Daddy
My biological father was Victor Bert Grant. Daddy was born on the 17th August, 1925. Daddy was the only child born in Green Island, Hanover, Jamaica to my grandmother Hannah May and otherwise known as ‘Auntie May’ and Caleb Grant. They were not married which I found strange as Auntie May was very religious. When I asked her about this, Auntie May told me some things which I can’t corroborate and I did not record her so I will not mention them. If your parents are still alive, I suggest recording their life story. I know nothing about my grandfather Caleb Grant. I never met him and Daddy never spoke about him. Daddy never talked about his childhood so the little I know came from Auntie May.
When Daddy was born, children out of wedlock in law were labelled ‘Bastards’. Daddy therefore was a Bastard. Mommy said Daddy lived up to his name! More about that later on. Auntie May ended up on a piece of land in St. Mary. Basically, Auntie May was a peasant. As a child, my sister Janice and I used to go there often. I remember a big two room wooden shack with the wooden floors so shine….Auntie May used to use a brush made from the shell of coconuts on her land to hand shine the floor on her hands and knees. There was no electricity and no plumbing. ‘Home Sweet Home’ kerosene lamps were the only light. The outhouse was the toilet. Auntie May did everything on the land herself. She used to tramp around in some big rubber water boots. Other times, she went barefoot. Daddy apparently grew up there. How a pregnant young girl survived on her own in that bush is still beyond me but she survived.
Daddy claims he walked several miles to school – each way. Before going to school, he had to wake up very early and deal with the cow. Milking and moving the cow and calf to be tied in another area to feed for the day The cow had a calf which was his. Somehow, Daddy was ‘bright’ and thrived. After finishing school, his destiny should have been to help Auntie May on the farm but Auntie May would have none of that. Over the years, despite her extreme poverty, she had scrimped and scraped and saved. The cows were sold and somehow Daddy was sent to England. How Daddy survived in England is not known to me but England was a very racist place at the time. Daddy and I were estranged for a large part of my life and we only reconciled a short time before his premature and sudden death so I never got the whole story. The story of our estrangement also comes up later.
Our Family in Sierra Leone: 1957 - 1961
Somehow, Daddy studied law in England and became a Barrister (a senior or higher level of lawyer) called to the British Bar. Daddy briefly practiced in Jamaica as a prosecutor and became famous for the ‘Headless Corpse’ case – the first case in Jamaica to use forensic science for a conviction. Daddy was a Prosecutor and I think he became a Resident Magistrate – a judge. Jamaica was still a British Colony at the time. He was apparently a brilliant legal mind and the British Colonial Office sent Daddy to Sierra Leone in Africa to become its first Attorney General from 1957 to 1961. Not sure when but Daddy was awarded Queen’s Council by the British Crown. Daddy became Victor Grant Q.C. Daddy was responsible to help the government of Sierra Leon develop its legal system prior to it being granted Independence from Britain in 1961.
Because Mommy had left and divorced Daddy when I was quite young (about 2 yrs old) for adultery I think. My sister would have been a newborn. I asked Mommy several times why she divorced Daddy but she refused to talk about it. What she did tell me is that Daddy was lucky to get her as men fought over her. Mommy told me that two men actually nearly had a duel over her once with guns and everything. Mommy had an interesting life too but her story is for another time. Watch for it.
Daddy had very little to do with us for most of my life. Mommy was a proud woman and would not seek or accept a dime from Daddy to support us so that made money tight for Mommy – even though Daddy was rich. I remember a couple rare visits by Daddy when he would give me 5 shillings (50 cents), go in the bedroom with Mommy and lock the door. Mommy never usually locked her door so I would cry and bang on the door. One day, I figured out how to open the lock and went in. Daddy was in bed with Mommy. I jumped into the bed too but Mommy got mad and ordered me out. Mommy then put a dead bolt on her room door ☹
Daddy was trying to re-unite with Mommy and I know Mommy loved Daddy like she has never loved anyone else because she told me so. Daddy broke her heart never to be repaired again. Why she never re-united with Daddy is a mystery to me. I suspect pride. Men, including a millionaire white man from Texas who I really liked, tried and tried to date Mommy. She only laughed at them. I tried to play Cupid a couple of times but Mommy would have none of it. I had Uncle Max as a father figure and Uncle Charlie and Uncle Hugh (the hummer) but I wanted a Daddy of my own like all of my other cousins…
Mommy sent me and my sister Janice to Suthermere Prep School which was a very good school in the heart of Half-Way-Tree. We lived in Kencot in a large house with my uncle Max, Aunt Ethel, their 4 sons Richard, David (identical twins), Donald (Donnie), Douglas and Aunt Ethel’s mother simply called ‘Grandma’ or ‘Miss Walker’. Crowded place…I remember sleeping in a crowded room with my cousins who became like my brothers. The house was about 3 miles away from school and we all walked to and from school in a group – six children. More about my childhood at another time…..When I was finishing Suthermere, Mommy was broke and told me that she could not afford to pay to send me to high school. Sometimes, Mommy was so broke, when going to and from work, she walked to and from Cross Roads from our home in Kencot (about 2 miles each way) in high heels to save ‘thrupence’ (3 cents) bus fare.
In those days, one had to pay to go to High School unless one passed an entrance exam. To this day, I am not sure what I was to do after Prep school but fortunately I passed the High School Common Entrance Exam at such a high grade that I was granted a full, boarding scholarship to Jamaica College (JC) – one of the best and most expensive schools in Jamaica at the time. I took the exam at 9 years old supposedly too young to take the exam..don’t know how that happened. JC was a tough boarding school. My story at JC is also a story for another time – filled with drama, suspension, fights, serious injury and triumph. For getting the scholarship, I got my first bicycle – paid for by Daddy who was in Africa. I was growing so fast, I outgrew it in a year. Mommy was elated about the scholarship and told Daddy who was in Africa by then so they were in touch. Next thing I know, Mommy asked me if I wanted to go to Africa. Of course I did. So, at 9 years old, unaccompanied, I flew to London from Kingston. Then from London to somewhere in Germany to another African country then from that African country to Sierra Leone. All alone at 9 years old. All First Class as the flight attendants had to keep an eye on me. Paid for by the British Government. I remember throwing up on the plane. Apparently, Daddy’s family was entitled to free passage to and from Sierra Leone to spend time with him. I remember on the last leg of the journey to Sierra Leone, the African plane was a rickety prop plane with various small livestock on board – in the passenger cabin! I remember chickens and goats. The African women also cooked on open coal fires inside the cabin. They had open barbeque type coal stoves roasting and boiling various African foods – in the passenger compartment! As I had never been on a plane before, I thought that was normal. Airport security was different in those days… The African people were very friendly. I did not speak a lick of African but we had a ball. I played with the goats and chickens on the plane.
When I arrived in Sierra Leone, the ‘airport’ was a tin shack with dirt floors. The ‘Immigration/Customs Officer wore a dirty shirt and shorts. The airport seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a jungle. The roads were unpaved in those days. The plane arrived shortly before nightfall. Daddy was nowhere to be seen. There was a single shuttle bus taking the passengers and airport workers home to the city. They were locking up the ‘airport’ shack and I would just have to wait outside – alone with two suitcases at 9 years old in the dark – no lights, in the middle of the jungle? No thank you. I boarded the bus even though I did not know where I was going. As the bus drove along, I looked out the window and saw a limo speeding in the opposite direction towards the airport in a cloud of dust. Inside the back of the limo was Daddy. He did not see me in the bus. The bus kept going, refusing to stop in the dark saying it was not safe and they had to catch the last ferry. Ferry? The bus drove on to a ferry. This was the last ferry. Daddy would be marooned at the airport all night until the next ferry the following morning. What would happen to me overnight? Nine years old, in a strange city in Sierra Leone, in the middle of the night and I did not speak the local language…..
Daddy arrived at the airport and not seeing me, he realized that I must have been on the bus he passed. He drove back at breakneck speed to the ferry which was pulling away at the time. I remember Daddy jumping the barrier and jumping across about six feet of water on to the ferry. The ferry was ordered to turn around so he could get his car on board. They complied. He was the Attorney General after all.
Daddy lived in a huge mansion, a government house in the city of Freetown, Sierra Leone in the bush which I now know was the jungle. At nights, I used to hear animals roaring and groaning. On my first day, I was peeing only to see, mid-pee, a large snake coiled up to the backside of the toilet. It freaked me out and I ran, dribbling dick in hand screaming. One of the calico clad house boys in shorts ran in with a machete and chopped it to pieces. I remember monkeys who were very tame. As I ate breakfast with Daddy’s Secretary on the upstairs terrace, I would feed the monkeys. Consequently, the monkeys loved me, perched on my shoulders and followed me around. Monkeys were everywhere. I think Daddy’s secretary may have slept at the house sometimes as she would be at the house when I went to bed and she was there when I woke up in the morning. However, every time I saw her, she was well dressed.
Daddy’s Secretary’s name I have forgotten but she was gorgeous, very black, slim with a beautiful smile. I lost all our pictures….Daddy had taste. He had first married my beautiful Mom after all. All his wives were gorgeous. Daddy’s secretary was very nice to me. She took me under her wing as Daddy was very busy. She drove a convertible MG so we sped around Sierra Leone together. We had a ball. She gave me my first beer. I was not quite 10 years old. She was his Secretary but did not work in the office while I was there….
A few years ago, I happened to mention Daddy to a colleague in Yellowknife who was originally from Sierra Leone. She got all excited and told me that Daddy was famous there and that he had ‘a whole family’ in Sierra Leone. According to her, I have brothers and sisters in Sierra Leone who she knew! She gave me some contact info and I wrote letters. Never heard anything back. At the time, Sierra Leone was in the middle of a bitter tribal civil war so the mail system was pretty broken. One day, I hope to go back to Sierra Leone as it is peaceful now. Very poor but peaceful. Maybe I can find my siblings there?
I remain in voluntary self-isolation in Calgary so thanks for reading my writing therapy.
Next - Daddy Part II - Daddy in Politics
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