My first impression of St. Helena was of black rock and toilet paper.
Toilet Paper
My son, Finn, was first to spot St. Helena’s mountain lights during his midnight watch. When I came on for my 3 – 6 am watch, I got to see the sun rise on the black cliffs.
Upon stepping to shore I felt the land moving under my feet. After 12 days at sea, I was literally swaying while the terra firma stood still. We walked past double decker containers stacked by cranes off the cargo ships we had seen along the Atlantic crossing. This was James Bay, opening up to the only town in St. Helena, Jamestown. We walked the wharf to check in at immigration just as three men loaded a fork lift with a 6 x 6’ palette of toilet paper. As we watched, the fork lift slipped and a mountain of slippery tp packages tumbled off. I couldn’t help laughing as I snapped this picture. The men saw me and pointed laughing. “You caught it on camera!”
A few hours later, I saw a government employee toting a bundle of that toilet paper from the container to his office. Every public restroom I visited was empty of tp. Was this a long-awaited shipment?
The Saints
The ethnic makeup of the Saints, as the Saint Helenians call themselves, is dark skinned, a sort of combination of Indian or Spanish or African. I wasn’t sure. Our tour guide, Robert, told me he is half Chinese and half Indian. Surprising, but once he said that I could see it.
Robert gave us a taxi cab tour of the island, showing us the peaks of this black rock; the volcanic crater ringed with bizarre rocky turrets named Lot and Lot’s wife. He showed us how to harvest the fibers from abundant, huge flax plants; he took us to Napoleon’s tomb and the Longwood mansion/prison where Napoleon lived out his exile. He pointed out the Boers’ prison camp where the Brits imprisoned the Dutch during the South African or Boer war. And Robert took us to my favorite spot, the British governor’s mansion where a 191-year-old Seychelles-imported tortoise lumbered around the yard.
The Garden
This mansion offered the highlight of my St. Helena experience and it wasn’t because of the tortoises. As we walked along the path to view the huge reptiles, we saw below us the mansion gardens, carefully tended ruby Swiss chard, cabbages bigger than basketballs, onions in careful rows, dirt-encrusted potatoes laying harvested in piles. And all around the garden wild nasturtiums wreathed the edges.
I hollered out a greeting and compliment of the garden. The gardner (Pat) and I chatted a little bit and I asked if any of his produce was for sale.
“No.” The gardener shouted said. Pause. “Unless you want some onions. I could get you three onions.”
To be honest, I have over 25 onions in storage ready for our next two-week passage to Brazil. But these are South African onions (already two weeks old). So, the lure of fresh onions from the volcanic soil of St. Helena overcame me and I shouted back, “I would love some! What can I pay you for them?”
Gardener Pat shook his head and began pulling onions, “No payment. But, you’ll have to clean them yourself. I can get you three,” he shouted up to us over his shoulder.
In my eagerness I hopped the fence and nearly fell into a two foot hole. “Go around,” the gardener said, pointing ahead to an overgrown path that led down a set of grassy steps.
I ran down and he greeted me with a fist-full of freshly picked onions. They smelled so sweet. Then, I saw his lemongrass and commented how my mother used to make tea from the leaves. “Would you like some?” Pat asked. I nodded starry-eyed.
Pat reached down and pulled a dozen rooted bulbs from the base of the lemongrass and handed them to me. “What can I give you for these?” I asked.
“No, nothing, they are a gift,” Pat said pausing and tapping his chest. “They are from my heart.”
My son, Finn, had walked down with me and we carried our green treasures up and out of the Governor’s garden, toted their green abundance along the rest of our taxi cab tour, walking them down the wharf, onto the water taxi and now they sit on Lady Grey. I made some lemongrass tea tonight, it reminds me of the best moments of my childhood.
Hungry
Growing up, I heard stories of being left without enough food, of being an infant left for too long with my grandmother without formula, or bottle. My grandmother told me once she and my grandpa (Papì) took me as a barely two-year-old grocery shopping. But I was so hungry I grabbed an onion and tried to sink my teeth into it. “Nunch,” I cried for lunch when they took the onion away from me.
“We forgot to feed you,” she apologized.
Here’s a picture of me holding the onions Pat gifted me, the mansion and tortoises are in the background. I used these onions to create a new dish for dinner tonight.
Once back on board Lady Grey, Ollie and Dale threw their rods into the ocean while I made relish. Before we had finished dinner, we had pulled in four fish, the last one, a 18-inch cod will be on the menu tomorrow with this relish.
I created this tomato relish and last night it made a refreshing accompaniment to our hot dog braii (the South African word for barbecue).
Tomato Relish
4 ripe tomatoes
1 fresh white onion (white parts diced, green stem sliced)
3 T white wine vinegar
3 T mayonnaise
1 garlic clove diced
1 t cane sugar
1 t kosher salt
1/2 t cracked pepper
1 can water packed tuna (drained) or fresh tuna if you can catch some.
Stir and let flavors marinate for 30 minutes.
Grill hot dogs and warm buns over an open flame and then layer a bed of relish in before adding dog.
News and Events
As a way to share my life on Lady Grey, to enjoy some time with you, my extended community, I’m creating seasonal private Zoom parties. I’d love to formally and officially invite you!
These Zoom events offer a relaxed time to ask questions, hear more of my traveling reflections, see my newest paintings and gain exclusive access to my limited edition prints. If you’d like an invite, just reply to this email with a simple word “Invite me!” and I’ll add you to the list.
Next Zoom party in late January!
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I’m so glad to have your along this adventure with me!
