightclubs, alcohol flowed copiously, while in the United States, Prohibition had been in force since 1919. People were crazy for the jazz and blues that were played in the clubs until three or four o’clock every morning.

But Jestina wasn’t fond of this type of pastime. When she finished work, she would visit one of the three institutions in the neighbourhood where coloured people (as Black people were called in those days) liked to get together. There was the Union United Church, which had been there since 1907, the Universal Negro Improvement Association, founded twelve years later, and lastly, a place that she appreciated very much: the Negro Community Centre, which had just opened its doors and where young people could socialize.

It was at the Community Centre that Jestina Louise Burrowes renewed her acquaintance with Oliver Wesley Jones, whom she had met in St. George years earlier. He held a steady job at the Angus Shops and now felt ready for marriage. Like Jestina, he had a penchant for art and music. He no longer plucked the guitar, but he did sing and play the piano. Jestina, for reasons best known to herself, chose not to reveal her singing talent; she preferred to spend her free time cooking, sewing, and home decorating.

Oliver Wesley and Jestina Louise did not discuss their common background as the descendants of captive Africans forced to labour on the plantations of Barbados. Like most members of the Black community, instead of brooding over the past, they tended to look towards the future. And Jestina Louise, now 29 years old, knew with whom she wanted to share that future. So did Oliver Wesley.

On October 15, 1927, their marriage rites were performed with a touch of Caribbean tradition at Union United Church by the Reverend Charles H. Este, a minister born in Antigua. The newlyweds then emerged from the church as Mr. and Mrs. Jones.

The couple took up residence in Verdun, where life was uneventful until the birth of their first child, Lillian, at the Royal Victoria Hospital. Jestina stayed at home for a while to take care of their infant daughter. Then, to make ends meet, she did part-time domestic work nearby, taking Lillian with her to her workplace.

Two years later, Lillian had a sister, Violet. The apartment being too small to hold four people, the family moved to a larger place on Coursol Street in Little Burgundy. Two years after Violet’s birth, the Joneses had a son whom they christened Frederick.

On September 11, 1934, Mr. and Mrs. Jones awaited the imminent arrival of their fourth child.