Most would have seen the name, John S Donaldson, inscribed in letters large on a fairly large building on Wrightson Road in Port-of-Spain. In recent times that name has been subsumed, relegating “John D” to a subsidiary of UTT, the Creativity Center. The building had been named to honour the nation’s second Minister of Education in the newly-independent T&T.
John Shelford Donaldson had not only been one of the men behind the Williams throne, he was in fact one of the king-makers. Donaldson had laboured long and hard as a primary school teacher, and eventually as a principal in the colonial system of primary education in T&T.
Anyone familiar with that system would testify to its rigour and hardship. Only the very best and ablest survived. John Shelford was one of those. But he did not forget where he had come from, the difficulty of his journey, nor the sheer crassness of the local authorities.
Thereafter, he strove to improve the working conditions of his fellow teachers in the school system. Donaldson was continually punished, assigned to hardship post after hardship post in efforts made to silence him. But he was tenacious; he persisted and endured.
A fairly religious man with a fervor for classical music and justice, Donaldson along with D Wilton Rogers and some other teachers founded the Teachers’ Economic and Cultural Association (Teca)—an organisation designed to improve the lot of teachers in particular and education in general.
In 1955, Dr Eric Williams returned to the region from his stint with the Caribbean Commission. He was embraced by Teca’s off-shoot, the People’s Education Movement. This group had extended its reach and appeal beyond the classroom and had launched the University of Woodford Square.
The group of educators exposed the erudite Dr Williams to the masses, introducing them, for the first time, to “doctor politics.” The rest is history. When the first PNM administration was formed in 1956, Donaldson, who had contested and had won a seat in the election, was appointed first as the parliamentary secretary in the Ministry of Education, and then as Minister of Education in 1959.
He was killed in a vehicular accident in May of 1961 as he returned from delivering an address at a function held in Couva to honour the Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore.
The John S Donaldson Institute was to bear testimony to the man for whom it had been named. Hundreds of graduates all over the world in technical and allied fields credit their success to the training which they received at the John S Donaldson Technical Institute.
And then came another Donaldson. John Stanley. Still a student at the time of his father’s death, the younger Donaldson returned home after graduating to take up the mantle and fill the void created in the Donaldson household. And again, Dr Williams drew on the Donaldson talent, first appointing the younger Donaldson as ambassador abroad, and then to several ministerial positions in the cabinet at home. Donaldson was to serve in both Williams’ and Chambers’ cabinets, and eventually in the Manning government. He passed away in 2013 after a battle with cancer.
That, however, was not the end of the Donaldson name. It would show up again in a petite, gracious, quietly dignified young woman, Joye Donaldson-Honeywell. Joye has written this book, Sailor Dance: The Story—a tribute to her father, John Stanley Donaldson. But she very rightly begins at the beginning with the family patriarch, her great grandfather, James Stanley Donaldson; a striking, no-nonsense gentleman employed by the Trinidad Railway who lived at first in Port-of-Spain and then in Tabaquite with roots in Tobago.
She then moves on to John Shelford, her grandfather, the father of John Stanley; and finally to John Stanley himself. These are not disparate narratives. They are, for the most part, understandably interwoven and overlapping legacies.
This small volume does more than memorialise the Donaldson family. It also shows the values and sterling qualities which this young woman possesses. Joye, a High Court Judge, calls her book Sailor Dance—a seemingly unlikely title for a book chronicling the life of the late ambassador, diplomat, public servant, teacher, and latterly citrus farmer.
Sailor Dance: The Story documents, rather poignantly, the history of this Donaldson family. A family which came from behind the bridge, but which could not be kept behind the bridge. And if John Stanley found a niche among the sailor dancers it was because he sought in all his interactions and dispensations to meet and handle their needs and to allay any fear or hesitation that they might have had in calling on and relating to him. Furthermore, although he had walked and talked with the noble, he had never lost the common touch.
Joye wanted to honour her father and other forebears and she has succeeded. In this book, one comes face to face with a family whose courage and selflessness are nothing short of spectacular. Every account is movingly presented; there can be no doubt of filial loyalty.
The elder Donaldson immortalised himself in Boca Chimes, one of our most-loved patriotic songs. His country honoured him by naming one of its educational institutions after him.
Under extreme pressure and provocation he turned to the creation of beautiful music. He might have become an embittered man, but he didn’t. John Stanley, Joye’s Dad, might also have turned sour in the face of Trinidad mauvais langue, the worst, set aside for those intrepid souls who venture into political life. He didn’t. He served his country faithfully and when it was over, he didn’t go to Tobago to plant peas, although he might have, given that he was born there.
He went instead to Tabaquite where he planted citrus. Joye too had to make a choice. She went to her desk and she wrote. She wrote steadily; and when she wasn’t writing, she volunteered her services with a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to the teaching of learning and literacy.
“Sailor Dance,” says Joye’s mother Madge Donaldson, “is really for the family.” She is wrong, this story has to be told to the wider society. It is a story of courage, of resilience, of public service, of dedication, of honour, of inspiration.
“It is a story which should be told not simply because it is a daughter’s tribute to her father, but it could provide a template for a people still struggling like Sysiphus under its burden of identity.
“This is a small book; it is a competently-written book, it is a sincere book, it is a worthwhile book, an engaging book, a tribute to a family which despite its relatively humble beginnings will remain forever etched in the annals of this twin-island republic of T&T.
• Laurel B Ince is a freelance editor and former lecturer of Literary Studies, Valsayn Teachers’ College.