ITRAVELLED TO GRENADA with my son, Beau. I felt I needed to spend more individual time with him. I had been very busy these past months, and he was still very young. I also knew my parents would relish the time and opportunity to get to know him better.
In my capacity as high commissioner, I invited three prominent government members to attend the anniversary celebrations: the member of Parliament Mike Forrestall and Senator Health MacQuarrie, both of whom had strong ties to the Caribbean, and Alan Rodger, Canada’s high commissioner to Barbados, who had additional responsibility for the Eastern Caribbean, including Grenada. I knew these three individuals well and was convinced they were willing and able to promote Grenadian interests in Canada. They, in turn, trusted me.
From the moment I touched down at Pearls Airport, I noticed that the atmosphere in Grenada had changed. I saw several armed military personnel carrying either revolvers or rifles, which would never have happened before the revolution. I wondered what sort of reception I would receive from the new government, but those concerns were soon dispelled. Everyone appeared friendly, and made a point of calling me “Sister Jennifer.” Boys and men referred to each other as “brother” in true Socialist style.
Our first meeting was held at the prime minister’s residence, Mount Royal. I was shown into an informal living room to wait for my meeting to begin. The wait seemed longer than protocol required. Finally, the inner door opened, and there stood Maurice Bishop and Bernard Coard, both with huge smiles on their faces. They embraced me. They were quick to reminisce over an incident in the late 1960s at Notting Hill Gate in London when, they maintained, I saved them from certain complications with the police over an unlicensed motorcycle they were riding. I recalled playing tennis at the Tanteen courts, near my old high school, with Bernard during our school days. Such was the nature of our connections.
Our more serious business concerned Grenada’s external strategy, whose focus was the first anniversary of the revolution. I briefed them on sentiments in Canada and the progress of certain development projects. The PRG had prioritized an international airport for Grenada and had approached several countries to assist with its funding. Canada and Cuba were among those asked.
The big anniversary celebration took place on March 13, 1980, at the Queen’s Park in St. George’s. I attended with my Canadian government guests. The speakers included Daniel Ortega, revolutionary leader of Nicaragua. Dressed in military fatigues, he spoke in Spanish, while his speech was interpreted for the benefit of the large crowd. He highlighted the solidarity of his government with that of the PRG. His was followed by Michael Manley, prime minister of Jamaica, and still later by the Cuban ambassador to Grenada.
In return, Maurice Bishop and Bernard Coard thanked by name the countries that had rendered assistance to Grenada over the past year. My Canadian guests waited to hear an acknowledgement of Canada, as did I. It was not forthcoming. We waited in vain. In spite of the fact that Canada was one of the very first countries to recognize the PRG and continued in good faith all the aid projects that had been implemented before the coup, the Canadians were shunned on this occasion. My guests were understandably upset and made this clear to me when we met later that evening for dinner at their hotel. Both Michael Forrestall and Heath MacQuarrie described the incident as “a slap in the face for Canada.” I tried to downplay the unfortunate incident by suggesting it was probably a simple omission. They were far from convinced. I, too, was extremely disappointed and told them so.
The following day, Grenadian diplomats from around the world, including me, met with senior government officials as well as Bishop and Coard. The meeting focused on ways to attract more aid from foreign governments. The discussion ran on for about thirty minutes during which I remained mostly silent. Suddenly, Bernard looked at me and said, “Jennifer, what would you recommend to increase the amount of foreign aid from Canada?”
I looked him straight in the eye and replied, “Well, yesterday you had an opportunity, but you blew it.”
He asked me to explain.
“Yesterday,” I told him, “when you were thanking countries for their assistance to Grenada, you omitted Canada. That was the ideal opportunity for you to have thanked Canada for recognizing the government of Grenada, and it would have encouraged more aid to Grenada.”
“It was not an omission,” Bernard replied. “It was a deliberate tactic. By not thanking Canada, we thought they would realize they had not given enough and therefore increase future aid.”
I was astounded. Shocked. Outraged. The rationale made no sense to me at all. In fact, I was so deeply ashamed that I decided there and then that my days as high commissioner for Grenada were numbered. I knew I could not work for a government with this mentality.
Some months later, I arranged, at the request of Maurice Bishop, a visit for him to Canada. I suspected that Maurice had realized his error, and the bridges he had burned, and was seeking to make amends. The urgency around arranging this visit suggested that the PRG was having second thoughts about its strategy. While still upset, I decided to use my influence in Ottawa to help overcome the negativity following the anniversary celebrations.
Maurice was accompanied on his visit by Selwyn Strachan, his mobilization minister. They made a good impression on their Canadian hosts. Maurice was eloquent and personable. One of our last meetings was with Flora MacDonald, minister of foreign affairs. She appeared to be impressed and promised increased aid to Grenada. However, within hours of leaving her office, I was told by a member of my staff that Bernard Coard, acting prime minister in Maurice’s absence, had meanwhile closed the only functioning newspaper in Grenada.
This action could not have come at a worse time, and it was a surprise to Maurice. Bernard Coard seemed to have acted on his own, leaving Maurice to face the music. The Canadian media immediately latched on to the news, and I was called back to the Department of External Affairs to explain what had transpired. I was pointedly asked if I had known in advance of our meeting about the newspaper’s closing. “Absolutely not,” I said, which was the truth. I could tell that the minister’s trust was fading.
It seemed to me that the revolution was taking a toll on Maurice. Prior to leaving Canada, he appeared preoccupied and distant. When he said goodbye to our team, there was a sadness in his eyes. From my perspective, the writing was on the wall. I was deeply disappointed in Maurice’s weakness. While he had expressed surprise at the closing of the newspaper, he did not express any outrage at this most undemocratic act, nor did he rescind the action on his return to Grenada. Bernard had acted in a most untimely and thoughtless manner and seemed to have little regard for the effect his actions would have on Maurice or Grenada. He had also failed to keep his promise of holding elections within six months. Filled with foreboding about the future of the PRG, I went back to my office to draft my letter of resignation.
When news of my resignation hit the diplomatic community, I was surprised at the level of sympathy and goodwill expressed from all quarters, including the media. It did my heart good to read such commendations, but I was in no doubt about the wisdom of my decision. In subsequent months, there were reports that the United States was holding military exercises off the Puerto Rican coast. The exercises were code-named “Amber.” The Grenadian government took steps to build up its military forces with the express goal of responding to the American threat.
Maurice did not last long after his return to Grenada. Disputes arose between him and other party leaders, including Bernard, over the sharing of power and what appeared to be a softening of his position on the United States. He was placed under house arrest, which sent shock waves throughout the Caribbean and, indeed, around the world. Crowds stormed the facility where Maurice was being confined and freed him. This outpouring of support for Maurice appeared to have been unexpected by Bernard and his more militant supporters, including General Hudson Austin, commander of the Grenada forces.
Bernard Coard and Hudson adhered to strict Marxist-Leninist doctrine and practice, which they wished to impose on the PRG. The military, following orders, tracked down Maurice and his supporters and, in cold blood, shot him, his pregnant mistress Jacqueline Creft, and several cabinet ministers. The naked aggression and violence, never before experienced on this peaceful island, stunned the population of Grenada as well as neighbouring countries.
Grenadians took to hiding. They were afraid for their lives and their children. Those who could get off the island did. The leaders of Barbados and other Eastern Caribbean nations turned to the United States government for help in resolving the situation. They were concerned that what had taken place in Grenada could spread to their own unprotected countries. On October 25, 1983, President Ronald Reagan, in collaboration with several Caribbean nations, ordered hundreds of troops into Grenada. The United States justified the invasion, later termed an “intervention,” as a rescue of US citizens attending the American-owned St. George’s School of Medicine. Most Grenadians, in fact, viewed the invasion as something of a rescue mission. I agreed, although I would have preferred the United Kingdom to intervene instead.
An interim government was put in place to run the Grenada and was tasked with restoring democracy. Some years later, Sir Eric Gairy was allowed to return from the United States, where he had taken refuge following the coup. He continued as head of the Grenada United Labour Party (GULP) but was never again more than a spectator in government due to ill health and a reputation damaged by the revolution.
Just prior to the invasion, my sister Pommie and her second husband, Bruce, arranged for a light aircraft to fly from Trinidad to evacuate our aging parents. They were given strict instructions to pack only the bare essentials and drive to the airport that evening without telling anyone where they were going. My parents had no idea what might be waiting for them at the airport. They had been told only that Pommie had made arrangements. They arrived just as the airport was closing and looked around anxiously. A voice called out to them, “Mr. and Mrs. Hosten? I’ve come to take you back to Trinidad. Your family are anxious for your safety. My name is Junior, and I’m your pilot. Please follow me as quickly as possible. We must leave immediately.”
Without asking questions, my parents followed Junior out of the terminal and onto the tarmac to an awaiting aircraft. Junior opened the rear door and helped them in with their two small overnight bags, shutting the door firmly behind them. Climbing into the left-hand seat in front of them, he started the two engines and proceeded to taxi toward the runway.
“Please ensure your seatbelts are securely fastened. We will be taking off in a couple of minutes, and as you will have noticed, all the taxi and runway lights have already been extinguished. We are the last flight to leave Grenada. Don’t worry about the takeoff. Everything will be fine!”
Junior lined up the aircraft on the runway in darkness, eased the throttles forward and released the brakes as the aircraft started rolling. My parents gripped their seats as it increased speed. They both sighed with relief as the wheels left the ground and the aircraft climbed into the night.
At the time of the invasion, I had already returned to work with Air Canada and enrolled in university. The Air Canada staff proved most supportive, and several of my friends pooled their cargo passes to enable me to ship powdered milk, sugar and other essentials to Grenada. Jeannie Peppy, of Air Canada’s staff relations department, flew with me down to Barbados, where we arranged to accompany the items to Grenada aboard a US chopper. When we landed, the airport in Grenada was teaming with soldiers dressed in battle fatigues. They were all courteous and assured me that the shipment would be distributed to the needy as promised.
My parents, in the meantime, had returned to Grenada, concerned for the security of their property. Jeannie and I set out to find them, hoping they would be at their house in the suburb of St. Paul’s. When we arrived, there was little sign of movement in the area. With butterflies in my stomach, I walked to their front door and found it tightly closed and shuttered, as if abandoned. I knocked loudly and waited. There was a faint sound of movement within, but no one came to the door. I knocked again, sharply, three times.
My father called out, “Who’s there?”
“It’s Jenny!”
I could hear him exclaim to my mother, “It’s Jenny at the door! She’s here!”
The shutters were unbolted, and my parents shuffled out onto the front porch in their dressing gowns. Tears flowed as we greeted one another. I was profoundly relieved to see them standing there, looking happy and well.
The trial of those implicated in the killing of Maurice Bishop and members of his cabinet was a drawn-out affair. In the end, Bernard Coard, General Hudson Austin and those who had taken part in the massacre were sentenced to death (later commuted to life imprisonment).
Several years later, while spending the Christmas vacation in Grenada, I was invited by my friend, Archdeacon Clement Francis, to join him as he said mass at Richmond Hill prison. I said that I would be happy to go.
Once we passed through prison security, I followed Archdeacon Francis into a large room set up for the service. Among the twenty-five or so inmates were members of the infamous PRG. Bernard, his wife, Phyllis, who had been a main player; Hudson; and many others stood among the prisoners. The service began, and I was called upon to give a reading. As my name was announced, I could see surprise on the faces of the prisoners. They had not recognized me at first. Following the service, they crowded around and shook my hand. They said that they had read and enjoyed my recently published book on free trade.
Bernard told me that he had learned a great deal since serving his prison term. I was not sure whether he meant that he had taken advantage of the opportunity to study, as many do when incarcerated for a long period, or that he regretted the actions that had brought him to prison. Either way, the experience touched me. I felt sad to see these people who had once displayed such promise ending their days in this fashion.
As a child growing up in Grenada, I would never have thought its people could resort to the kind of violence that occurred following the revolution of the 1980s. The experience scarred Grenadians and to this day many are unsure of the effects of the revolution and, leaving aside the violence, whether it had a positive or negative effect overall. Some argue that it was liberating to some Grenadians, allowing them to get ahead. Others remember the revolution for undermining some of the most essential values of Grenadian society. Historians are still trying to make sense of it, trying to realize the true impact of the event.