Autumn is here, the gusts carry a multitude of leaves that settle a few meters away. In the streets, it is no more than a formless sludge, in the gardens, they cover the floors with a patchwork carpet. The wind is cooler, the days much shorter. In the light of the oil lamp I immerse myself in Catherine’s documents: John ROE (1772-1850).
It’s almost cold tonight, a log, twigs, a match, the cracking of the small wood that ignites, the glow that dances in the hearth, the heat on my face fill me with a numbness that I know well. I pull the meridian in front of the fire and settle in. Sleep wins me over. NO, get up! You’ve got a lot to do. I file the documents in front of me: almanacs, Jamaican and English acts. I’ll see what I can get out of these pages.
On the yearbook of 1805, it is noted that he is military, Assistant Surgeon. I also have a book called “Centre for the Study of the Legacies of British Slavery”.
I’ll start by looking at baptisms, marriages, and deaths. Records are properly maintained. The race, the name of the father are noted and sometimes the mother if she is from known family. On some plantations slaves bear the name of their master and English names are given to them.
I can rely on Mary’s baptismal certificate on October 28, 1806 in Kingston. This is the daughter of Isabella COAKLEY a free quadroom (1/4 of black blood) and John ROE
From 1806 to 1814 he had 4 other children with Isabella.
The following year, he married Hannah MEEK in England, and he needed heirs.
His daughter Maria was born in Kingston in December1816. Hannah’s father is a well-known planter.
From 1815 to 1819 he owned the “Belgar” plantation at Saint Thomas in the Vale parish which was included in St Catherine’s.
From 1816 to 1826 he was co-owner of the Caenwood Estate in St George with his father-in-law John MEEK. At his death, he became the sole owner until his departure for France.
On the yearbook of 1817, I discover that He is one of the doctors of the Kingston prison, he also takes care of vaccination and practises in the public hospital.
In 1826, when his father-in-law died, he still practised and became the sole owner of the plantations.
According to this document, the estate of Caenwood Estate was not only managed by John MEEK and John ROE but also by lawyers. In 1835 when John had his will drawn up, he did not talk about this possession, he had to sell it around 1834.
In 1835, he emigrated to France and bought a property in Saint-Martin-Boulogne near Boulogne sur Mer. His daughter, his son-in-law and his parents also settled in the area.
He died in 1850 at Boulogne sur Mer. His wife, daughter and granddaughter left for England. I was able to determine her year of birth by age on the day she died.
Now that the clutter of my thoughts is placed neatly on these leaves, I can afford to rest. An hour and a half! I’m gonna be fresh today. The fire goes out, I put a big log in it. In the chimney, on the ground, a pot of bacon soup is waiting for me to serve. A full plate with the bread bought in the morning and I feel full, I just have to go to bed. I close the curtains made of heavy velvet. The wind makes the butcher’s sign creak, the noise is sinister. Quick, get to bed!
Morpheus is at the rendezvous. He takes me, takes me, takes me, but where? It is extremely hot and humid, thousands of orange trees surround me, a woman sings in the distance, I recognize this type of melody, I am in Jamaica. I walk towards this wonderful voice that rhymes the work on the plantation. It’s time to gather, almost all the slaves are at work, a foreman picks up the latecomers. The owners do not live there, he makes me call the carriage that leads me to Kingston. I’m dressed for the occasion. A skirt and a shirt in fine cotton soft green, the skirts and other obligatory outfits, a hat with wide rim and an umbrella of the same green complete my outfit.
I arrive in a city where men, women of different ranks, conditions and races meet. The carriages, the transport of goods, in all this hubbub, the cry of a merchant arouses my curiosity, I make my way among the people who cluster in front of his stall. Kid, I’m trying to get as close as I can. The man in front of me is moving, I’m horrified! Reading the word slave on a document is one thing, but watching the sale of human beings is another. To describe what I am witnessing is impossible for me, my whole being refuses it.
I’m going to join John and Hannah ROE. I explain what I just saw and how I felt. For their part, they were raised with the idea that these colored people have no soul and are worth less than an animal. For decades, slave traders have propagated this belief.
But by working alongside and working with this people from Africa, they have come to know them, to see in their eyes, in their way of living the same humanity as that of the whites, and thus to better consider them. Traditions and customs are rooted in people’s minds, and they must abide by them in order not to be excluded from their communities. Unfortunately, they know landowners who brutalize their slaves. On the other hand, others require, by will, that their heirs treat them well or lose them.
This interview makes my hosts uncomfortable, so I deviate from the conversation about the profession of prison doctor, the contest in which he participates for his orangery, his daughter and France. Yes, France where they plan to settle. I tell them about my region, the rain, the wind, the cold. All words that make the couple shudder with happiness. I try to bring up the discussion about his life before the army, his studies but his answers are as nebulous as his English origins. We’re still drooling for a while but their voices are drifting away, I know what that means, I’ll wake up…
My God, ten o’clock!
A rebrousse temps généalogie 