I envisaged that I would stay here for a period of five years, and in that time I would learn a profession, whether to be a teacher or a nurse. Then I would return to Jamaica on completion of my training, and would use my skills there to help the people and to improve the country. But things didn’t quite turn out that way. I worked hard, trained as a nurse, achieved a lot, and was given an award for my work with the community, and now I am retired – but I am still here in Bristol!
I can still remember my first impressions of England on arrival here – how different things were, such as the houses, people, hygiene and manners - a real culture shock!
This story was made by members of the Malcolm X Elders Forum (based at the Malcolm X centre in St Pauls) working with staff from the Museum of Bristol and Watershed.
The participants, many of whom had moved from Jamaica to Britain in the 1950s, wrote the stories of their younger lives, which were recorded, and edited into short films by Paddy Uglow, using participants’ photos and other photographs (used under Creative Commons license).
Other project workers were Ruth Jacobs, Sarwat Siddiqui, Jackie Winchester and Aikaterini Gegisian. The project was supported by Bristol’s Museums, Galleries & Archives.
My name is Princess Campbell and I came to England as a teenager in 1962. My first impression on seeing the houses was that they appeared so different to what we were used to in the West Indies. They were not picturesque, like we were used to. These houses were tall, solid, plain, red brick buildings, all looking alike with smoke coming from the chimneys. The windows were bare because there was no curtains to make it look homely.
It was explained the cause of the smoke was because they had a fire lit in the house to keep it warm. It was hard to envisage and understand, that a fire could be alight in a house without causing danger.
It was customary to have milk and unwrapped bread delivered by the milkman at your doorstep in the mornings. It did not take long for a dog to pass by, have a sniff and cock his leg up. General awareness regarding hygiene and airborne germs was not promoted.
It was also acceptable to see an English person coming from the shop with a loaf of bread tucked under their armpits.
Kitchen habits were intolerable and we found it impossible to use a kitchen jointly with the English people in the house. In the mornings, they would come down to the bathroom with a bowl and empty the waste products excreted from their bodies during the night, and later on in the day, the same bowl would be of priority use in the kitchen. We thought we were at risk.
Because we were adaptable, we were able to cope with this situation. So when they left the kitchen, we would then go in with disinfectant, bleach and any other sort of cleaning products plus scouring pads and we would scour everything that had a surface, including the sink. When we then cooked and finished, we would collect everything of our own from the kitchen and store it in our room.
There was no sense of colour as all the clothing was dark. They all wore dark clothes, but we’re used to having bright and colourful clothing of light materials. They criticised our clothes as too loud and could not accept beauty in our clothes because of the colour. Now they can’t get enough of the colourful clothes we use.
One Saturday, I got dressed up to go shopping like we always did in Jamaica. The lady who ran the grocers (her name was Mrs Tucker, I’ll never forget her) she said “What is this in aid of?”. I didn’t have a clue what she meant, so I said “It’s not in aid of anything. This is how we usually dress when we are going shopping which is a Saturday or a special day.” After that, I was embarrassed and I had to start dressing down.
When we went to the shops we were used to serving ourselves but they shouted at us, “Put it down- we will serve you.”, and I’m meaning like fruits - you get a beautiful display of apples, oranges, nectarines,m everything… it could be four for a pound so you said “Right, I’ll take four good ones.” And so we had to put down the good ones and they’d take four bad ones from the back.
We didn’t look at them because they didn’t give us the chance, and when we went home we were very angry and disillusioned that they could do this sort of thing to us.
In the West Indies we don’t eat a lot of fat as we know it is bad for our health. On going shopping, most of us West Indians would ask the butcher for a piece of meat without fat. He would say out quite loudly “You people are too fussy!”
When we paid for our goods, money would not be taken from our hands. We would have to place the money on the counter where they would take it from and in return they’d place the change there as well. So that is the way they saw us and that is the way they dealt with us.
As people became more educated, things started to change. For example - there was a greater awareness of how harmful fat can be to the heart and blood vessels. They hadn’t been aware of germs eg of having food exposed, and a lot was learnt from black people who were really conscious of good hygiene practice. Then, with awareness and education, attitudes changed.
People used to eat on the street- back home in Jamaica you wouldn’t see that.
In Jamaica people eating on the street was classed as the lowest of the low. Women in pubs were seen as prostitutes. We called them “bar flies”. When we saw women in pubs we were shocked - it was a very different way of life.
On my retirement, I have been very active by promoting health issues, hopefully to preserve and enhance the well-being and quality of life to the community. I was recognised and awarded by the Lord Mayor, the caption was “One person makes a difference.”
Bread picture created by JustABoy, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Bread and hand picture created by kiwanja, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Buildings picture created by Sarwat Siddiqui, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Buildings picture created by Jackie Winchester, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Butcher picture created by ArminFlickr, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Chamber pot picture created by imfedor, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Cleaning picture created by james.thompson, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Eating outside picture created by hyperlegs, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Grocer picture created by JustABoy, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Kitchen picture created by crackedpavement, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Money on counter picture created by Paddy Uglow, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Oven picture created by mrebert, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Rotten apples picture created by rore, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Salad picture created by moria, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Scrubbing brush picture created by nodoca, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Spilled milk picture created by rickabbo, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
Woman in pub picture created by Very Good with Computers, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 licence.
All media not otherwise credited created by the story author, or permission obtained, used under copyright licence.
bristolstories.org was a Watershed project from that ran from 2005 - 2007
in partnership with M Shed
with support from Bristol Museums, Galleries and Archives and Bristol City Council