A couple of weeks ago I was invited to tell a story at a celebration for the mounting of a blue plaque in Hastings, for the only Queen of Haiti, Marie Louise Coidavid, first lady of the successful Haitian revolution. Campaigners had worked tirelessly both in England and Italy to ensure that her days of exile in Europe would not go unacknowledged, and to mark the occasion we gathered at Sugarpie Honeybuns Cafe in St. Leonards on Sea.

The Queen of Haiti, La Reine D’ayiti:
Some speak of her beauty, of her being born a free woman, of her education, sharp intelligence and integrity. Others speak of her gowns and jewels, of her disregard for the overworked and under-fed masses. Either way she was the first lady of Haiti, first Caribbean Republic. However, when the tide of history turned against her husband, Henry Christophe, she was forced to leave Haiti.

With her husband dead, her only son killed by the revolting masses, and the mighty citadel burned, Marie Louise fled with her two daughters to London, and then to Hastings, where she lived for three years. She then migrated to Pisa in Italy. Her daughters died of ill health soon after, and 31 years years later she died in Pisa alone, denied her request to return to Haiti.

This is the story I told that evening.
If you’ve read the poem/story My Soucouyah and Me, you might recognise the words.
I think, within it are whispers of la reine d’ayiti, the tragedy, the unfulfillment, the obscurity, and also something of the beauty.