In addition to being a known tourist landmark, Fort James in Plymouth is also a place where unwanted dogs have been dumped and un-spayed homeless females have given birth to litters of pups. I have been called there on a few occasions for animal rescue purposes. The last rescue, about three years ago, was a dog we had named Jamesy (after the fort) who now lives happily in Trinidad.
A few months ago, in mid-July, I visited the fort with another purpose which made me see the area through a different lens.
I was there to be inspired for a writing project. The management of Bocas Lit Fest invited me to be one of six "contemporary TT writers" commissioned to create new works for a video series (Lost Voices). The focus would be on key moments in local history “for which we have no firsthand accounts, or accounts only from official/colonial perspectives.”
Writers were asked to give voice to “specific known or conjectured individuals whose stories are otherwise unrecoverable, filling in gaps in our collective story.” This was to be done in a single piece of fiction or a series of shorter fiction pieces, written in the first person “from the partly imagined perspectives of a specific character.” The style and form of each piece would be left up to the writer and should consist of partly researched and partly imagined perspectives.
The character Bocas had selected for my exploration was Betty Stiven (d 1783), the 22-year-old occupant of the "mystery tombstone" at Plymouth, Tobago.
“Within these walls are deposited the bodies of Betty Stiven and her child. She was the beloved wife of Alex Stiven, who to the end of his days will deplore her death, which happened on the 25th day of November 1783 in the 23rd year of her life. What was remarkable of her was she was a mother without knowing it, and a wife without letting her husband know it, except by her kind indulgences to him.” (Inscription on tombstone).
Instead of writing about my "partly researched, partly imagined" version of Betty’s story, I will focus on other elements that struck me during my visit to Plymouth that day.
I had found myself thinking, “Imagine, Betty once walked here.” I envisioned her, enigmatic and solitary, walking the streets and standing near the fort, gazing out to sea, clothes fluttering. This windswept, panoramic vision was reminiscent of scenes from The Piano, the emotive 1993 period film written and directed by Jane Campion.
The story of Betty Stiven set in Tobago of yore could inspire a beautiful and compelling feature-length film or fascinating documentary.
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How different Plymouth must have looked in 1783, bustling with the business of industry at the time, enslaved people and masters, horses, carriages. The recreation of this setting, along with costuming for the film, could bring a lot of creative and money-making opportunities for Tobagonians.
One can easily miss the entrance to the mystery tombstone. The darkish walkway, lined with somewhat nond
