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Slave shanties once dotted the island, and names like Chocolate, Hanging Bull, and Behavior still evoke traditions preserved in near isolation for decades. Today, the small villages that once thrived here are mostly ruins and memories. Fewer than 70 people live on the island full time, all in Hog Hammock Community, a 434-acre gathering of brightly painted houses and trailers set along sand paths and surrounded by a state-owned wildlife refuge. The few who remain stand as an example of a people who once thrived all along the Georgia and South Carolina coasts, people who trace their roots all the way back to slaves brought from West Africa to grow rice more than 300 years ago. Known as the Gullahs (or Geechees in some regions), many still speak a mix of English and West African tongues not found elsewhere. "We've been here nine generations, and we're still here. The community is still intact," says Carolyn Dowse, executive director of the Sapelo Island Cultural and Revitalization Society. But perhaps not for long. Outside pressure and a bleak economic outlook for those left on the island have prompted at least one resident to put land up for sale, and a high price could push others to follow. Community leaders fear their preserve could follow the fate of other Gullah and Geechee communities along the coast that have been swallowed up in the past few decades. Porgy and Thomas. Gullahs and Geechees once dominated the coastal Low Country. The harsh conditions isolated the sparse population, preserving the distinct linguistic and cultural ties to Africa. A rice- and fish-based cuisine and traditions like cast-net fishing and sweet-grass-basket weaving can be traced back to Africa's "Rice Coast," and scholars speculate that the terms Gullah and Geechee may have been drawn from the names of tribes near modern Sierra Leone. Americans have drawn inspiration from these vibrant traditions: George Gershwin's Porgy and Bess was about a Gullah community, and Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas grew up speaking Geechee near Savannah, Ga. Even Hollywood has paid attention: A Gullah community was featured in last year's historical drama The Patriot, set during the Revolutionary War. But the past 30 years have brought development, modernization--and change. "One of the threats is the influence of the larger culture that's infiltrated formerly isolated communities," says Emory Campbell, executive director of the Penn Center, a cultural preservation center on St. Helena Island in South Carolina. "The larger world has come to the coast and forced change." So far, Hog Hammock has been sheltered because it is surrounded by a state wildlife refuge and accessible only by ferry. The entire community was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1996. But the struggling hamlet was rocked this spring when one of the island's two bed-and-breakfasts was put up for sale. The $1.25 million asking price shocked the island's residents, who now fear increased property assessments will lead to increased property taxes and finally to an exodus. "There's no way in heaven people can pay their taxes if they're living next to a $1 million property," says University of Georgia Prof. Milton Lopes. "The development community has gotten tired of waiting for people to die off." Hog Hammock has gone through a number of owners: first French and Spanish trading companies, then several plantation owners. In the 1930s, tobacco heir Richard J. Reynolds bought the island and pushed its residents off their scattered plots, turning one end of the island into a private hunting preserve and expanding the ornate mansion that residents still call the Big House. When the Reynolds estate sold the island to the state in 1976, tiny Hog Hammock almost disappeared. The island's only school closed for lack of students in 1978; today the island's 19 children take the ferry to a school in nearby Darien, Ga., each day. Dwindling opportunities have also forced many to leave. "It's not that they don't want to be here. It's that there's nothing here for them," says Dowse. "If we're going to bring people back, they need to have jobs." Developer's dream. Hog Hammock's predicament is a familiar one to many in the Low Country. "[Sapelo] is a microcosm of what's happened coastally in terms of encroachment and threats to Gullah communities," says Campbell, who grew up on South Carolina's Hilton Head. The tony resort island is seen by those on Sapelo as a grim possible future. It was once a sparsely populated Gullah island until electricity, air conditioning, and bridges made it a real-estate developer's dream in the 1970s. Today, few of the original inhabitants are left. As developers sought to repeat the success of Hilton Head all along the coast, many of the Gullahs and Geechees who had lived there for generations found that their land was a liability instead of an asset. Rising property values on large family plots pushed up taxes, forcing many on low or fixed incomes to sell and scatter. The specter of Hilton Head-like development looms large on Sapelo. "It's got people troubled. . . . We've got our fingers crossed, toes crossed--and we're saying a little prayer, too--that land stays within the community," says Cornelia Bailey, a Hog Hammock native and local historian. But those on the island know it will take more than prayer to preserve their isolated community. Plans for a cultural village and oyster beds could create jobs on the island, and traditional crafts like the islands' distinctive sweet-grass baskets, once a utilitarian craft, are now sold as folk art. A fledgling community trust aims to keep Hog Hammock's land in the hands of the island's original people. "What we're hoping is to attract young people. What we have we have to hold on to," Dowse says. "Our land is more valuable than money. . . . This will not become another Hilton Head." |
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