Fashion blogger and writer Christina Brown travels to her family’s native island of St. Croix on a mission to solve certain mysteries about her ancestry. What she learns sheds light on her colorful family and herself.
9 P.M. Monday
June 19th, 1912: the date of my great-grandmother’s birth. Lucille Sophia Clark also known as “Grandma Lucy”—an esteemed woman of Cruzan descent and mother of my late grandfather. She migrated to Harlem in the 1930s landing a job at a millinery making fine hats, gloves and accessories. My keen eye for style, perhaps, stems from my bloodline. Today, my mother and I stand on the land of her origin in less than 24 hours. Tonight, my mother un-boxes a treasure trove of context clues she left behind upon her passing. Pictures, death certificates and even paperwork claiming ownership of a plot of land now passed down to my mother as an inheritance. She spent her childhood summers on St. Croix running around on that land and now it belongs to her. Tomorrow, she will see it for the first time in over 45 years.
4 A.M. Tuesday
I can barely sleep. Not just because I waited until the last minute to pack, but also, because I’m anxious. This isn’t just another island-hopping expedition. I am bringing my mother and my 18-month old daughter, Cadence, on a three-generation family excursion to retrace our roots.
2 P.M. Tuesday
Final boarding call to San Juan, from which is a 30-minute journey south to St. Croix. Though there are not yet direct flights stateside to St. Croix, travel is seamless between the states and the USVI trinity. As U.S. territories, St. Croix, St. Thomas and St. John are “No Passport Required” zones. Wheels up. Next stop—Cruzan soil.
2:30 P.M. Tuesday
The warm tropical breeze envelops us as we deplane. Smiling representatives from USVI meet us at the gate, while samples of the island’s native Cruzan Rum are being passed out by baggage claim. I take one to the head. Smooth, indulgent and indigenous. Everything I hope this trip will be.
3:30 P.M. Tuesday
Our guide insists we stop at a local eatery in downtown Christiansted called Gary’s Bakery. She boasts they have the best pastries on the island. As we enter, my mother recalls the sweet scents of guava tarts her grandmother used to make. When she sinks her teeth into one, it all makes sense. Her vivid connection to home is undoubtedly food.
4 P.M. Tuesday
Eyes widen and “ooohs” flood the backseat as my mother and I take in the view of our home away from home—The Buccaneer on St. Croix. A five-star resort overlooking the Beauregard Bay, the property boasts uninterrupted stretches of beach, acres and acres of green plush land, and private well-placed villas overlooking all of the eye candy that we’ve only had a few minutes to experience but already love. Anticipating sunset is an understatement.
5 P.M. Tuesday
The Buccanneer fills their main courtyard with the warmest of welcome receptions. Unlimited rum punch and light bites, steel pan jubilee and a moko jumbie stilt-walking performance you’d expect to see only at carnival. My daughter admires the moko jumbies from afar, whining her little bottom to the live Soca and playfully reaching up to them as they pass by. Her countenance changes when we have our chance to take photos with them.
A LONGTIME FAMILY HOME IN ST. CROIX
They’ve gone from being distant entertainers to life-threatening giants. The other guests’ children reach out to her before she can fix her face to cry. She’s found new playmates already. In another corner of the courtyard, Mom chats it up with resort manager and heir, Elizabeth Armstrong. Her grandparents opened the doors to the sprawling Buccaneer nearly 70 years ago. It’s doubtful my mother and Elizabeth would’ve run into each other nearly 45 years prior. Regardless, they chat about childhood memories of summers on St. Croix as if they’re shared experiences. We’ve been graciously inducted into the Buccaneer Family.
9:30 A.M. Wednesday
We’re 30 minutes behind for our morning activities today after a full and enchanting evening of dinner and cocktails at farm-to-table eatery Zion Modern Kitchen and a driving night tour of downtown Christiansted with our driver Ames. He’s our unofficial tour guide this week. Cadence greets Ames with her morning toddler gibberish and a quick hand wave, offering him her pacifier (her most prized possession). Mom greets Ames with a “Good mawnin’”, laced with hints of that singsong Cruzan voice inflection my great-Grandmother used to use. Thirty-six hours on the island and it’s all coming back to her. We hop in and head back to Christiansted for a daytime glimpse at its historic sights and breathtaking boardwalk views.
10 A.M. Wednesday
One of St. Croix’s finest park rangers and historians gives us the rundown of the Christiansted boardwalk, its significance to the slave trade, the import and export of sugar (this island’s equivalent to gold) and the many settlers that have stepped onto Cruzan shores and made their claim to ownership.
A JOYOUS CADENCE AND A REFLECTIVE CHRISTINA
11 A.M. Wednesday
Our next stop is a tour of Fort Christiansvern currently under a tight reconstruction schedule. We get special permission to tour the Fort while St. Croix’s finest work to restore it. Walking through those stonewalls is sobering. I peer into the small rooms used for slave punishment and solitary confinement and imagine my ancestors here 200 years prior. A beautiful island marred with a cruel past.
We hop across the street to the Steeple Building — an edifice constructed as a church by the Dutch in the 1750’s, now preserved as a historic site and museum. Cadence’s feet hit the ground with force as she weaves in and out of the church benches, the same way she does at our church back in the states.
12 P.M. Wednesday
Since arriving on St. Croix, we’ve heard only good things about “chicken shack” La Reine—a local favorite that visitors can’t help but pass through for it’s authentic Cruzan fare. So we head there in hopes of sinking our teeth into Johnnycakes and savory fresh-roasted chicken.
I approach the menu with one objective: sample everything. My mother’s taste buds are triggers for her childhood memory. After a near-fatal car accident years ago, much of my mother’s childhood memory is fuzzy. Food makes it clear. So we order a sampling of the “chicken and Johnnycakes” special, a side of baked mac & cheese, stuffing (which here on St. Croix is actually a flavorful mix of sweet potato, raisins, spices and bit of tomato paste) and a few other iconic side dishes. The Johnnycakes arrive and my mother’s expression is a mix of anticipation and fear. Her teeth sink into the warm fried dough and her anxiety moves to relief and bliss. Just like she remembered them, if not better.
LITTLE CADENCE STEPS INTO HER HISTORY.
10 A.M. Thursday
We are in Frederiksted at the the historic sugar plantation known as Estate Whim (Mom spent half of her summers in Frederiksted where her Grandfather lived). My eyes immediately wander to the Instagram-worthy colored windows. I imagine myself an extra in a pristine and vibrantly colored film, set in the 1800’s when the historic site was first established. Every detail, from the Great House to the kitchen, slave quarters to wash-room have remained relatively unscathed and untouched. Our guide reminds me of a distant older relative with her warm smile, charming West-Indian wit and rehearsed-to-perfection rundown of the Estate’s history.
11 A.M. Thursday
After our self-guided expedition, the guide points Mom and I toward the St. Croix Land-marks Society Research Library and Archives. It’s there we uncover my family’s ancestry and figure out exactly where we’re from. Stepping through the doors, I’m surprised to find the archival library is about as small as an overpriced studio in SoHo. The space is covered wall to wall in file folders, books and paper. Everyone assisting in the library is a volunteer; elder residents of St. Croix with an impeccable knowledge of the archives that have recorded every baptism, death and even plantation ownership.
ESTATE WHIM SUGAR PLANTATION
11:30 A.M. Thursday
Within minutes, the elders, like walking encyclopedias, have located and identified Lucille Sophia Newton – my great-Grandmother: daughter of Amos and Celicia Newton. They trace our ancestry back to plantations on the North side of the island in an area called Betsy’s Jewel. I’m almost proud our province of origination ends in “jewel”. There’s something regal about it. They show us my great-Grandmother’s baptism certificate and date; that she had a brother, whom my mother recalls as “Uncle Isaac” but who is listed by birth record under another name completely. My mother mentions the name of an elder first cousin who lives in Frederiksted but whom she can’t seem to track down. One of the elders nods in reassurance “I knew huh. She wahlk wid a lihmp?” My mother smiles, almost in tears. “Yes that’s her! She had a limp. Does she still live here? Is she still alive?” The elder admits she hasn’t seen her in years. Pieces of the puzzle are coming together but there are still a few missing.
CHRISTINA MAKES A NEW FRIEND
12:30 P.M. Thursday
After an eventful and insightful trip to Estate Whim, we head up into the rainforest for lunch at the Mt. Pellier Domino Club. Taking the scenic (and slightly bumpy) road up into the rainforest is an experience not to be missed. On the menu for us today: burgers and the most unforgettable glasses of Mama Juana I’ve ever tasted. As a seasoned traveler, I’ve had my fair share of Mama Juana. This gentle mix of rum, honey and herbs at Mt. Pellier Domino Club is otherworldly though. Slightly spiced. Warm sweet perfection.
On the menu for the infamous “pet” pigs in the outhouse at Domino Club? Beer. The pigs drink beer out of the can and you cannot leave Domino without at least one person in your party feeding them. The beer cans are $2 each. The memories are priceless. Our driver Ames insists. My mother opts out. Cadence looks at me in terror. I become the sacrificial daredevil. I take two cans of beer and the keys to the barn. It’s time to feed the pigs.
2 P.M. Thursday
After braving the pigs (if you go, feed Vic—he’s friendly), it’s back to our history expedition. My mother insists we go visit the plot of land her great-Grandmother left her as inheritance. She pays ownership taxes on it every year but she has never seen the land that bears her name.
2:30 P.M. Thursday
Through the gate, my mother peers on in wonder. Commercial businesses now sit atop the plot of land. However, the home she visited as a child, her Uncle’s home, is still there. It’s in the middle, seemingly untouched. “Why did they keep the house? Why didn’t they knock it down?” More unanswered questions.
3 P.M. Thursday
We spend our last few hours with Ames heading to a cousin’s home in Catherine’s Rest. There, my mother greets her older cousin for the first time in years and asks her the unanswered questions we have about our relatives still residing on the island. When Mom is nearly satisfied with her quizzing, we depart for the hotel. It still hasn’t set in that we leave tomorrow.
THREE BEAUTIFUL GENERATIONS OF CRUZANS
11:30 A.M. Friday
As we depart The Buccaneer, an iguana slips by our caravan as if part of the departure committee. On the ride to the airport, Ames in-forms us of the upcoming Centennial celebration of the island’s independence from Dutch rule. The year is 2017 and major celebrations are being prepared. “We’ll be back,” insists Mom. I nod my head in agreement as Cadence tosses her pacifier on the floor of the caravan. She clearly isn’t ready to leave. Her pacifier is how she marks her territory. Though it took nearly 45 years for my mother to return to her childhood summer home, this may be the resurgence of her annual expedition. This trip solved some mysteries and uncovered others. There’s more digging to do.
[Images: Quiana Adams]