She sleeps the sleep of the just!

And nothing, and no one, can wake her from that slumber unless, of course, if it is true that: 

“…the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise…

….First.”

At least, that was her lifelong belief.

When they returned to the BVI after studying in Canada, Jennie Wheatley and her husband, Charles, were a dynamic duo.  Her dreams for the future were bound up in him and the dreams of the Territory for educational advancement were vested in such as them.

And they did not fail us.

They served in schools across the Territory from Anegada to Jost Van Dyke, the BVI High School and the HL Stoutt Community College.

Theirs was a home that children frequented (he give music lessons) and their degree of literacy and prominence were such that the community looked to them for help, guidance, and to set the standards of manners, decorum, decency. 

She was a counselor to many and her advice was in demand.

But Jennie had a heart of gold.  She was always giving.  She loved to bake and every Saturday, she made and give away most of her wares.

The volume and frequency of her gifts and the impact they had on the receivers were so pronounced that Minimus’ poem to honour Napoleon (Animal Farm) bears mentioning.

“Friend of fatherless!

Fountain of happiness!

Lord of the swill-bucket! Oh, how my soul is on

Fire when I gaze at thy

Calm and commanding eye.

Like the sun in the sky,

Comrade Napoleon!”

She was intimately involved in her church and led without taking a leadership role.  She interacted, comfortably, with the priviledged as well as with the ‘grass roots.’

I met them in 1976 when I entered the BVI High School (now Elmore Stoutt High School). Jennie was the disciplinarian and although Charles was Principal he was not the one to be feared.

Her very name, which was already a household word, buckled knees and induced obedience in students.  She only had to appear in their line of sight, and, unbidden, they followed the rules.

She did not teach me English.  That fell to her colleague, the late Calvin Hodge.  He spoke her name often in his class and it was clear that he had an idol-like respect for her.

He was not alone.

But Jennie was nothing if not a strategist and she knew her three sons and her husband, perhaps, better than they knew themselves.

When she accepted that her time had come, she wanted to leave the hospital and die at home in her own bed. She encouraged Allen to secure her discharge.  He is a doer and would move heaven and earth for her.

Once he got her home and settled, he was dispatched.  For she also knew that drama circulated around him and he would have given a blow by blow account of her departure on his blogs.  She wanted privacy.

Leon, the obedient, was easy.  She confessed to him that she was extremely tired and that was his cue to leave and let her rest.

When Charles (Dr Charles Wheatley OBE) heard her consistent coughs, he, holding her hand, called out to Lloyd to bring her some water.  But that order was belayed when she quietly told him to leave Lloyd alone.

And just as it started for them almost 6 decades ago; One man, one woman; So it ended for her.  Charles alone witnessed her last breath and the repose of her soul was complete.

This closing scene of her life’s script, from the arrival in her home from the hospital to expiration, took about four hours.

And you could almost hear her reciting lines from Geoffrey Chaucer whom she taught in her English class:

“This world is but a thoroughfare of woe
And we are pilgrims passing to and fro.
Death is the end of every worldly sore.”

And not to be outdone Shakespeare, another favorite of hers, would have added:

“To thine own self (you have) be(en) true and it must follow as night the day; thou canst not then (have) be(en) false to any man.”

The tributes and condolences keep pouring in from those whose lives she touched. The list appears endless.

For Mrs. Jennie N Wheatley MBE, was an influencer.  She was an author.  She was a community activist, an actress who breathe life into the characters from literature that she taught her students.  At times she was insouciant but she was a decent human being.

While others may be better known as cultural icons, she meticulously kept the cultural records, some in her books.

She was bold, audacious.  She had ‘a merry heart (which) maketh a cheerful countenance!' 

She was gracious.  She profusely expressed her gratitude to all those who helped her especially while she walked through the valley of the shadows.

She had class.  She had character.  She had poise.  She had presence.  She was serious about her faith.  And she embodied Solomon’s words in Proverbs that:

“A good woman is hard to find, and worth far more than diamonds. Her husband trusts her without reserve, and never has reason to regret it. Never spiteful, she treats him generously all her life long.”

Jennie Wheatley lived a dignified life and she died with dignity.  The BVI community is proud of her and grateful that she was “…a born Tortolian, a proud West Indian.”

The Territory lost big on her demise.  To many, she was a Moses.  A worthy leader, although she never sought political office.

To others she was a Daniel who ‘dared to have a purpose firm and dared to make it known.’

But she was one of a kind.  The mould was broken after her birth.  We loved her.  We respected her deeply.  And we already miss her terribly.

We dare not so much as contemplate the pain, disorientation, and sense of loss her family must be feeling.  Yet, we empathize.

Fridays recognize a woman who did so much for country and asked for nothing in return.

Jennie was a giant among men.  Her life was about service.

May her sleep, indeed, be tranquil and may her soul rest in peace.

Happy Friday!