In Nebraska, Bruce Springsteen’s narrator sings without remorse, “Well, sir, I guess there’s just a meanness in this world.” And I’ve seen a lot of that meanness floating around lately. I have friends who moved because of an obsessive, vindictive neighbor. Someone else I used to work with came back from maternity leave, worked for one pay period, and then got laid off. Legal, but not exactly ethical.
My wife and I have seen more than our share of very questionable business practices from former employers and clients. The attitude seems to be that if you’re not dishing it out, then you deserve to have it taken away. Might makes right. If you won’t fluff my cloud, stay off of it.
Then there’s the drivel and vituperation that passes for civil and political discourse these days. Inconsiderate, boorish behavior is the latest fashion, spreading like wildfire. That’s why what I saw last weekend was so incredibly uplifting, reassuring and just plain cool.
My parents retired to Daufuskie Island several years ago. Daufuskie sits between Hilton Head and Tybee Islands. You can’t get there by car. On October 24, one of its three old school houses was rededicated as an island museum and public lending library. My mother was deeply involved in the project, and my youngest brother and I went down there to support the opening.
Daufuskie has always had an uneasy relationship with the outside world. The original Native Americans were wiped out by English settlers. The slaves brought in to work the plantations found themselves far more isolated than mainland communities. Like many other parts of the Carolina Low Country, the resulting mix of Christianity and West African traditions created the unique and enduring Gullah culture that survives on the island to this day.
That survival has not come easily. Rice, indigo and cotton came and went as cash crops. Slaves left the island during the Civil War, and then returned as freemen after the war was over. Oystering and fishing created a boom and respite from subsistence farming early in the 20th Century, but pollution in the Savannah River destroyed the oyster beds. Timber operations were initiated and terminated within a short five year period.
The outside world largely dealt with Daufuskie by ignoring it, with blatant racism playing a strong role in that neglect. Electricity didn’t appear until the 1950s. Phone service arrived in the 1970s.
Some people have tried to draw attention to the inequities. Pat Conroy described the treatment of the Gullah islanders, and their awakening against the white power structure, in his book, The Water Is Wide. Jimmy Buffett wrote a song that decried the encroachment of resort-style development.
However, the Gullah way of life has been rapidly dying on the island for some time. With decent education and phone service came easier contact with the outside world – and the chance to earn much more money living on the mainland. By the early 1980s, the numbers of the Gullah were no more than a small remnant of what they once had been.
The developers didn’t push the Gullah out so much as purchase large tracts of land that were already outside the ownership of the Gullah and their descendants. This influx of newcomers meant that Daufuskie settled into an odd but endearing mixture of luxury vacation housing communities, mainlanders escaping to the quiet and isolation of the island, and the remaining Gullah. There wasn’t a whole lot of interaction between these groups.
But the island is too small for this type of self-segregation to last for long. A boisterous restaurant opened that serves as a common meeting place. A couple of art galleries opened, alongside tours from Hilton Head, a t-shirt store, an historical foundation and a nature conservancy. Daufuskie Days arose as a homecoming celebration for the Gullah, their descendants, relatives and friends (other islanders often join in on the fun). Fourth of July fireworks are an island-wide event where everyone contributes to the entertainment, and the celebration lasts deep into the night.
Money and effort appeared to restore the First Union African Baptist Church and return it to use. The White School House became the first location for the library. Another old church became the first museum for preserving island history.
Then the real estate market crashed. The resort went bankrupt. Another development can’t sell much of anything after spending millions on land preparation. The third major property is losing large amounts of money every year.
So how are the islanders – both full-time and part-time, rich and poor – responding? By doing something unexpected. Rather than each group retreating into its own shell, the island has started operating as a true community. Resort members and regular folks help each other out. Friendships move easily from the gated communities to the rest of the island and back. Early efforts to form an island-wide planning program and establish formal political representation at the county level are well under way.
Good stuff – and just the opposite of the nastiness back on the mainland. Even better, the residents’ latest effort is a new museum that highlights the Gullah experience on Daufuskie, as well as a larger home for the community lending library. Former Gullah residents helped ensure historical accuracy and donated key photographs and artifacts for the effort.
The dedication last Saturday featured representatives from just about every possible cross section of island life. The best part for me was when the reverend who gave the invocation and the historian who advised the project – both women who grew up on Daufuskie – retreated into the museum to practice songs and spirituals they used to sing in school on the island when they were kids. Suddenly, from the outside, we could hear feet stomping on the floor to the a capella voices. I had to wonder – how long had it been since that building had the pleasure of a joyous stomp like that?
This story doesn’t have a happy ending yet. It’s hard to tell how the remaining Gullah feel about all of this attention. They are open when approached face-to-face, but most don’t want to be recorded. Some are reluctant to contribute anything that can be attributed back to them. It’s easy to understand why, given the way the Gullah were treated for so long.
The Island’s economy remains fragile, at best. The financial struggles of the three main developments mean that it will be a while before Daufuskie can support a grocery store or a drug store. Basic amenities and supplies must still be brought over by boat. The roads are in a state of perpetual disrepair. Most of the plans for building a true political, economic and environmental community across the island are just that – plans.
Still, the word is beginning to get out that good things are happening on Daufuskie Island. The effort to pay homage to the Gullah is genuine – and the museum is respectful to their history and way of life. Everyone who worked on the museum is hoping to be able to get more participation from the Gullah and other islanders in the future, and to be able to capture more of what it meant (and means) to be Gullah and/or live on the island, before the memories, arts and traditions are lost forever.
There’s another song on Springsteen’s Nebraska album that says, “At the end of every hard-earned day, people find some reason to believe.” I saw a great deal of that this weekend. The optimism and sense of community out on that island felt awfully good.
~ by jld0077 on October 28, 2009.
Posted in Commentariat
Words Not Spent
Offshore with The Good, The Bad and The Boss
In Nebraska, Bruce Springsteen’s narrator sings without remorse, “Well, sir, I guess there’s just a meanness in this world.” And I’ve seen a lot of that meanness floating around lately. I have friends who moved because of an obsessive, vindictive neighbor. Someone else I used to work with came back from maternity leave, worked for one pay period, and then got laid off. Legal, but not exactly ethical.
My wife and I have seen more than our share of very questionable business practices from former employers and clients. The attitude seems to be that if you’re not dishing it out, then you deserve to have it taken away. Might makes right. If you won’t fluff my cloud, stay off of it.
Then there’s the drivel and vituperation that passes for civil and political discourse these days. Inconsiderate, boorish behavior is the latest fashion, spreading like wildfire. That’s why what I saw last weekend was so incredibly uplifting, reassuring and just plain cool.
My parents retired to Daufuskie Island several years ago. Daufuskie sits between Hilton Head and Tybee Islands. You can’t get there by car. On October 24, one of its three old school houses was rededicated as an island museum and public lending library. My mother was deeply involved in the project, and my youngest brother and I went down there to support the opening.
Daufuskie has always had an uneasy relationship with the outside world. The original Native Americans were wiped out by English settlers. The slaves brought in to work the plantations found themselves far more isolated than mainland communities. Like many other parts of the Carolina Low Country, the resulting mix of Christianity and West African traditions created the unique and enduring Gullah culture that survives on the island to this day.
That survival has not come easily. Rice, indigo and cotton came and went as cash crops. Slaves left the island during the Civil War, and then returned as freemen after the war was over. Oystering and fishing created a boom and respite from subsistence farming early in the 20th Century, but pollution in the Savannah River destroyed the oyster beds. Timber operations were initiated and terminated within a short five year period.
The outside world largely dealt with Daufuskie by ignoring it, with blatant racism playing a strong role in that neglect. Electricity didn’t appear until the 1950s. Phone service arrived in the 1970s.
Some people have tried to draw attention to the inequities. Pat Conroy described the treatment of the Gullah islanders, and their awakening against the white power structure, in his book, The Water Is Wide. Jimmy Buffett wrote a song that decried the encroachment of resort-style development.
However, the Gullah way of life has been rapidly dying on the island for some time. With decent education and phone service came easier contact with the outside world – and the chance to earn much more money living on the mainland. By the early 1980s, the numbers of the Gullah were no more than a small remnant of what they once had been.
The developers didn’t push the Gullah out so much as purchase large tracts of land that were already outside the ownership of the Gullah and their descendants. This influx of newcomers meant that Daufuskie settled into an odd but endearing mixture of luxury vacation housing communities, mainlanders escaping to the quiet and isolation of the island, and the remaining Gullah. There wasn’t a whole lot of interaction between these groups.
But the island is too small for this type of self-segregation to last for long. A boisterous restaurant opened that serves as a common meeting place. A couple of art galleries opened, alongside tours from Hilton Head, a t-shirt store, an historical foundation and a nature conservancy. Daufuskie Days arose as a homecoming celebration for the Gullah, their descendants, relatives and friends (other islanders often join in on the fun). Fourth of July fireworks are an island-wide event where everyone contributes to the entertainment, and the celebration lasts deep into the night.
Money and effort appeared to restore the First Union African Baptist Church and return it to use. The White School House became the first location for the library. Another old church became the first museum for preserving island history.
Then the real estate market crashed. The resort went bankrupt. Another development can’t sell much of anything after spending millions on land preparation. The third major property is losing large amounts of money every year.
So how are the islanders – both full-time and part-time, rich and poor – responding? By doing something unexpected. Rather than each group retreating into its own shell, the island has started operating as a true community. Resort members and regular folks help each other out. Friendships move easily from the gated communities to the rest of the island and back. Early efforts to form an island-wide planning program and establish formal political representation at the county level are well under way.
Good stuff – and just the opposite of the nastiness back on the mainland. Even better, the residents’ latest effort is a new museum that highlights the Gullah experience on Daufuskie, as well as a larger home for the community lending library. Former Gullah residents helped ensure historical accuracy and donated key photographs and artifacts for the effort.
The dedication last Saturday featured representatives from just about every possible cross section of island life. The best part for me was when the reverend who gave the invocation and the historian who advised the project – both women who grew up on Daufuskie – retreated into the museum to practice songs and spirituals they used to sing in school on the island when they were kids. Suddenly, from the outside, we could hear feet stomping on the floor to the a capella voices. I had to wonder – how long had it been since that building had the pleasure of a joyous stomp like that?
This story doesn’t have a happy ending yet. It’s hard to tell how the remaining Gullah feel about all of this attention. They are open when approached face-to-face, but most don’t want to be recorded. Some are reluctant to contribute anything that can be attributed back to them. It’s easy to understand why, given the way the Gullah were treated for so long.
The Island’s economy remains fragile, at best. The financial struggles of the three main developments mean that it will be a while before Daufuskie can support a grocery store or a drug store. Basic amenities and supplies must still be brought over by boat. The roads are in a state of perpetual disrepair. Most of the plans for building a true political, economic and environmental community across the island are just that – plans.
Still, the word is beginning to get out that good things are happening on Daufuskie Island. The effort to pay homage to the Gullah is genuine – and the museum is respectful to their history and way of life. Everyone who worked on the museum is hoping to be able to get more participation from the Gullah and other islanders in the future, and to be able to capture more of what it meant (and means) to be Gullah and/or live on the island, before the memories, arts and traditions are lost forever.
There’s another song on Springsteen’s Nebraska album that says, “At the end of every hard-earned day, people find some reason to believe.” I saw a great deal of that this weekend. The optimism and sense of community out on that island felt awfully good.
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~ by jld0077 on October 28, 2009.
Posted in Commentariat