Black History Month 2024

Prior to the NHS being established, healthcare facilities and hospitals were funded by wealthy individuals or families. Our Highland hospitals have therefore had some unexpected origins, which we’ve benefited from for hundreds of years.

At least eight hospitals across Highland were part-funded with the great amount of money that was brought into the region from colonising other countries, some of it profits from the slave trade. Let’s shine a light on some of the links Highland healthcare has with the spoils of empire.

​We’ll begin in Skye, whose first hospital, Gesto Hospital in Edinbane, opened in 1878 and was built from the profits of estates in India owned by Kenneth Macleod. He’d made his fortune there through owning tea and indigo plantations[1] worked by indentured labourers and left £10,000-£30,000[2] (equivalent to £1-3million in today’s money) to specifically build a hospital to benefit ‘his countrymen the people of Skye.’

Cultivation of indigo in Bihar, where Kenneth Macleod’s lands and plantations were, was “forced on the peasants who had to produce the material for foreign markets.”[3] Tenant farmers were subject to extreme violence in turning over their rice fields to grow indigo. Entire harvests plus additional monies had to be given to British landowners. In nearby West Bengal this exploitation led to the Indigo Rebellion, where an uprising of farmers aimed to force out the indigo plantation owners.

Colonising other countries and establishing industry there was often a family or neighbourly affair, sometimes with whole extended families or townships leaving the Highlands to settle the far reaches of empire. The personal networks were key to ‘success’ and Kenneth’s story is similar: he travelled out to Kolkata (formerly Calcutta) at 16 to meet his cousin, a Mackinnon, and later brought over his nephew to work for him. He was surrounded by businessmen who were fellow Highlanders, and spoke Gaelic: Mackenzie, McInlay, Ogilvie, etc.[4]

A second hospital in Skye, the Martin Memorial Hospital in Uig, was built in memory of John Martin who had travelled to Sri Lanka (then Ceylon) as a coffee planter.[5] Most likely he owned or managed coffee plantations there, as the term refers to the ‘planter class’ or ‘planter aristocracy,’ Europeans who had established plantations across the empire. (The Planters’ Association of Ceylon exists to this day.)

The Mackinnon Memorial Hospital in Broadford was part-funded by James Coats of Paisley, manufacturers of silk and cotton thread. Their raw materials were shipped in from across the empire, and made them one of the largest companies in the world at that time. (Coats also funded a library for the Nicholson Mackenzie hospital in Strathpeffer.[6])

​Mackinnon Memorial hospital also received a donation from the Governor of Uganda.[7]

A further hospital in Skye, Ross Memorial in Portree, was named after Dr. David Ross who worked in the plantations of Surinam[8] (then Dutch Guiana) providing healthcare to enslaved people – where many other Highlands men had established sugar and cotton plantations worked by enslaved Africans – before he later moved to Skye. There were at least 18 doctors from the Highlands working in the plantations of Guiana – colonies of the British and Dutch – and the West Indies, according to ongoing research work by author, historian and former NHS Highland chair David Alston.

Continuing our journey to Lochaber, Glengarry Cottage Hospital was converted from a house in 1880 by the Ellice family.[9] Edward Ellice Senior was director of the Hudson’s Bay Company, a vast fur trading company which furthered French and British colonial rule in what was to become Canada. (His son, also Edward, later became deputy director of the Hudson’s Bay Company.)

Edward Senior also co-owned eight sugar plantations in the Caribbean and what was British Guiana (now Guyana) with 300 slaves, and received government reparations of at least £7,000 (around £676,000 in today’s money) when the enslaved people were freed.
 
Glencoe House was built by Donald Smith, Lord Strathcona, in 1895 as his home, and was later converted to a hospital in 1940 during the Second World War. He also provided funds to build Leanchoil Hospital in Forres.[10]

Despite his humble origins in Forres from a family of crofters, Donald Smith made his name and fortune by part-funding the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR), a 7,000-mile railroad to fulfil the colonial vision of Canada, the new British America, as a country from coast to coast.

While an engineering marvel, it was essentially a land-grab from the First Nations peoples under threat of violence. Simultaneously, the railway became a way to contain and control (assimilate and segregate) the indigenous peoples, as the new Canadian government created reserves in which First Nations would now live. The railroad disrupted bison migration patterns and with it First Nations’ ways of life to survive and thrive. (They were subsequently starved as the government attempted to save money by not providing them food.) Vast inequalities persist to this day for First Nations, Métis and Inuit peoples within Canada, stemming from this era.

​Smith was one of a number of Highlands men who were instrumental in forming Canada as a country, including his cousin George Stephen from Dufftown, who also part-funded the CPR and later built a hospital in his hometown, and also John A. Macdonald, the first prime minister of Canada who was born in Glasgow but whose family was from near Aviemore. Under his government the Indian Residential School system was begun which forcibly removed indigenous children from their families and was found by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in 2015 to amount to ‘cultural genocide.

Moving on to the Highland capital of Inverness, around a third of the original funding for the Royal Northern Infirmary came from colonial links in Bengal as well as plantations in the Caribbean which were owned by local families and run on slave labour.[11]

Lachlan Mackintosh of Raigmore Estate contributed funds made in Kolkata (formerly Calcutta, West Bengal) not only to the Infirmary[12] but also to Inverness Royal Academy which similarly also received money from plantations and the slave trade in the West Indies. He later became a Director of Inverness Royal Academy.

The Infirmary later received money from local individuals who had made their fortune in Canada,[13]  Tasmania,[14] and India[15], all places where the British were expanding their colonial and economic interests.

Similarly the original Nairn Hospital was largely funded through many smaller donations by local ‘military men’ in Bengal.

Not only hospitals but Highland schools were funded through slavery and empire, including Inverness Royal Academy, Tain Academy, Fortrose Academy and schools in Cromarty. As a consequence of relations between Highland plantation owners and enslaved women – as ‘mulatto’ lovers, as wives or ‘country’ wives, or through sexual violence – it was said there were proportionately more mixed-race children in 19th century Inverness then there are today – listen to 25-mins of BBC Good Morning Scotland with David Alston explaining more.

Hospitals of course were funded in several ways; here we aim to highlight only some of the connections to Empire. But what’s the relevance for us in Highland here and now?

Knowing and understanding these connections may be a first step to realising the often complex journey of wanting to improve the lives of our families and communities – which is very relatable – but which may be at the expense of others.

How does ‘do no harm’ play out today? What practices are we personally and collectively a part of which might contribute to ongoing inequality and injustice, both here in the Highlands and elsewhere?

When we consider these questions and our colonial roots, we acknowledge and address how colonialism and oppression still shows up in our modern day lives – how much it may be embedded, only being noticeable to those it most impacts. How much do we notice it, or feel it? And if we don’t, what might we be missing?  
 

A postscript: This article, written in English, is a sign of colonialism. Gaelic was the dominant language of the land here in the Highlands for several thousand years, English for only several hundred. There was concerted English effort over many centuries to stamp out Gaelic – it was physically beaten out of children at school, amongst many other measures – and to restrict Gaelic cultural practices. It was largely successful.


Endnotes/references:

[1] HFHS-Journal-341-S.pdf (highlandfhs.org) p12
[2] History of the Macleods with genealogies of the principal families of the name (nls.uk) p198
[3] Indigo Cultivation and the Rural Crisis in North Bihar in the Second Half of the Nineteenth Century on JSTOR p72
​[4] Full text of "History of Behar indigo factories ; Reminiscences of Behar ; Tirhoot and its inhabitants of the past ; History of Behar light horse volunteers" (archive.org) p228-229
[5] JC & SJ Leslie (2011) The Hospitals of Skye p26
​[6] Strathpeffer Hospitals (historyofhighlandhospitals.com) p13
[7] JC & SJ Leslie (2011) The Hospitals of Skye p35
​[8] Ibid p44
[9] JC & SJ Leslie (2013) The Hospitals of Lochaber p46
​[10] Ibid p73
​[11] JC & SJ Leslie (2017) The Hospitals of Inverness p36
​[12] Ibid p47
[13] Ibid p67 and p84
[14] Aberdeen Press & Journal, 13 May 1896 (accessible at https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/)
[15] JC & SJ Leslie (2017) The Hospitals of Inverness p73 and p100

This is my new favourite view in the Highlands, if not the whole of Scotland (but that's a bold claim): Ratagan Pass. My goodness.
​
But these hills were not always here....

The Five Sisters of Kintail hills in these images once were daughters of a local clan chief.

There were in fact seven daughters, but amidst a terrible storm one night a ship struggled ashore with two handsome Irish brothers aboard, and they fell in love with the two youngest sisters.

Grumbling about this, the older sisters were promised that after returning to Ireland, five more handsome Irish brothers would be despatched back to take their hands and hearts.

The sisters watched the loch and waited. They watched and waited by the loch for many years. No ship appeared.

The clan chief sought the advice of a bodach, a seer, who told that there were indeed no brothers.

In disbelief, the five sisters visited the bodach themselves. He told of them growing elderly, bitter and haggard if they continued waiting.

Instead, he promised that they could stay beautiful, adored and admired. They must go to the head of Loch Duich and wait.

And so the five sisters stood at the head of the loch, looking out over the loch.

And the bodach turned them to mountains, forever looking out down Loch Duich.

They remain admired to this day.

​
I love mountain stories.

I am delighted that Strathspey Storywalks is included in Visit Scotland's brand new Witch Trail Map, for Scotland's Year of Stories. 

The map is a good mix of people and places, celebrating a love of nature as an invite for a more thoughtful perspective on what and who a 'witch' is, witchcraft in general, and historical as well as present injustice.

My approach on Storywalks is very much to honour the memory of so-called witches by tuning in to the quiet voices within the landscape - we have many stories of 'witches' here in the Cairngorms, and places where they lived, worked and died.

Looking at Scotland, there are important things being driven forward at the moment: Witches of Scotland is pushing for a legal pardon for all those accused and killed of witchcraft - follow them to stay up-to-date with the campaign. Due to their work, Nicola Sturgeon gave a formal apology this year on International Women's Day, noting the "egregious historic injustice" to all those accused of witchcraft.

Also follow Remembering the Accused Witches of Scotland, who secured an apology from the Church of Scotland for its central role in the persecution in June this year. 

There remains lots of work to do! In the meantime, download the map of trail locations:

Here's July's story for Scotland's Year of Stories - a short one from Orkney, where I was last week, and explains how some of the islands were created...

It's adapted from Tom Muir's story The Caithness Giant in his book of Orkney folk tales, The Mermaid Bride.

Apologies for the sound quality, my phone had a funny turn!
​
#YearofStories2022 #YS2022 #Orkney

Here's a short story for May, for Scotland's Year of Stories. It's one of my favourites from the Isle of Skye, somewhere in the Cuillin mountains...

First heard from storyteller Beverley Bryant at the Scottish International Storytelling Festival a few years ago.

#strathspeystorywalks #yearofstories2022 #isleofskye #skye

Last week I walked part of the Skye Trail to Portree, accompanied by so many stories along the way. The folklore and meanings of places give a totally different perspective on the hills and lochs: they become familiar, places that generations of people have made their own, living and dying there. 

It means you can never be bored, even if the weather is pretty shocking - especially true in this case - as you're figuring out the land, the story places, and marking meaning as you walk. 

​Broadford petrol station
...is actually a fairy knoll. Fairies may be spotted dancing about this little promontory :) 

​Beinn na Caillich
...towers over Broadford. It's an impressive hill, with a sizeable cairn on the top, easy to spot. The cairn is said to be the grave of a Norse princess, who loved and missed Norway and wanted to be buried looking out to sea in the direction of her homeland. The mountain is named for her - though some say it's named for the cailleach Beira, goddess of winter and creator of Scotland, others for 'Saucy Mary', a Norwegian princess who married a MacKinnon and set up a toll for all the passing ships at Kyleakin.

​Tigh nan Druinich
...means the house of the craftsmen, and is underground, somewhere near this quarry at Kilbride - hopefully undisturbed! The house is supposed to be round, built of stone, and very small - the people who lived here were equally small, but extremely skilled. Both St Patrick and St Columba employed them to embroider their vestments. 

​Clach Oscar
...is a very short detour from the road at the head of Loch Slapin. The stone was thrown here by Oscar, one of the famous Fianna giants, when he was in good spirits and testing out the weight of stones before he threw (and created) Soay. 

​Loch Sguabaidh
...was the home of a waterhorse or kelpie for many years. This particular kelpie had a liking for pretty girls - and in fact if a girl was taken and escaped, her reputation as a beauty was assured. Some people think this waterhorse was the beast of the Bealach na Beiste, the pass of the monster, not far above the loch, where a Mackinnon of Strath fought and killed a great beast. 

​Burn of Misfortune
...is the English name for Allt na Dunaiche, on the west side of Loch Slapin near the Blà Bheinn carpark. Here, seven girls and a boy made their way up into the hills near the waterfall to spend the summer at the shieling, or summer farm. 

One evening, the girls went off to a wedding, leaving the young boy alone. To his surprise, in through the door walked seven cats and settled themselves by the fire, all chatting away to each other. They ate all the butter and cream but made it look as if the vessels were still full - and then disappeared into the night. 

When the girls returned, the boy told the tale, but the girls laughed and disbelieved him, pointing to the full buckets of milk and cream. 

The next night, the cats returned, and by dawn, all the girls were dead. Their mothers, arriving that day to fetch the milk and cream, cried out in sorrow, 'Airigh mo dunach' - meaning shieling of my misfortune or woe. 

​Kilmarie graveyard
...is a little haven right by the coast, and apparently on the site of a stone circle. The ruins of the old church are also gone, washed away in a huge storm in the 1920s. A sailor had recently been buried in the graveyard and it was said the sea came in to claim him back. There was a strong belief that the sea will search for her souls, so bodies found at sea should always be buried on the water's edge, in case she should flood the land seeking them. 

​​The Cuillin Hills
How did the Cuillin get their name? There are several theories; here is one.

Many moons ago, Sgiath, the mighty warrior goddess, set about establishing a school in the mountains to teach the art of war (in fact Skye might well be named for her - or the other way round - Eilean Sgitheanach). 

The school became known far and wide, turning out the very finest warriors the world over. 

News of the school and its female instructor who had never lost a battle, reached the ears of Cuchullin (or Cú Chulainn), the mighty warrior in Ireland. He desired to see this or himself, and took three steps from Ulster to Skye, arriving at Sgiath's school in the mountains. She took no notice of the famous warrior, despite his prowess and the speed with which he learned the martial arts. Frustrated, he challenged every single student to a battle, and won every single one. 

At which, Sgiath showed a little interest, and gave permission for him to fight her daughter - quite an honour. Cuchullin and Sgiath's daughter fought "for a day and a night and another day" until he defeated her. 

At which, Sgiath's wrath was swift and mighty. She came down from the mountaintops, and fought Cuchullin for many days and many nights, in the mountains, lochs and sea, but neither gained the upper hand. 

Sgiath's daughter meanwhile was busy collecting hazelnuts - known for gifting wisdom - to make a stuffing for roast deer. She coaxed them to come and eat. Sgiath thought, "The hazels of knowledge will teach me how to overcome Cuchullin."
And Cuchullin thought, "The hazels of knowledge will teach me how to overcome Sgiath.

Actually, the hazels of knowledge taught them that neither would overcome the other, so they made peace and promised one another to come to the other's aid should they ever need it. 

And so, Sgiath presented Cuchullin with a weapon which he would come to be known for - the Firbolg, made by the fairy folk in the mountains - and named these hills after him. 

​The Black Cuillin
...used to be just a wide flat moor, stretching to the sea. Beira held a maiden captive, who she swore would be her prisoner until she washed a brown sheep's fleece until it was white. A rather impossible task! 

It just so happened that Spring was in love with this maiden, and he wanted her free. He had reasoned with Beira, he had argued with Beira, and he had fought with Beira - but she refused to give her up. 

Finally Spring turned to his ally the Sun for help (for where would Spring be without the Sun?). The Sun spotted Beira striding across the moor one day, and flung his spear at her. He missed, and Beira cowered under a holly bush for protection, but the fiery spear scorched a blister into the earth, six miles wide and six miles long. 

For months the earth bubbled and rose, until at least the smoke and the hissing steam cleared to reveal the dark, spiky peaks of the Black Cuillin. Because the mountains were made by the fire of the Sun, the enemy of Beira, the goddess of winter, this is why snow rarely settles on them for long. And what of the maiden? We don't know, but that's how the Black Cuillin came to be! ​

​Glamaig
At her foot, there was a lodge to which the Fianna warriors would return to after hunting 5,000-6,000 deer in a day. 

​Suidh Fhinn
...overlooks Portree. Finn's seat is where this legendary warrior used to sit and bark orders to drive the deer, all the way over in Strath. We must assume he had a very loud voice, and very good eyesight...

​
Note on stories: all stories are based on Otta's book below, but are written in my words. 

References
Otta Swire (1961) Skye: The Island And Its Legends
Geoff Holder (2010) The Guide To Mysterious Skye & Lochalsh
https://www.ainmean-aite.scot/ 
https://www.dwelly.info/

Outlaws, thieves and a president - here's my February story for Scotland's Year of Stories, up Òrd Bàn today in glorious weather!

Featuring Kennapole Hill, the Cats' Den, the Thieves' Road, and Loch Gamhna - all at Rothiemurchus, just south of Aviemore. 

The main story is from 'Guide to Aviemore & Vicinity,' a treasure trove from 1907 by A McConnachie.

This story has unpleasantly familiar 'she asked for it' vibes, symptomatic of the patriarchal society we live in: women must amend their behaviour, dress, etc - or be amended - rather than men amending their behaviour.

(Sorry for the wind noise, and suspect Gaelic. It was all unplanned and off the top of my head! Kennapole actually means head of the pool or pit, whoops.)