“Birth Certificate” by Frank Banfield

Frank's Birth Certificate. Click to expand

Everyone should have one of these: a birth certificate!

This document shows the date I was born, my father’s full name and my mother’s birth name and her married name also. The place where I was born is called Calivigny. What a strange name for a colony of the British Empire!

To me, the most important fact is that I have a mother and a father. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. My dad has roots in Ireland, England, St Vincent and Barbados. My mother has Scottish and African roots.

And so begins my tale.

As my birth certificate states, I was born on the island of Grenada, which is 12 miles across and 24 miles long and was named by France (before they lost it to the British).

The story goes that my father, a prosperous farmer, married his cousin and raised five children. All of them were girls. During a storm my father went out to make sure the cattle were okay. He got soaked to his bones. His wife went out to feed the pigs. She slipped and died where she fell.

Nutmeg

You can imagine his dilemma. He had to look after the farm and five daughters. On top of this, his grief tugged at his heart. His oldest child, Ermintrude, could see her father could not cope. 

One day she took him aside and told him about a young woman who might make him happy.

“Whose family is she from?” he asked.

“The Marshalls,” Ermintrude answered and handed him their address. 

My father sent a letter to the family to arrange for a time to meet the young lady. Upon receiving an invitation, and being a no-nonsense man, he dressed in his Sunday best and saddled up his horse.  He covered the fifteen miles to the Marshall estate in a few hours.

When he arrived, Mrs. Marshall ushered him into the drawing room and sat him next to her younger daughter. To his surprise, Mrs. Marshall had two daughters. Her older daughter, Rica, was recently widowed. Rica served tea and supper. This way Mrs. Marshall’s younger daughter could spend time getting to know my father. My father was impressed with Rica’s skills.

Mister Marshall, a prominent nutmeg estate owner, arrived in time for the evening meal. At the conclusion of supper, Rica began to clear the dishes. My father got up from his chair and said, “Mister Marshall would you give me your daughter…” Before he could finish his question, the younger daughter, began to tremble.

My father continued, “Your daughter Rica’s hand in marriage?”

Rica dropped the platter from her hands. Her younger sister, who was relieved not to have to marry a much older man, quickly gave Rica a big hug. Mr. Marshall extended his hand to my father. “Welcome to our family, Walter.” 

***

Frank Banfield was born on the tiny island of Grenada forever ago. He likes to write about the trials and triumphs of family members. As one of fifteen children Frank is likely to be writing for some time.

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