Small Island and a Treasured Photo

I am about halfway through Andrea Levy’s Small Island and devouring every word. It is a beautifully crafted book, written in the first person from three people’s viewpoint. It is almost impossible to comprehend that one person has written these characters, such is their individuality, the attention to language and their experiences so acutely described in their own voices.

But this post isn’t a book review. As a brief, and wholly inadequate, overview of the book, it charts the experiences of a Jamaican RAF recruit in WWII and his return to post-war Britain, a local British woman he befriends and later meets after the war, and his Jamaican bride who travels to live with him in post-war London.

One aspect of the book that has engulfed me is the depiction of race relations in Britain at the time, especially with reference to the arrival of the American GIs.

I knew that the American regiments were segregated but had never let my mind think further to the realities of this. And, this is in turn has made me think of a photograph of my grandfather from WWII which I have always held dear and have on display.

I never knew my Grandfather, he was sadly killed in 1964 when my mother was just 14 years old. He told my mother he had seen some appalling atrocities in the war and would discuss them when she was older but that opportunity never arose due to his untimely death. His brothers have since passed away and it never crossed my mind in my youth to ask them what memories he had shared of his war years.

I feel immensely close to my grandfather, despite having never known him. Family are always quick to point out how remarkably alike we are in nature and there have been times I have said something and family members have said they shivered as it could have been him speaking. I wonder if I know him better than the many who live and breath alongside me and how that is.

I have a few photographs of his time in the war, a couple of cards and keepsakes. One photograph I have always had up is the following, my grandfather is second from the left (Leslie Hobbs). Click the photo to enlarge

Growing up I never thought there anything unusual about this photo. I imagined there may be excitement at meeting an American, my grandfather having never left the country until the War. And yes, I realised that he most probably had never met black people before. I know he never gave weight to people’s creed or colour and brought up his family instilling that it was the person not the label you must judge.

From reading Small Island, my eyes have been opened to the problems brought to Britain with the arrival of the American GIs and this has led me to look around the internet for further information. The American regiments would not forsake segregation and many found it very difficult to adapt to the British stance of non-segregation. This is not to say Britain was some form of racism free Utopia, but there was no segregation in the forces or in public places unlike America at the times and this caused many ructions.

I have read accounts where some establishments in Britain were so perturbed by the segregation they would display signs reading ‘For Locals and Black Americans Only’. There were reports of bus conductors telling black GIs not to give up their seats to white GIs.

I am now going to look out for the book ‘When Jim Crow Met John Bull’ as it is a fascinating subject I have never seen addressed in films, television etc – though admittedly I am not a great connoisseur of War related dramas.

And back to that photo, that has always engaged me so much. I do look at it with a new understanding and now even more questions are raised in my mind about those nameless faces. I don’t know which country it was taken in or which year (my grandfather was away for the duration).

I have always been fascinated by the guy on the far right in particular. Whilst the other four all look of their time, I don’t why perhaps the hair, their stance, the man on the right has a timeless look. Place him in modern clothes and he could be someone you’d pass in the street today.

But the main questions remain the same. Who are these men and did they make it?

I wonder if somewhere else in the world there are photos with my grandfather on from those days and if someone is wondering who the stranger is and did they make it. I doubt I will ever know who these men are but, on a shelf in England they sit proud in a bright Deco frame and are not forgotten.

Comments

[Lynne]

Great Blog site!

It was so nice to read about your Grandfather, I'm sure he'd be very proud and honoured to be on your site.

I look forward to reading more. xxx

[Keris]

What a lovely post, Beki.

I loved Small Island too. An amazing book.

Keris x

[Adm. Pooper]

I, too, believe that your grandfather is very proud of you. A beautiful tribute both to him and to the terrible social unjustice of segregation.

It is just as well that their is no one left to tell you of the atrocities. I suspect that your grandfather never told anyone about them, for it is impossible to put real nightmares into words.

Just be thankful that he and all of the others did what they did so that you and I could continue to live in freedom.