Tiny islands, big memories

David C. Henley

There are 193 sovereign nations in the world today, ranging in

population from China, which has 1.3 billion people, to the

southwestern Pacific island country of Tuvalu, which has 11,000

inhabitants.

I’ve been in more than 60 of these countries -- from Turkey to

Tonga -- and on a recent three-week adventure with wife Ludie, spent

several days in the tiny Eastern Caribbean nation of St. Kitts and

Nevis, where we were granted a private audience and took tea with its

head of state.

Following an itinerary, which took us by plane and small boat from

Newport Beach to Puerto Rico, the U.S. and British Virgin Islands,

the French and Dutch jointly administered island of St. Martin and

the British-ruled island of Anguilla, we traveled to St. Kitts and

Nevis, a two-island country of only 44,000 people.

The 10th smallest of the world’s 193 countries, St. Kitts was a

British colony until 1983, when it achieved full independence.

Today, it is a member of the United Nations, the Organization of

American States and the British Commonwealth. It maintains an embassy

in Washington and is making strides to become an important voice

among the smaller nations of the Caribbean.

On our second day in St. Kitts, we had lunch with Peter Allcorn,

British ambassador to the tiny nation, at the picturesque Ballahoo

restaurant in Basseterre, the country’s capital.

When Ambassador Allcorn learned that I served as honorary consul

of Uruguay to the state of Nevada (we maintain a second residence and

publishing company near Reno), he said, “Mr. Henley, by all means, I

must introduce you to Sir Cuthbert Sebastian, the chief of state.

“He always wants to meet visiting diplomats, and I’ll set up an

appointment for you and Mrs. Henley.”

The next morning, the telephone rang in our room at the Timothy

Bay Beach Resort on St. Kitts’ south coast, and the caller was the

private secretary of Sir Cuthbert.

“The governor general, Sir Cuthbert, would like to entertain the

Henleys. Can you be available today at four?” she asked.

“Of course,” I replied, and in a few hours we set out for

Government House, the governor general’s official residence.

Arriving at the sprawling mansion, high above Basseterre’s hills

in our rented Kia, we were met by an honor guard of the minuscule St.

Kitts army.

The colonel commanding the detachment, garbed in full military,

formal attire with medals and gold braid, saluted us, and the honor

guard members raised their swords as we alighted from our car.

“This way, sir,” the colonel said, leading us into the

Victorian-era structure built in the 19th century to house the

island’s British governors when St. Kitts was still a British crown

colony.

We were directed to chairs in the state reception room, and in a

few moments a lieutenant colonel, who identified himself as Sir

Cuthbert’s aide-de-camp, arrived to proclaim, “The governor general

will see you now.”

Ludie and I rose as Sir Cuthbert descended from the second floor

via a curving staircase.

“Welcome to our small country, and please have some refreshment,”

he said, beckoning to an elderly, white-uniformed waiter who brought

us tea and cakes.

Beginning our hour-long chat, Sir Cuthbert told us he is the

descendant of slaves, like most of his countrymen, who were

transported to St. Kitts from Africa in the 18th century.

“I was appointed governor general several years ago by Queen

Elizabeth II, who also knighted me upon my appointment,” he

continued.

A physician who received his medical education in Canada, Sir

Cuthbert said he had been a pediatrician prior to his appointment by

the queen and had delivered thousands of babies during his 40 years

of practice.

“I’m known here as the nation’s baby deliverer, and when I go

about many people come up to me and say, ‘You delivered me, Dr.

Sebastian,’” he said.

Although St. Kitts has an elected president, Sir Cuthbert as chief

of state greets all diplomats, often travels abroad representing his

nation at international conferences, and is considered an effective

pacifier among the country’s often divisive political factions.

On a wall in the reception room were hanging massive color

portraits of Queen Elizabeth and himself, and in his photo he was

wearing a white helmet topped by a feather plume and an ornate white

uniform bedecked with epaulets, gold trim and numerous medals.

“This uniform cost $10,000, and I had to pay for it myself,” he

laughed.

Our conversation continued, the tea and cakes kept coming, and Sir

Sebastian, in reminiscing about his days as a pediatrician,

remembered he had traveled to Orange County many years ago to attend

a medical conference at UC Irvine.

“You have some very noted doctors out there in California, and I

met several of them who were helpful to me in my medical practice,”

he said.

Our talk then turned to local politics, the British heritage of

the islands, the advent of the large Las Vegas-style casino hotels in

St. Kitts and neighboring Nevis, and the nation’s economy (sugar,

cotton, coconuts and tourism).

“Tell your friends in Orange County about our country when you get

home. I hope they’ll visit us as well,” he said.

He asked Ludie and me to sign his official visitors’ book, and

turning to early pages, pointed out the signatures of Queen

Elizabeth, Prince Philip, Prince Charles and the late Princess

Margaret, who also had been entertained at Government House.

Soon, it was time to leave, and Sir Cuthbert ushered us out to our

car.

“Come again. The next time you’re here, I’ll take you on a tour of

the island in my new car,” he said, pointing to a shiny black

Cadillac limousine parked in the adjoining garage.

Staggering under the weight of gallons of tea and countless sweet

cakes, Ludie and I waved goodbye to Sir Cuthbert, the bowing waiter,

the two colonels and the honor guard and drove off, following the

long, winding, tree-lined road from Government House to the capital,

which eventually led us to our hotel.

It was getting dark when we arrived back at Timothy Bay, and there

was barely enough time to jump into our bathing suits, take a swim in

the Caribbean and watch the sun go down.

* DAVID HENLEY is a resident of Newport Beach.