THE MAD WOMAN OF PUNNET’S TOWN

This morning, I stumbled across this poem in my files and thought that we Punnett women should start a tradition of being photographed as so vividly described by L.A.G. Strong!  Really!  I have no such photos but am posting a few Punnett women below anyway, and am sending out a call for pics of wonderfully mad Punnett women - I celebrate our vitality and joy!

THE MAD WOMAN OF PUNNET’S TOWN

A-swell within her billowed skirts

     Like a great ship with sails unfurled,

The mad woman goes gallantly

     Upon the ridges of her world.

With eagle nose and wisps of grey

       She strides upon the westward hills,

Swings her umbrella joyously

       And waves it to the waving mills.

Talking and chuckling as she goes,

        Indifferent both to sun and rain,

With all that merry company:

         The singing children of her brain.

L.A.G. Strong

Leonard Alfred George Strong (1896-17 August 1958) was an English writer, born in Plymouth of a half-Irish father and Irish mother, and was educated at Brighton College and at Wadham College, Oxford (Open Classical Scholar) where he came under the influence of W. B. Yeats. Some of his poems were set to music by Arthur Bliss, as was this one.
Per “Biography” Great Authors of World Literature, Critical Edition Ed. Frank Northen Magill, “Outstanding among his poems are “An Old Woman, Outside the Abbey Theatre,” which is epigrammatically ironic in a manner worthy of William Butler Yeats, and “The Mad Woman of Punnet’s Town,” which depicts vitality and joy.”

from top, left to right…
Rachael Punnett, daughter of Malcolm Punnett; Brenda Punnett.
Maureen Kirkwood, daughter of Thelma Punnett (1940-1949), older sister of Jack, Langley, Duncan and Chris.
Punnett girls – Zen (daughter of Malcolm), Gemma (daughter of Mark), Kate and Sophie (daughters of Paddy).

One love! Lisbie x

Rhoda Isaacs Samuel (Cus)

Some more stories of Rhoda Isaacs Samuel (Cus) before they are forgotten!

Cus’s expressions were varied and my favourite was when she lit her clay pipe and started to relate incidents of her childhood and adolescence to whoever was interested.  i was one of those who could listen to her for hours as she was so captivating.  Many of us remember her collection of drinking glasses which occupied a large space in her living area.  She said that every visit she made to Kingstown , a glass was bought so that she could have a drink of water.  Her partner of many years, St Clair Samuel (Tin) enjoyed drinking rum, and when he became drunk, many of her glasses were broken!  There were so many that no dent was made to the collection.  They were of all shapes and colours.  She always wore a ‘head tie’ that was large and starched to perfection , showing off several styles of intricate tying.

Cus had never left the mainland so Dave Dunn to whom i was married invited her to spend a couple weeks with us in our Bamboo HOuse on Mustique, where we were working.  Dave accompanied her from Arnos Vale Airport on the tiny airplane , a 10 minute or so flight, which was a happy time for her.  We drove her all over the island,  she accompanied me on my afternoon walks with our Alsatian and Siamese cat, she enjoyed the rich  hotel food that Dave brought home each night, accompanied by wine and brandy and a cigar!  One day before she returned home, driving along she saw a wild goat kid on the dry hillside.  Dave asked her if she would like to have it and we all took off to capture it .  It was caught and she named it, "Fine Em".  It went on the plane with her and became her precious pet.

Until next time,

Brenda

Queensbury memories…

Despite being born into a family who have for generations made their living through agriculture, I am entirely without agricultural instincts. Plants and animals make good scenery in my estimation but I don’t wish to take care of them, nor would anyone trust me to do so! But, I do have happy memories of excitedly running down what I think is the north-eastern side of Twenty Hill, through Uncle Langley’s banana fields, across the river and along the Valley Road to scamper up the steep incline to Queensbury Old House, where we would be allowed to assist in collecting the eggs from Auntie Eileen’s chickens. No one else we knew had a commercial chicken operation and we considered it quite the privilege to have this access!

Cuz would always provide us with snacks and drinks, but I was terrified of her! She could be really quite fierce in demeanour. While Auntie Eileen never demonstrated any disapproval of us, Daddy’s second family, I was never sure that Cuz was as comfortable with the permissiveness of us traipsing through her mistress’s domain. Mark and John spent more time at Queensbury than I did, and I think both had childhood jobs with Auntie Eileen.

Cuz adored the Queensbury siblings, but I think was quite stern with them too. There was a story that used to be told about her insistence that the children speak standard English and not the English patois we all were comfortable with when consorting with the estate workers. We might, for example, say, “Ah we ah go dung de road”. So, when Robin one day asked his mother, “Mummy, are we going to town?” Cuz immediately admonished him, “Mister Rabbins, yuh mus not said ah we, yuh must said, ‘Mammy, is we going to town’”!

I think it must have been Cuz that one time answered the telephone and told Daddy that Brenda Hazell was on the line for him. Daddy, busy with something, told her to say he wasn’t at home, and she went back and reported that “Mister Chris say to tell you he not at home”!

Cuz, childless, must have been in her sixties when she married her long-time companion, Queensbury overseer St.Clair “Tin” Samuel, after his wife died. Our whole family attended the traditional wedding. Cuz was attired in bridal white complete with veil. When the minister extended the blessing that the marriage be as fruitful as the grape vines, Mummy, in one of the front pews, shook with barely suppressed giggles, which guests from the villages apparently took as emotional wedding sobs, and evidence that it was a successful “nice wedding”.

One other Cuz story I remember was when she asked one of the “yard boys” who attended her to get her “two breadfruit”. He did as she asked and she was furious that he had brought her “two, bare two, breadfruit” – two simply meant to indicate more than one! 

Those estate homes were not luxurious but they had wonderful atmosphere, and I cherish those memories of Queensbury. After Auntie Eileen built her lovely modern home, an elderly couple, the Müllers I think, lived in the old house.  I believe he was brother to Archie Casson’s mother, from Schleswig Holstein, Germany.  The story goes that, after they had moved on to Britain, the octogenarian gentleman was found chasing a chambermaid!   I had a very pleasant relationship with the lady and several times went up and sat with her reading and chatting, but I was so young it’s just an outline of a memory really.

One last story – this time one about the Cassons, whose name had been Corea. Apparently, on the day that the name change was effected, uncomprehending people in the courtyard were heard to comment on how scandalous it was that “all dis time Mistah Casson believe he puppa was Mistah Corea and only now he mumma tell he he really name Casson”!

These are trivial anecdotes that amused us but I really don’t know that they stand the test of time and context.  I guess I leave that to each of you to decide!

One Love,
Lisbie x

Chris Punnett on floor at Queensbury, with Polish friend Maciej Zweirs, doctor at Pembroke

Since my last letter, i have thought of several topics to write to you all.  But, as Auntie Lisbie suggested one in particular, here are my recollections of that day.

Life at the Old Yard, as it was lovingly referred to by everyone who knew it, was energising.  i believe this was because of the input of many workers, young and old, who devoted most of their time to the running of this unique home at Queensbury Estate.  The large variety of animals that were raised there made it the ideal place for children where they could get dirty and roam free! The three sons of Eileen (1921-      ) and Christopher (1922- 1977) were raised there in a very carefree environment, which did not meet with Eileen’s mother’s approval!

Rhoda Isaacs went to work on the estate as a young girl when cocoa was the main crop.  As a child she would roam the acreage with her father, Daggy, a renowned Bush Doctor, when he went gathering various plants with which he brewed his medicines for island wide distribution.  When Chris, at about 19 years old, was established at Queensbury by his father John (1881-1950).  Rhoda became one of the house servants, thus making her well equipped to become the nanny when Malcolm was born (1941-           ).   She took her role very seriously, and thus became more like a mother to the boys.  Eileen was free to enjoy her animals, horse back riding, tennis and socialising, knowing the children were in capable hands.

i’m fast forwarding to the year 1970-1 (?) after the  Old Yard house was no longer lived in, as by that time Eileen had built a new house further up the hill, where Guy and Lisa Walker now live.

Rhoda (Cus) and her nephew, Bump, continued living in the adjoining quarters, and estate work continued.  By that time i had returned from Bequia with my partner Ron Young, who was intrigued by Cus’s talent for storytelling, and great recall from her childhood association with Queensbury and neighboring Maloney.  He planned a big gathering of varied folks –  Twenty Hill, Pembroke, Penniston, Queensbury, old and current workers, and Roy Punnett (1909-1968) from Diamond Estate.  There were pots of calaloo soup, stewed meat, ground provisions etc , lots of alcohol and ice!  The old folks danced  in their old fashioned way which soon captivated the rest of the crowd,  nancy stories were told, old swankies (?) were sung.  Cus was the centre of attention and i can still feel the happiness that that gathering brought to us all.  She had her clay pipe constantly lit with the strong brand of “nigger head tobacco” that she was never without.  i don’t know the origin of that name, but that is what is was known by.

From that night the healthy energy started to dissipate, and has steadily continued, as it has for all the other Valley estates.

with love,
brenda

Eileen and Chris Punnett and their children at Queensbury.  Cousin Helen St Hill is also in the first photo.

Someone recently reassured me that “a life that touches others goes on forever” – small comfort when you are deprived of the physical presence of someone you love, and that person is deprived of life… but isn’t it marvellous to think that we don’t become extinct when we die… that our stories can extend our lives beyond the confines of our personal experience? I love that!  I suppose that is, in large part, what we hope to do with this collection of letters, to keep alive the essence and stories of family members through anecdotes.

My adored niece and godchild, Gemma, who was born to Kim and Mark 9 years after Daddy died, once vividly recounted to me a memory she had of her Grampa Chrissy, and she refused to believe she had never known him – he had remained that alive in our family, long after his physical presence was no more!  In my Sunday, October 18, 2015 letter I told a similar story about my own fond but false memories – a testament to the power of stories in our lives.

I do believe that a life that touches others really does go on – even beyond memory, in defining family traits, characteristics and behaviours, and also in the wisdom imparted by the conduct of others, the tales told, the events observed and absorbed.  I don’t know what parts of who I am came from the ancestors, but I would hope to have been infected with at least some measure of the courage, joie de vivre, kindness, fairness and decency with which my parents lived their lives.  They were flawed and deeply good people, and I see them in my siblings, and in their children.  And I hear about the impact they made on others whose lives they touched, which has had a hand in the shape of later generations. That all makes me both proud and hopeful.

“Memory is a child walking along a seashore. 
You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.”
Pierce Harris

One love!  

Lisbie x

Ruth Pamer Darwent Punnett and Christopher Alexander Punnett

This morning, just as I was wondering what topic I would use in my letter, stretched on my bedroom balcony was my "pet" snake as Bunny (Catherine) calls it.  It's known locally as a Congo snake, and it's not poisonous.  I first became aware of its presence about 5 months ago, and it's always around.  Most people I know do not like them and their first reaction is to kill them.  This one does not come inside the house, living only on the balconies and a terrace below.  Two years ago, there was another which only resided in my bedroom - on the window ledge inches from my head.  One day I found him dead on the tree outside the balcony.  It was sorely missed!  On this island we are blessed in many ways, one of them being that there is nothing poisonous to be afraid of.  Yesterday I was hearing that in certain forested areas, amadillos  have become a menace as they are destroying trees at an alarming rate.   Our black hawks and iguanas are disappearing due to out of season hunting.  Their meat is considered delicious and is exported illegally to Trinidad, I am told.  Hopefully, many of these species will be saved as the Vincentian Parrot (Amazona Guildingi) was , having been on the endangered list years ago.  Now, they are thriving well in our forests, thanks to a local and foreign team who worked vigilantly.  Until my next letter.

Before we go along too far, I need to say something about attribution.  The photographs which I am liberally sprinkling throughout these missives are from my collection - many of them saved digitally with no record of their source - my bad.  If I use one of your photos, please alert me and I will add attribution, assuming you're cool with me using your creation!

The Future

When I finally arrive there—
And it will take many days and nights—
I would like to believe others will be waiting
and might even want to know how it was.

So I will reminisce about a particular sky
or a woman in a white bathrobe
or the time I visited a narrow strait
where a famous naval battle had taken place.

Then I will spread out on a table
a large map of my world
and explain to the people of the future
in their pale garments what it was like—

how mountains rose between the valleys
and this was called geography,
how boats loaded with cargo plied the rivers
and this was known as commerce,

how the people from this pink area
crossed over into this light-green area
and set fires and killed whoever they found
and this was called history—

and they will listen, mild-eyed and silent,
as more of them arrive to join the circle,
like ripples moving toward,
not away from, a stone tossed into a pond.

by Billy Collins, from Aimless Love

Denise Hofflund Punnett, wife of our brother John, recently shared with us this YouTube video from 1940.

The photo below is one of the Kingstown market.  It predates me, but I can't hazard a guess as to when it might date back to - anyone?

Reading Brenda’s most recent letter sends my thoughts in all kinds of different directions.

One of the many legacies for which I am grateful is a keen appreciation for landscape. So often I’ve heard people say that they get used to a view – wonderful or awful – and virtually stop seeing it. That is not in the realms of possibility for me. In The Valley (the Buccament Valley, often referred to by people outside our family as the Punnett Valley, but never, ever by us; we mostly just called it The Valley), we always celebrated the magnificent setting in which we conducted our lives. That awareness of surroundings remains a vital part of my sense of wellbeing, and though I have not lived in The Valley for 35 years, it remains an essential part of who I am.

As Brenda said, we grew up at Twenty Hill… a property that Daddy bought from Uncle Langley, I believe. I think it must have been a part of Peniston Estate, which Uncle Langley ‘bought’ from his father as Daddy did Queensbury; Uncle Jack, Cane Grove; and Uncle Duncan, Pembroke – all estates in The Valley which had belonged to our grandfather, John Langley Punnett (1881 - 1950).

Twenty Hill was about 10 acres and the fairly primitive house was built by Daddy on the flattened top of a hill within The Valley, with 360 degrees of marvelous aspect. Over time you will no doubt hear more from us about the magic of Twenty Hill. We stayed there until Daddy’s mother died and he inherited her home, Hope House (on about 17 acres), in 1970. We moved to a larger, more finished house with electricity; but not even the thrill of flicking a switch to get bright light was enough to make up for the loss of our much loved childhood home. For decades we hankered for it, imagined re-purchasing it, and I know that it was only about 5 years ago that I accepted, in a dream, that Twenty Hill would never again be mine. But I can still feel the cool thrum of water in the external pipes that we clambered on to sneak in the window of my parents’ bathroom, the exhilaration of swinging way over the side of the hill off the cedar tree, the independence of climbing high up in the almond tree near to the End Room, my bedroom, with a book in hand and our whole world below me. I carry it all deep within me, beyond memory.

And the beat goes on! 

One love,
Lisbie x

As i embark on my second letter to you, i have to mention that the sunshine is brilliant, making the hillsides surrounding this valley perfectly clear.  Such a day reminds me of the description* made by John Anderson, Special Magistrate to St. Vincent for the Apprenticeship Period in about 1839.  He wrote that the Buccament Valley is one of the most beautiful sights he has seen, comparable to the Swiss Alps.  Quite a difference when he rode through, compared to how it is today – houses, of course, have sprouted throughout!

A couple days ago, Malcolm, eldest of the great uncles, talked about the wonderful times he had with another great uncle, Roger , in the United States , saying that whenever the two of them got together, pure joy resulted.  Last night, great uncle John spoke of an incident he remembers well.  He was about 9 or 10 years old and Malcolm in his early 20’s.  One day at 20 Hill, home of Chris and Ruth, John was near the pig pen, when Malcolm joined him and they had a conversation which made him feel so good that this much older brother took the time and interest to be alone with him.  John went on to mention that many years later, when Malcolm relinquished house, car etc. to begin living in a shack in the hills without running water and electricity, he visited him at Mount William to spend the day as he did not know when he might see him again.

That’s it for this week.

brenda

 *'The principal river on this side of the island is Buccamont. It is of considerable size. About three miles from the sea it divides into two branches which have their source at the base of the Bonhomme where their division takes place. The valley is the most beautiful and extensive in the island, well cultivated and containing 8 sugar estates ... The Bonhomme, which terminates the valley, is a grand and romantic object from every part of it. At the bottom is a fine bay where ships of a large burden may anchor.'

 

“The poetry of a people comes from the deep recesses of the unconscious,
the irrational and the collective body of our ancestral memories.”   

Margaret Walker

Generations of the Future, Greetings! 

I am Lisbie (Elizabeth Angela Donna Punnett), second child of Ruth Palmer Darwent and Christopher Alexander Punnett. Brenda has told you about Daddy’s first wife and children as well as of John Christopher Alexander, myself, and Stephen Mark Langley, the children of his second marriage. Mummy had also been married previously – first to American John Hersey Monroe Woods, with whom she had John Hersey Monroe (1943) and Roger Nicholas deBaskerville (1946); then to Trinidadian Albert Max Serrao, with whom she had Mary Catherine Ruth (1948), Esme Jean Lynn (1950), and Michael Albert Max (1951).

Reading Brenda’s opening letter and her description of the first time she met our youngest brother Mark, I was struck that my own very first memory is of Mark’s first day of school. I must have been 8, and most people seem to have memories that reach back further. Mind you, I have earnestly laid claim to memories of events which occurred before I was born! I think I have always been an attentive listener, and stories I heard became real to me in the telling and retelling. I remember arguing passionately with Mummy about some incident of which I had clear recall and Mummy insisting that these happenings predated my birth, rendering it impossible that I was present! Just shows you how fickle memory is!

Daddy had bought Queensbury Estate from his father (at a nominal price), and he and Auntie Eileen made their life there. When Daddy and Mummy married, Daddy left Queensbury and bravely set about finding some other way to make a living. At one time, he managed the Casson estates at Leeward - Mt. Wynne and Peter’s Hope - and some arrangement had been made for us to spend a few months away from home at one of the Casson bungalows in the grounds of the Great House at Arnos Vale. This is where we were staying when Mark started school at the St. Joseph’s Convent in 1965. There is a photo of me, in my Brownie uniform, standing next to Mark outside the house on that first day of school. I wonder why this day implanted itself more securely in my memory than all the previous days of my life?

I’m looking forward to sharing recollections, stories, and all manner of things with you as we continue to write these letters. The idea to do this was Brenda’s and I think comes from our own wish that we might have known more about the ancestors than names and dates on a family tree. That seems to me more urgent at a time when many of the youngest family members are being raised away from our West Indian roots. We have no particular plan or direction in mind, and the flow will most likely not be chronological; we'll just let it unfold as it will.   

Until next time, 
*One love,
Lisbie x

*The urban dictionary says “One love refers to the universal love and respect expressed by all people for all people, regardless of race, creed, or color.”
It was also a song recorded by Bob Marley and the Wailers in 1965

At almost 70 years old, my sister , another great aunt aged 58, and i , have thought about jotting down random thoughts and happenings from our past. So, here's a start to the ramblings of Lisbie (Elizabeth) and Brenda.

i was born in August, 1946 to Eileen Stephanie Fraser and Christopher Alexander Punnett. i am the third child of that union, preceded by Malcolm Alexander, Christopher Robin . A fourth child, Colin Langley was born later in 1949. My parents were very young, too young in my opinion for undertaking marriage and raising children. Anyway, they tried and stayed married for about 10 years, before divorcing, a rare happening on this tiny island. Christopher soon met his future wife, Ruth Darwent Serrao , whom , in my opinion was the 'love of his life'. Fortunately, Eileen and Chris remained friends,and so did Ruth and Eileen. John Alexander was born in 1954, followed By Elizabeth Angela in 1957, and in 1960 Mark Stephen arrived who was the 'angel' in his parents eyes.

During my boarding school years in Dublin , i received about two letters from Daddy. In the first, he informed me of Mark's birth in the following way: "Ruth produced a son, Mark Stephen on December 19, 1960." i did not meet Mark until 1963 when i returned to St Vincent for the summer holidays. One morning, whilst i was riding to 20 Hill to meet Mark, lo and behold, there he was walking with a cutlass in his hand, accompanied by Nalco, a trusted employee. He was adorable and so tough! i'll never forget the sight of him that day!

Life, as you can well imagine, was vastly different to what you know today! By our little letters you can see just how different! Maybe one day, one of you may be tempted to read the entries!

Great Aunt brenda