St Helena
4 March 2008
In Napoleon’s footsteps
Fresh local mangoes for breakfast today, small and sweet. A packed lunch appears, as does Larry, my taxi driver for the day, and we start the climb up the hill out of Jamestown. We arrive early at the Briars, where Napoleon lodged with a hospitable family called the Balcombes for his first few weeks on the island at the end of 1815. Only one room of this very pretty pavilion is open, but I could see why Napoleon liked it: it is open and airy with long views towards the sea across a verdant garden full of trees and shrubs such as cape yew, a Persian silk or powderpuff tree, bougainvillea and papaya.
We take a lazy route to Longwood House, where Napoleon was to spend the rest of his life (he died in 1821 at the age of 51) together with his small entourage of courtiers and their families. We stop here and there for photo opportunities, while Larry imparts information and local gossip, e.g. that Cable and Wireless (whose dilapidated building is next door to the Briars) is running out of cash. He points out a rabbit sitting under a parked car. The islanders don’t eat them, seemingly. We meander along country lanes. The entrance to Longwood (a French territory) is through a fine garden, and we are welcomed by Ivy, who (Larry tells me) is the shortest person on the island. Longwood looks pretty from the outside, but the damp is palpable. 
Ivy emphasizes how much better it looks now – with just about everything replaced – than it did in Napoleon’s day, when it was full of mould and termites and rats scampered about under the dining room table (one is rumoured to have taken up residence in his hat). The only sound now is the relentless wind; all echoes from this modest, overcrowded dwelling, and the small army of soldiers who patrolled it night and day, have long faded. It is a sad place. As I leave my head buzzes with conspiracy theories.
I ask Larry if he can drop me at the Cemetery for Boer prisoners of war and then pick me up at St Paul’s cathedral which he agrees to do and then ignores completely. He has decided he is going to give me an island tour. OK! It’s easier just to go with the flow, and anyway, it’s very interesting. He tells me about his childhood in the Hutt’s Gate store, the work of the flax cutters who earned £1.18.6 a week, how once Sandy Bay was rich with guavas, mangoes and oranges but farming is too hard for too little return and no-one now wants to work the land. He has opinions on everything: the need to employ expats for managerial posts because “Saints” would favour their relatives; that the Americans want us out of Ascension Island … Somewhere along the way I get to Napoleon’s now empty tomb, in the Valley of the Geranium, a spot apparently chosen by him. It is marvellously peaceful (I’d prefer it to the Invalides any day) surrounded by flowers and trees and guarded by a pleasant chap in a kind of sentry box taking his ease alongside two bottles of Gordon’s gin.
On we go, and I get to see where the road to the new airport will run, a giant undertaking that will rip the island apart. We also visit an idyllic rural scene with grazing cows and small cottages, which will be the site of the 5-star tourist complex. Larry asks me if I have seen a wirebird (the symbol of St Helena) and when I say no, sets off to find one. We do indeed find one, scurrying along some distance off, and a host of other birds: a canary, red cardinals, tiny waxbills and the ubiquitous mynah birds. Everywhere there are depressing signs of cultivated land returning to the wild, being overrun by New Zealand flax (one of many failed monoculture projects) and gorse. I do get a few minutes in the Boer Cemetery and St Paul’s, but it has been a long day and I’m beginning to fret about how much it is going to cost. Larry asks for £30 “if you can stretch to that” and I give him £32, which seems to satisfy him. Very good value for a memorable day.
Diana Grimwood Jones
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