Plaiting

We sat in the cool shade of a nuni fruit tree, listening to the wondrous tales of the old widow that sat before us. Her name was Francis.She was as tattered as one of those old treasure maps out of the movies. Her hands and feet were as tough as leather, as were all of the Bahamian's. She was a survivor, a real person, and I felt really lucky to meet her. 

We had met her the day before while she was plaiting. Plaiting is almost like a Bahamian braid. More on that subject later. 

When we asked her what she did before plaiting, she answered, "I went fishin'. Now I don't have no fish hooks left, so I plait".  Right then, I knew what I had to do. As soon as I got back to the boat, I pulled out the tackle box and got together a baggie filled with fishing hooks, weights, and swivels. I gave it to her the next day. She was so grateful that she invited us to come and plait with her. and so, she taught us how to plait.  

Plaiting with Francis

Wren and Francis

Palmetto fronds Francis gave us

Bahamian house with palmetto fronds drying

Drying palmetto in our v-berth

Plaiting is an art. It is really beautiful. The Bahamians will plait long strips, roll them up, and send them off to Nassau, where they stitch the plaits into hats, dolls, bags, baskets, and a ton of other things. The plaits are made out of Palmetto leaves. They are long and skinny, so that they can be woven and braided easily. That's how a lot of the Bahamians make money.

The new growth on the palmetto (or thatch palm) used for plaiting

Plaited goods or Fritos anyone?

Francis told a lot of stories that made us stop plaiting and sit spellbound at her feet.My favorite was the one where, as a kid, she and her siblings would follow the chickens around the woods to collect eggs because they didn't have a coop. They just layed eggs wherever they wanted. I thought that was really funny.

All too soon, it was time to say goodbye. We headed back to Kiawah with heavy hearts, and beautiful memories of Francis still fresh in our minds. Through all the sadness, a smile played on my lips, for we would be pulling anchor and heading to Bitter Guana Cay.

The island is home to a colony of endangered iguanas...

Love,

Riley