Losing your identity.....

This is just a post about what St Helena meant (means) to me....and how it was all taken away from me, leaving me feeling like I belong nowhere.

St Helena always has been (and still is) where my heart is; ever since being taken back there for the first time on the Maiden Voyage of the RMS in 1990, I have felt deeply connected and firmly rooted to the place I felt was "home".

I am a half Saint. But to me that means nothing. Its my motherland - and due to an abusive relationship with my mother (which I only discovered fairly recently), I know nothing of my dad's side of my family who are here in the UK - as my mother stopped my father from having any contact with his own family. Therefore, the only family I know - other than my parents, are those which are still on St Helena. There I have what seems like half an island worth of relatives! I have fond memories of them mostly from childhood; of my Nana's house with what seemed like ten million rooms for such a huge family, my aunties both next door (across the field) and down the hill (which I used to roll down as a child....im told adults dont do that anymore on the island...sad...they do here!). Another Aunt lived half way up this magical hill with a fort on top called High Knoll, and another was in the islands biggest settlement - Half Tree Hollow. I also had an Aunt at the Briars, and some family working on Ascension Island. Along with these Aunts (and uncles) came loads of cousins. I always felt close to my cousins, as if they were growing up seperately from me, but that we were still attached. I made mud pies with at least 5 of them, and many had younger brothers and sisters too. I attended St Pauls Middle school for a while, and made friends there. We enjoyed going to pick pineapples from the ground, and dates from the trees (even if it meant getting stuck in the tree). For a child, St Helena could be heaven (or as we now know it could be hell). Although that goes for adults too. I also met Jonathon the tortoise for the first time, the oldest animal on earth; although im glad to say his diet has improved now as he is at least 180 years old. In his younger days children used to ride him like a horse, which was a bit mean, and im glad that was stopped.

Like Africa, the Island is one of those places that once it gets inside you, or you are inside it...it keeps drawing you back. Except in this case - it wasnt just the island, it was family and friends. The whole experience of getting there made the draw even stronger and the longing even deeper. In 1990 we travelled for 2 weeks from Cardiff, on the RMS, stopping at Tenerife (after passing through horrendous weather), crossed the equator with the traditional "Crossing the Line Ceremony" (I remember getting a certificate from King Neptune - the Captain, and being dressed as a mermaid....other than that it was throwing pies and cream at people....), and eventually we disembarked to see family on Ascension. A few days later, the ship left again and we boarded for St Helena. I've described a little of my time on the island as a child above, but during this trip, as always, the RMS broke down on its Maiden voyage back to the UK, and had to dry dock in Portugal. This stranded us for 3 extra months (which didnt bother me - I wanted to stay forever, although dont think my brother was too keen..). Getting back wasnt so great - we borrowed a shitty boat (in many ways) called the Loland Lancer, which took us to Ascension, then we were some of the first people to leave on the RAF Tristar. The one which had two fire engines waiting for it to arrive, as they thought it might have "problems"...(could be a possible trigger for my flight phobia). There were a few other things about my childhood which may have been warning flags, and ive only thought about again recently, but one has always haunted me - I remember my mother and my Nana physically fighting...in the bathroom. Before I had to go to school. I didnt understand what was going on being so young, but there was definately something very very wrong at that point. To this day I do not know. And like other parts of my life....i've been told I "imaged / dreamed" it. But my memories are clear as day. I am glad however that clearly they fixed their relationship, and in the coming years (and on my next visit), they seemed to get along much better.

I didnt have the opportunity to go back again until I had finished my first degree in Animal Sciences, and went to work with the Veterinary Department at ANRD, where I made some very good friends, solved a few major issues (penicillin out of date in 1960 type thing, and humane euthanasia to name a couple....), and assisted with small animal operations, mainly castrations and spays, and large animal outreach work. The farm work was interesting.....an entire morning could be spent "catching" the animals before seeing to them (farmers lazy back then), and I did spend a lot of time castrating tiny piglets and giving them Iron injections. Saw some pretty gruesome stuff too....but came with the job. Euthanasia for donkey......slitting the throat (sorry...haunts me too, but was very quick), a torchlight c-section on a cow....who lost so much blood (I was bathed in it), that she died from shock the next day, rescuing "would be euthanased via bag with brick in it thrown off cliff" kittens by the hundreds, and tending to a cow in a very poor state, too sickening to describe kept at Harpers for "Animal Husbandry" classes. I did report this, although the outcome was kept very secret, and the island I gathered didnt actually understand the concept of reporting things back then. A friend an I rescued a kitten called Smudge from a puddle in Jamestown, must have been no older than a week. We fed him up, and due to the constant "threat of euthanasia, as its quick, simple, and cheap"....we hid him in with the chickens overnight (!)....until we could find him a home. One of my aunties in fact ended up with one of our strays and loved him. Joey he was called. We managed to tame him in about 5 mins, from a litter of complete strays. Of course the job involved vaccinations and routine treatments for fleas and worms etc. A few awkward moments were had when being asked to put to sleep rather than pay 50p for a dose of flea treatment. And other awkward moments were had when I decided that enough was enough with the cat trapping (feral) programme, told the manager that I was working in the veterinary profession, not for a butcher. And gave up with that part. The original plan had been to trap and neuter....but the advice from abroad was not taken and it became "trap and euthanase". I could go into a lot more details about my veterinary days, but the blog would be too long. I made a friend for life there though (and also we shared a joint enemy - chief euthanaser!).

Leaving the island was very difficult, but at that point in time I was ready to do so. Would miss my Nana the most....all her lovely cooking, even if she didnt understand the concept of being "on-call"...and when I was late for my dinner after the c-section nightmare I therefore ate my dinner whilst soaked head to toe in cattle blood, before being allowed to bath.

The bath was either heated by a geysir using cones and kindling wood, or by very large pots on the woodburning stove. Another fond memory.....filling up the bath !! Everynight, every single night even if you hadnt moved all day, as you must NEVER go without a bath! As a child if there wasnt time, I remember we had to wash our feet at least, because we shared beds between cousins, top and tail. And dirty feet in your face wasnt nice.

I kept in touch with family over the years as much as I could, I wrote a lot to my Nana, and I recently discovered in her house every single letter I had ever sent her in my life! She kept everything. She wrote back to me for as long as she was able, well into her late 80s. Communication was difficult otherwise, with no internet (television was only introduced after my first visit....although the island did have videos), or mobile network, and a telephone rate that makes your eyes pop out meaning one call a year - Christmas day. Hence never getting through...because of a shortage of lines and everyone calling on the same day...

I went back again in between finishing my job at the field centre and starting my Msc in Aberdeen, in 2007 with my boyfriend. This time we flew into Johannesburg, travelled across SA and Namibia by road (many adventures...but wrong blog), and boarded the RMS in Walvis Bay. A shorter trip of about 5 days at sea. We had great fun (especially him....being taken to this dot in the middle of an ocean, that he hadnt even noticed was a dot on the map before) introducing him to island life, all the family were happy to see us (well...most ;) ), and yes we spent a VERY long time with Jonathon :) And we came back through Ascension Island, where we stayed with family....the ones less happy to see us :/ ). It was amazing to go back to Ascension....to climb the crators, visit the beaches with turtles, and scale Green Mountain...as well as bumping into Landcrabs ...and at that point in time..steering well clear of wild crazy killer donkeys, through no fault of their own - all they had to eat was cardboard at the time....so it was no wonder they were mental.

So that was the last time I had been back, seen my family, explored my island, and met the new members of my family who are growing at an alarming rate I cant keep up. My health started to deteriorate over the next few years, and id got to the point where I was having to take a lot of time off work. At the point where I couldnt really handle things anymore, I began missing the Island more and more.....I had savings, in order to eventually go back, I knew my Nana was now old and frail, and it took me a while, but I finally made the decision that it made sense to go back and see my Nana while I still could - especially as the RMS was still running, with the airport being delayed. I really really wanted to be aboard the RMS again...and im so glad I was. I even got unexpected extra time (explain later!), and took my time saying a proper goodbye to our loyal ship. My childhood memories always came back to me, she has changed so little. Although no longer doing her UK trips due to age, the pool never filled up with locusts on passing the coast of Senegal. Other childhood memories included winning a box of maltesers in a treasure hunt (I never win anything), an oboard fire where I excitedly wanted to get into a lifeboat, and was disappointed that they had put it out, and the bath. The bath was great...even when older. In built "wave machine"...very soothing and I was the only person to ever use the bathroom, as it made people feel sea sick. (Possibly one of the reasons for losing that bit of the ship later...). The dinner bell....never changed to my delight...and will always hold a special place in my heart of all things :)

But I have skipped a bit...back to the point; towards the end of 2016 I had decided that 10 years was long enough to wait to go back, and after making speedy enquiries to my amazement there was room on the ship. I was booked to go to Ascension from Brize Norton on my birthday (29th Jan)....not really a fun way to spend your birthday if you are flight phobic. And was booked to travel from Ascension on the RMS in 5 days time, staying with my cousins in the meantime. After the horrendous flight (8 hours, panicking, being baby sat in first class with Royal Engineers staring at me...probably wondering....why is she in first class?), I really enjoyed catching up with my cousins again after so long. And their children. I didnt do quite as much exploring this time but I did climb to the summit of Green mountain alone. Noticed healthier goats, and even the donkeys were chilled out and healthy looking this time, evidently due to more green vegetation on the island than ever before. I hand fed one who bonded with me...but dont tell anyone ;)

My last day on Ascension was great fun as when the ship arrived, other family members who now live on the Falklands were getting off to fly back. So we had about 3 hours to catch up, before I boarded the ship, and my homework skills were put to the test....

It was wonderful but sad at the same time. I was lucky to be travelling with Captain Rodney Young's family, whom id been talking too a short while ago about the display in Aberdeen Maritime Museum. He had trained with CalMac ferries in Scotland and id taken gifts for him. Sadly he passed away on a flight suddenly, and unexpectedly, hence his family travelling back also. But they were greatful to accept my gifts on his behalf.

The ship had not changed :) It already felt like home....the sun lounge, deck, dining saloon (where its impossible to go hungry but you do have to sit with who you are told to..so you better get on with them ;) ). The pool still there, although id no inclination to use it this time. I collected as many memoirs / photographs for Aberdeen Maritime Museum as I could, seeing the familiar Russell and Hall / A&P Appledore signs displayed, as the ship was the last ever passenger ship to be built in Aberdeen. Probably explains the two second hand ferry engines, and the subsequent ever lasting engine trouble (!), as they company went out of business after....but all in all she has served us extremely well...and is a true Saint. The neat little cabins were just as they had always been, accidentally agreeing to the early morning cup of tea, and down on C deck (all I could afford) could hear the familiar engine sounds...and feel the heat until the AC kicked in.

My cousins partner Jake was on board and id completely forgotten that he worked on the ship! So that was a surprise bumping into him, and after 10 years, some people are hard to recognise :/ Its always slightly embarrassing as they all seem to remember me, I remember faces, but as for names, 10 years is a long time for me :/ We had a calm 3 day voyage, which was odd for February, with its notorious rollers, we decided Rodney must be at the controls :) The first night however was spent going nowehere - had to wait on a delayed plane with important people on it....did think to myself I could have had extra time with my cousins, but at least I was back on my ship.. The time passes surprisingly quickly, even on the longer voyage to Cape Town as everyone becomes zombified, and stares for hours on end at the horizon (there is a row in the sunlounge known as "Saints Avenue" where this happens. I joined them at times, and clearly its a good technique for those troubling with sea sickness who hadnt taken up the Doctors offer of the injection that literally knocks you out for hours.) I had my moments, with my silly phobia of other people being sick, and took my own pills which made me feel more secure (even though I never felt sick.....just panicked!), quite odd, but meant I didnt have to miss out on any of the food which I had paid for. (A MASSIVE downside if you happen to need the injection....). Reading, knitting, chatting to others, quizes, deck cricket, and generally being lazy on deck in the sun passed the time. And that dinner bell......was STILL the same! I was delighted (I might be strange there....as in many ways). That had been alerting people to dinner since 1990 and it was now 2017! I have recorded a clip of it to keep since her retirement, and will do my best to remember to share it with you.

Arriving back on St Helena after 10 years was surreal; same old journey down the ladder, jump into the wee boat to go ashore, then jump onto the steps with the swell. Got through Customs rather quickly without having to provide evidence of my family, as the person on the desk was taught by my mother (one bonus), so was happy to escape the £20 landing fee.

The arrivals area had changed (altho this time I remembered to board the bus.....how we got away with that last time i'll never know), but found my way following the somewhat backwards signs and spotted one of my Aunties waiting for me with my second cousins who id not yet met. It was so lovely to be back, we were soon in the car (after box hunting at customs for something id taken for another aunt), and were travelling through Jamestown looking as colourful, if not busier, as ever, and then the memories came flooding back as we headed up Ladder Hill Road :) The ear popping too :) Just being back on these steep roads made me feel so at home, and we went straight to the CCC, a new nursing home complex in Half Tree Hollow to surprise my nana.

She did look more frail having lost a lot of weight, and no longer dying her hair (!), but she was still same old Nana, the first thing she said to me was how I could come ashore with black soot on my clothes :) Obviously having been on the ship, while it was in the harbour...naturally everyone gets doused in soot...but perhaps I should have chosen a black t shirt instead!! Nana notices everything :) She was clearly happy to see me though, and I remember her telling me that I must be shocked and wasnt expecting to see how old she is......so I reminded her it had been ten years ;)

I then enjoyed fishcakes at another aunties house, felt so at home there too, with the familiar views, albeit more built up. They seemed like the best fishcakes ever. Then we went up to Nana's house, where I would be staying (as always). Was kind of weird in a way, as she wasnt in it, and she always had been before, but I loved the memories in the house. The rooms had hardly changed, the photographs of just about every member of the family, the same old kitchen (minus wood burner), and same old cockroaches in the bathroom. Yes, I was even happy to be reunited with cockroaches. The feeling of being "at home" and away from all stress was incredible, sitting on the steps of her house with views across to the Peaks, Flagstaff (which always seems to glow at sunset), and High Knoll fort - which is now lit up at night. Obviously the drought was noticeable, the gumwoods looked dried up, and I could see there was no water in the dam. I spent a while wondering round the fig tree, and up behind the house where the goats used to be, watching the red cardinals and java sparrows, looking across to the familiar Prince Andrew School and Francis Plain....and enjoying the warmth and familiar smells. I felt so at home. I could imagine myself rolling down the hill to my Aunts...but restrained myself.

Seeing my cousins again was amazing; and their children! I spent a lot of time at one cousins house, entertaining her children with my flute (and her recorder). I miss her a lot. I also spent a lot of time down at my aunties, listening to my uncle argue with the radio, nothing has ever changed in her house, it was all so comforting. I could spend hours there. And in fact did have my last cup of tea on the island with her :(

I soon caught up with old friends, and had such a lovely time going out in town with them (although Jamestown is certainly party capital of the South Atlantic...nothing quiet like here (!)). I was reminded of how much Saints love to party, drink, and dress up. I spent a lot of time with one particular friend, and her family at her house in New Ground. She is still on my side, and I miss her so much. Without her, I dont know how I would have coped. She stuck by me till the very end x

She cooked me so much fish I was at risk of turning into a tuna by the time I left, she even left dinner on my doorstep from time to time! And we spent several days escaping the stresses in the "outdoor human washing machine" that is Rupert's Bay; rough sea but therapeutic and worth the bruises from rocks thrown at you.

I struggled with the ladder this time, think ive developed vertigo in my age :/ But did it once :) I spent a lot of time just wondering remembering the way through plantation to Scotland, exploring other forest paths, saying hi to Jonathon who now is kept away from public (good idea with tourists due to arrive). I could spend hours in those woods, down with the giant bamboo at the Butchers Graves, or up at the bench at Stone Top with the views to sea and Plantation house. I also walked along the road towards Casons (lovely spring water - much needed in drought!), and further towards my favourite part of the Island - Blue Hill. I love the rolling rugged landscape, the mist (not just a Scottish thing), id quite often make it to the donkey sanctuary (a new thing since my last visit but good to see), then as far as Peakdale past Fairy land with the wonderful views down to Sandy Bay, but due to so much road walking was too tired to go much further (!). There is a bus service of sorts now, but it takes a few days to decipher the timetable, and its not comprehensive. I still enjoyed the roads though, and did climb the short distance onto High Peak a couple of times, the other side of which endemics are now being established.

I also never tired of walking towards High Knoll,along the road from white gate; and making my way up there with the assistance of Aloe walking poles. I could sit up there for hours watching the sea, feeling like I belonged, and at the same time was so far from anywhere, I could see so much sea. And from the other end of the fort were views to the Peaks, Peak Dale, and High Peak. The views are 360 degrees. One of the Island best spots. And with my Aunty just half way up, was a good place to be :) The little shop is still there and was my place to go to stock up on Nosh bars ;)

I walked through HTH several times to see my Nana, but with traffic now, and the steepness going back (manageable, but slightly insane even for me), I timed it mainly with visits with my Aunt from next door. I tried to see my Nana as much as possible, at least twice a week at first. It was good to be able to help her, as she now struggled in the toilet, and with her clothes, and never liked to ask for help. One of my most treasured memories of my Nana was when she asked me if I ever had a job in nursing, because I was "very good at pulling up knickers" :D I was just glad I was able to help her with these things after not seeing her for so long. I showed her pictures of bread id baked in her house (bought bread is expensive and crap), and a few others although she struggled sometimes with eyesight. I managed to use up my entire first aid kits worth of dressings on her legs (!)....I guess they needed using at some point. There were times when she was hospitalised so I visited her there instead. She seemed to prefer it there; I got the impression that she wasnt really happy being in the CCC. Im so glad I made the decision to go back, otherwise I would never have seen my Nana again. Another of my favourite memories is when I went with her to visit her brother in Deadwood, with one of the workers who was his grandaughter (so related to me...), she hadnt been there in several years, and he was now 80. It was a lovely day, and she seemed so happy to be there.

There are so many memories of my time.....as due to the ship being dry docked and the airstrip on Ascension Closing, I had a longer stay than planned. But other special highlights for me were seeing an actual spiky yellow woodlouse in the peaks; I had the honour to write about these - Britains most endangered invertebrate for OCR Exam board a while back, when I was writing about a place threatened with change (where better than St Helena with its new airport?). I couldnt believe my eyes. Was one of the best moments of my entire life. Seeing the spiky yellow one in real life :) I also befriended the cuddliest sheep ever whilst at the veterinary dept. I played my flute for Prince Andrew school in an assembly, and offered lessons (including my sea shanty......to later discover none of them knew what a sea shanty was). I also played it to mark Napoleons death at his tomb in a natural amphitheatre in Longwood; I played a duet with someone on a large recorder then tried my best at the French National Anthem....not so good (!). Eventually a friend professionally recorded my sea shanty for me, as I had written it to mark the last ever voyage of the RMS St Helena; it was quite comical as we had both just been soaked by a massive freak wave, and were recording it in St Johns church whilst dripping wet, water everywhere. Had to wring out my clothes and hair. But we got it recorded. I did a few walks with this friend too, who also stuck by me, out to blue point, (I had done this with an Aunt, but the only views we had were of "signs"!), magical views from this new walk. And of course Flagstaff. I did Fairyland with another friend and couldnt tempt her to walk down to Lot ;)

I dont like planes....but I did witness the South African Airlink doing a test flight, and a few others which I felt essential due to the historical aspect. And started a sponsored walk for the Invertebrate trust from the Airport down to the Harbour in Town.

I also helped another friend with her newly set up Ballet Classes in town, something I had always wanted to be able to do myself there one day. So I had become involved in so much during my stay, all before the "incident" happened....that changed my life forever....and robbed me of this "home".

I wont explain the incident yet...but all I will say is it was horrific, left me in Brick House Safeguarding house for a couple weeks, with a police investigation with CID, after several tests in the hospital which took about 7 hours. I was then more or less alone. My family had gone....well they were still there, but I hardly saw any of them. I soon became aware of the Islands "dark side" sadly....I became very aware. I felt totally alienated, and shamed by family and society. Nearly everyone. For what I had reported.

I had reported it in a place where it is not considered a "crime" as such, but more.....the norm. And where women are seemingly always to blame. I felt like I had gone back in time perhaps. It was totally surreal and doubly traumatising on top of what had already happened to me. Everyone knew about it in no time, without me telling them. Everyone also became aware of my medical history without me telling them. I was invited so I thought to an Aunts for Easter Sunday....only to find out they got me out of the safe house on purpose to force me to speak to my abusive family 5000 miles away in the UK., who shouted at me for what seemed like an hour or more, about causing so much damage, making people sick, and abusing authorities. My Aunts also wanted to know everything in detail. I felt I was being judged by everyone, with people saying things just didnt add up, and it didnt make sense. One of my aunts told me she could hear the banging on the windows before it happened, which id told the police, and later denied this completely. Making me have to contact CID ASAP because I had either mis heard her, or she had changed her story. I was told by an Aunt that my cousin denied hearing the banging and shouting.....and that all she could hear was gentle tapping and someone calling my name softly. I felt like everyone had it in for me. And nobody believed me. I had endured that for nearly 12 hours, and no one believed me.

Back at the safe house I was reassured and learned a lot more sadly about the dark side of the island and its secrets. I am forever grateful for the people there, and for my friends who still managed to ignore people and visit me, and spend time with me after this happened. I had a meeting with family before I left the house....and it was hoped I could stay with someone, but they made it very clear that they were not my "real family", just my mothers sisters. It was very hurtful to hear that...and to know that they did not even feel able to visit me in the house alone afterwards. One aunty even said how much time id spent with her, but she wouldnt feel comfortable with me anymore. I felt literally like Id been thrown out by my family, id done something terrible to them all, let them all down, insulted the whole island. Thats how it felt. I was experiencing full on "victim blaming" at its worst. But even though I understand the culture, thats still very difficult to deal with. And unexpected.

I felt dirty, disgusted with myself, ashamed, and alone. I do know other women came forward after me though, so I feel like I had to go through all of this to help others. Who had waited over 20 years. I feel like I was destined to meet certain people, and to develop such a strong bond with them. The rest of my time on the island I was so isolated, with no one wanting to speak with me, family members even avoiding me in town (!), everyone either avoiding me, or wanting to know why I let it happen. They made it very clear that I had spoiled their family home in the process. It was a nightmare being back in the house where it happened alone, and admittedly I did have panic attacks, which attracted attention from services who told my family they had to be firm with me and that I made things up. I shut myself in the kitchen. I had no where else to go.

A week later my Nana died. I knew she had been looking for me for 3 weeks but I wasnt feeling strong enough to see her. She would have known something was wrong, and I could not let my Nana know at 94 what had happened in her own house. I attended her funeral, but felt unwanted and alone, even though my whole family were there. But I do know a good friend came along just to support me, and I am so grateful to her. I took a wreath I had made myself out of the monkey toe hedge in her garden. I was devastated that I hadnt had chance to see her again after all that happened.....but how im glad I went back when I did to see her at all....

It was through this whole experience that I now know what I do about the investigations into child abuse, sexual abuse in general, and the scandals through all the inexcusable Government cover-ups. I cannot forgive my own Government. See other posts for further information on this. And im still suffering the effects of the "victim blaming" culture....along with the trauma....to this date. I wont write anymore here - I will describe my unexpected but therapeutic journey back in another post...and the reason I admire South Africa as much as I do.

The family issue hasnt stopped when I left the Island, it has continued to effect the way I am treated by professionals in this country who havent a clue about the culture. And since the perpetrator took his life by hanging when told eventually that it would go to court (after the police accidentally erased my 3 hour video), I have still heard nothing. And knowing what I do now, he will remain innocent. This is Saint logic. Sad but true. I didnt get justice for myself or the other women....he stole it - unable to face public shame (hardly any convictions are made, but with so much evidence and an uncle already in prison...he knew he wouldnt get away with it against all the odds). Society has since blamed us women twice - firstly for reporting the crime.....then for his suicide.

I have still heard nothing from family. The police rarely kept in touch with me. Here I am, in the UK - the Motherland Governing St Helena....and letting it down to this extent. I later found out my social worker had lost her job, and the detective had been pushed out too (women). This is a trend unfortunately when things are exposed.

I now trust very very few people. My adopted home and family....I see as South Africans in South Africa at the moment...as that was my relief from this. Albeit short term.

My Poem to my People was a desperate attempt to reach out to anybody who might have forgiven me / felt able to speak to me again.....I was met with silence. I never heard from a sole. My family are gone, many friends are gone, my name is blackened on the Island, and I dont belong anywhere.

My sense of belonging....has been stolen for ever.

But yes....I still miss St Helena sooooo much...and its people :(

Thank you for reading - and if you were one of the few who supported me...thank you so much xxx