Black History Month

Liz Saville Roberts Excerpts

Thursday 28th October 2021 Westminster Hall

[Liz Saville Roberts (Dwyfor Meirionnydd) (PC)]

I thank the hon. Member for Streatham (Bell Ribeiro-Addy) for securing this debate, which I am deeply honoured to support.

I would like to take the opportunity to put on the record a precious piece of history from my constituency, in the sincere hope that it will add to our appreciation of the value of Black History Month to a wide range of people in Wales and beyond. During last Thursday’s business statement, I was proud to mention the launch of the John Ystumllyn rose. The hon. Member for Wycombe (Mr Baker) said that it would have been nice to have more Conservatives attend the debate, but I must give credit to the Leader of the House, who welcomed the initiative with great enthusiasm.

John Ystumllyn is the first—there will be a number of firsts in my speech—definitively recorded black person in north Wales, and he worked as a gardener near Criccieth in Dwyfor in the 18th century. The John Ystumllyn rose is therefore a particularly poignant way to remember his life and times, but it is also a powerful symbol in and of itself. It has been created by Harkness Roses of Hitchin, which has worked with Zehra Zaidi’s We Too Built Britain campaign to make available what is believed to be the first ever rose named after a minority ethnic person in the United Kingdom.

Who was John Ystumllyn? Not surprisingly, there is quite a lot of uncertainty, and there also late records, which have their own pattern of recording. We believe he was born in west Africa around 1740. He was abducted by slavers as a young boy, with a late 19th-century account by Alltud Eifion, who was from Porthmadog in north Wales, saying that John’s last memory of his mother was how she protested as he was taken away. We do not know the name by which his family knew him, but we do know that he never saw them again.

By whatever route he arrived, we know that the boy was sent to live with the landowning Wynn family, who owned, and whose descendants still own, extensive estates in north Wales and north-west England. He learned Welsh and English, and he was baptised as John Ystumllyn. He became a well-known and talented gardener who was especially known for his skills in growing flowers. It is recorded that he was a handsome young man and much admired by the young women of the neighbourhood, and we are fortunate to have a portrait of him from 1754. He eloped with a maid who worked at Ystumllyn, Margaret Gruffydd of Hendre Mur, Trawsfynydd, and the pair were married at Dolgellau in 1768. Because they eloped from their jobs, they both lost their jobs, but John shortly found new employment in the area and was then offered his former post again. He must have been a good gardener—too good to lose.

The couple had seven children and many descendants, some of whom are believed to still be in the area. John died in 1786 and his grave can still be seen at Ynyscynhaearn churchyard, although it does give an incorrect date of death. His story conveys romance and a strong sense of how our roots are all intertwined. I have deliberately included some of the relevant place names because they resonate strongly not only with historians, but with people whose history and sense of belonging is closely tied to a sense of place. We cherish the memory of John Ystumllyn locally and it is very important to us, as he is so associated with those place names, which resonate with the history of north-west Wales.

We should also remember that while John was growing up and settling in Ystumllyn, the ships being built at Pwllheli, 10 miles away, included vessels that were designed to service the slave trade. A traveller’s diary from 1801 describes a ship—probably the Mary—as a “large Guineaman”, which is a byword for a ship involved in human trafficking from the Guinea coast of west Africa. It was fitted for 600 slaves. In Wales, there is a long history of the profits of slavery contributing to local economies—from the well-known triangular trade of copper, slaves and sugar, to what was known as Welsh plains: coarse wool made by small-scale weavers in Maldwyn and Meirionnydd, whose goods were sold to plantation owners to clothe slaves in the 18th century.

These stories all need to be told, and I am proud that the Welsh school curriculum—there has been some talk about school curriculums—will now include guidance on the history of black, Asian and ethnic minority people that is to be taught to all children who attend state schools in Wales. I mentioned earlier the delight locally—schoolchildren learn about John Ystumllyn, and that is a great source of pleasure and making connections.

I am also very proud that the first statue of a named, non-fictional woman in an outdoor public space in Wales was unveiled a month ago in Cardiff to celebrate the life and work of Betty Campbell. Betty Campbell was a first. She was the first black woman to be appointed as a headteacher in Wales, at Mount Stuart Primary, Butetown. I mentioned the proximity between Criccieth and John Ystumllyn and Pwllheli and the slave galleys. Butetown is very close to Her Majesty’s prison Cardiff. While we celebrate these histories, we have to remember the proportion of black people imprisoned in Wales. In 2017 this stood at 72 people per 10,000, while the proportion of white people is 15 per 10,000. The proportion in all the prisons in England and Wales is desperately high and wrong, but in Wales it is staggeringly wrong.

While we celebrate these firsts and successes, we must remember this great and most shocking indication of inequality. There are many, I freely grant, but in the 21st century disproportionality in imprisonment is something that we must seek to use as a marker of what we do not tolerate. It is evident that history can be both fragrant and thorny. Perhaps it is best to close with the rose of John Ystumllyn and remember that gardens have always been places that bring people together. Diolch yn fawr iawn.