The carnival atmosphere that surrounded political campaigning was known as “Partido Time.” Once in a while a presidential candidate would show up and speak in a language and using phrases that not many islanders understood the meaning of (at that time less than 10% of the 10,000 population in the Bay Islands had more than a sixth-grade education and a basic grasp of the Spanish language); the small Spanish settlements of Juticalpa, Spanish Town and Corozal were too small for politicians to be bothered with. “Partido Time” was a time associated with “rope,” free fried hog, beers, candidate caps and T-shirts. No one cared about politicians’ promises since they were rarely fulfilled.

Fast forward 40 years and the demographics have much changed. The population of 10,000 is now 100,000 and English-speaking Bay Islanders are quite probably in the minority, depending on who you talk to. Prior to the 1990s development boom, the majority of Bay Islanders were descendants of the second (Garifuna, 1797) and third (British via Cayman and Belize in the 1830s) permanent settlers of the islands (the first being the Pech, 400s to 1600s); beginning in the 1990s with the demand for skilled and unskilled labor, an influx of mainlanders came over, bought land, built communities and produced the first (second and now third) generation of English-speaking mainlanders with ID numbers beginning with 1101, 1102, 1103 and 1104.

They knew the language and the laws and brought with them strategies of land invasion. Their astuteness helped build large, well-run communities such as Barrio Los Fuertes, Policarpo, El Bight, Camponado and Mitch with voter blocks of around 10,000 in the large ones such as Policarpo (Sandy Bay) and Los Fuertes (French Harbour). Politicians now prioritize the Spanish-speaking communities during campaigns since this is where the voters are; English communities are now not the priority. A perfect example is the neglected island of St. Helena where, during the past eight years, it has not benefited from any municipal projects at all; the population recently turned their backs on political candidates during a primary election visit. The old Bay Islander dream of freedom from the mainland and indeed autonomy is fast dwindling, and if it is a distant possibility, it would now have to include the 1990s mainland settlers as equal partners.

While the population was growing exponentially over the last 30-odd years, so has development, and with it a concerning impact and risk to three facets of Bay Islands existence. First, the environment, where huge swaths of lush green hillside have been carved away by fly-by-night developers merely concerned with making a quick return and leaving.

Political leaders were given a bite, a mordida.

I was recently up in Camp Bay having a sandwich at a new cafe, and while waiting for my meal, I thumbed through a sales brochure that the developer had left there. One of the photographs showed an island which definitely was nowhere in the Bay Islands; closer examination revealed it to be Malapascua in the Philippines. It saddened me that a developer who has been welcomed here to do business had torn down acres of hillside only to dupe buyers into thinking Roatan was somewhere else. No love for the island at all, which is, I suppose, why the total destruction happened in the first place.

It is an unspoken secret that local political leaders were given a bite, a mordida, to turn a blind eye — leaders who would rather benefit from a few thousand dollars today and sell out their birthright for generations to come. If this keeps up, in another 10 years we will live in a dust bowl with no water resources.

The second impact is on the Anglo Bay Islander (Creole) culture, history and language. Unique in itself in as much as it has drawn from British (English, Scottish and West Indian in particular) culture as well as traditional Caribbean culture, it has actually come up with some contributions unique to these islands; the sweet dish “corn rice” is a perfect example. Sadly, the number of people who know how to make corn rice, a traditional “run down” or coconut bread from scratch, are few and far between. Young people nowadays are more attracted to mainland dishes like pollo chuco and tacos and are lured into eating fast-food fried chicken and pizza instead of preparing and eating traditional dishes and pastries.

Maypole and plait pole events are scarce and rarely observed or not done in the traditional way. Island calypso music using homemade instruments (washboard, spoon drums and handsaw with a bow) has disappeared completely. The pure Creole English spoken in the Bay Islands (which varies from community to community) is being watered down and in many cases pushed out and replaced by Spanish. According to Ross Graham, a linguist who wrote his Ph.D. thesis on Bay Islands English, the Creole spoken here is unique and worthy of preservation. I have been saddened on several occasions watching an interview on local news channels with a Creole (English) interviewer and another Creole — and they are speaking Spanish.

Honduranization of the Bay Islands is in full swing.

History is being neglected as well. I recently was dismayed to see that a developer had been allowed to build a road (cut and fill) right through the historic British fort at Augusta in Port Royal with no consideration for what lay beneath. Why were they given a permit to do this in the first place? This site and others in Port Royal and dotted around the islands are impressive and must be preserved. I maintain that the Bay Islands have a deeper history and far more historical places of interest than our northern sister islands, the Caymans.

The Garifuna, it is worth mentioning, have been more resilient in preserving their culture, mainly due to the priority they place on ancestral traditions as well as the strength within the Punta Gorda community and limited mixing with mainlanders and English-speaking Creoles. Punta Gorda’s main street has been transformed into a tourist mecca and a textbook example of sustainable tourism and opportunities through cultural and historical preservation; a few miles east in Pandyville, the English Creoles have a golden opportunity to do something similar if only they were given a hand and pointed in the right direction.

The third impact is the lack of loyalty to the local economy. Significant projects on the Bay Islands are being designed and built by engineering and construction firms from the mainland that have operating permits from mainland municipalities, while local firms that have long-established permits are being squeezed — some would say extorted — for unsustainable fees and taxes.

Local authorities, by turning a blind eye to mainland firms coming in, are encouraging an influx of firms that have no affinity for the island and see it only as fertile ground ready to exploit, while established island companies will always be here and have a vested interest in sustainable development. When charities come knocking at doors looking for donations, it’s the local firms that are always around to chip in. The mainland firms support mainland charities and social projects.

It is fitting to conclude that the Bay Islands are at a turning point environmentally. Creole-English Bay Islanders, as a group, are in crisis and oblivious to what is going on around them. The Honduranization of the Bay Islands is in full swing, and without knowing it, our local government leaders in all four municipalities and in Congress are facilitating the decline of a culture. We witness the paving of the way to destruction of our environment and the gradual erasure of a culture and its history. It is now imperative that voters get proactively involved.
Here is a list of ways the voting public can get involved:

There needs to be action by us, the voters, by asking questions of political leaders and holding them accountable. We need to ask them what the procedure is for developers to acquire projects and to hold them accountable for making sure projects are managed correctly with appropriate oversight measures in place. Each community council or patronato should be able to have the confidence to question why apparently damaging projects are being allowed.

Political candidates should be asked what they plan to do about stimulating economic growth for businesses and entrepreneurs wanting to start small tourism concerns such as the Creole village in Pandyville mentioned above. They should also be asked what they will do about reviving and preserving the Creole way of life through workshops and incentives to bring it to where Punta Gorda and the Garifuna are.

Voters need to get out of the partisan politics mindset that is sinking us into a swamp of conformism. Same old, same old will not save us from ourselves. Vote for the candidate — even if he or she is not well known — if they answer the tough questions with reasonable and logical answers. They are the candidate.

Citizens need to put fear aside and start pushing back against unfair local and mainland taxation and injustice.

There are tangible things that political leaders can do:
Seek and listen to advice. Gather a think tank of experience and ask them what concerns them and how they would go about addressing it. Put culture, history and local commerce as priorities. Create five-, 10- and 20-year work plans with clear objectives.

Ensure sound, consistent teaching of Bay Islands history through collaboration with regional education representatives.

Appoint a cultural city manager and a historical city councilor as full-time employees and give them the support they need.

Make a pledge to put the love of the islands before any personal or financial benefit by thinking about what sort of place we will leave for our children and generations to come.

Reach out to international nonprofits that have not only funding available but also expertise for sustainable tourism projects.

Join forces with other Bay Islands municipalities to lobby for more autonomy from the central government.

It’s not too late yet, but let us look further than the end of our noses and plan for the next generations so that they inherit a Bahamas rather than a Haiti.

Cecil Kern Hyde Elwin was born on January 16, 1942 in his French Harbour parent’s home. Mrs. Dora Cooper, of Oak Ridge assisted with the birth. Little Kern was the third of four children. He had two older brothers: Mead and Allan, and a younger sister Judy Ann.

Kern, like other students, would walk barefoot to Mrs. Vera’s school, where he completed five grades. He would also attend the Honduran government school in the mornings. At 13, little Kern was sent to study in La Ceiba at “Los Hermanos Unidos en Cristo” that would later become known as Bethel Institute.

Mr. Kern spent time in La Ceiba when the town was thriving as a banana company town, one of the biggest such towns in Honduras. In the 1950s, La Ceiba was small, colorful and full of life. Standard Fruit company created its own self sufficient world with schools, churches, and a bowling alley.

Wednesdays and Saturdays were the mail delivery days.

At the time, the only link between La Ceiba and the rest of Honduras was the narrow gage Standard Fruit railway that weaved its way to Tela. Travelers venturing further would spend the night there and continue via the narrow gage of United Fruit railway to San Pedro Sula. These railways offered first and second class seating.

Back in Roatan, young Mr. Kern started helping his father with the family business – sea fright. The family’s workhorse vessel at the time was Judy, an 85 foot schooner built by Hersel Elwin. She would sail loaded with coconuts from French Harbour to Bonacca, pick up more coconuts there, and continue on to Miami. Sometimes the boat would go only seven miles an hour, arriving in the US after four or five days. On the way back Judy would bring US produced supplies for supermarkets in the Cayman Islands and finally return to French Harbour. The cycle would repeat itself every three weeks from August to January, when coconuts were most plentiful.

While working on Roatan Mr. Kern enrolled in a correspondence course at the American School in Chicago. He completed 16 educational units and received a coveted high school diploma.

The postal system was the lifeline for islanders back then. The mail offered a way to stay in touch with family in the US and communicate with businesses on the mainland. In the 1950s, the important title of French Harbour postmaster was carried by Tyson McNab. He had a room in the back of his home that would serve as the post office, available to weigh letters and sell stamps. Wednesdays and Saturdays were the mail delivery days, when a boat would arrive from La Ceiba. Mail was both efficient and affordable. An airmail letter mailed on Monday in Florida would arrive on Saturday on Roatan.

Mr. Kern’s passion and adventure with a video camera began when he was on a visit to Tampa in 1960. He purchased an 8mm Bell & Howell movie camera. From then on he began documenting the family and island life.

At 19, in 1961, Mr. Kern was appointed a captain on Judy. Not long after Mr. Kern switched to captain, the 120 foot long boat Altier that was both bigger and faster than Judy.

Young and handsome, Mr. Kern married Ruby Nood, a young lady he met at the Blue Wave bar on the Bonacca Cay. He was 21 years of age. The couple built a home in French Harbour and had four children together: Lisa, Jed, Joni and Jenna.

At 23, during Christmas 1964, Mr. Kern found himself with Altier in the Bahamas delivering a cargo of yucca. His crewmen were using gasoline to clean an area when a spark ignited a fire. The fire quickly spread through the entire ship. As the floor of the burning Altier gave way, one of the shipmates caught the arm of Mr. Kern and pulled him up to safety. The young captain almost lost his life.

The Hyde family was always looking to expand their family business. The year 1965 provided an opportunity to get into the shrimp business that was booming in Western Caribbean, and the family purchased two shrimp boats to get their feet wet. Their business peaked in 1978, when the Hyde family managed a fleet of 23 fishing boats.

Mr. Kern remembers the first investors who saw their future on Roatan: Roy Anderson on the far East end of Roatan, Harvey Mayer who opened an ice plant in Oak Ridge, and Mike Hold bridge in French Harbour.

As an energetic octogenarian, Mr. Kern spends his time between Roatan and Florida. Since 2010 he has worked at Hybur, the Hyde family business, in an advisory capacity. Mr. Kern feels most proud to have worked with his family.

Roatan Author makes her Book Debut

Roatan’s population needs a way to anchor itself to the history of its Garifuna, English and Spanish settlers. The book “Piece of the Puzzle,” set to launch in July 2025, provides a pivotal perspective on who shaped the Bay Islands and how over the past two centuries.

The book’s author is Keila Rochelle Thompson Gough, a Jonesville-born islander. She embarked on a path to discover her own roots. That path led her down the rabbit hole of family stories, secrets and old photographs. “When I started doing research, it was not to write a book, but then all these stories started coming alive,” Gough said. “It was then I decided to write the book.”

The book-writing process was cathartic for Thompson. “It made me realize how much more confident I am and what my family represents,” says Keila. On the book’s pages, she writes about “lives rich with industry, perseverance, success and sometimes tragedy.” We learn about people who wove the fabric that became the Bay Islands. These stories had a profound effect on how the islands are shaped today. They were fundamental to the history of the Bay Islands but also shaped the character of the Bay Islanders who walk the streets of the island.

The author has relatives throughout the British Western Caribbean—Cayman Islands, Jamaica and Belize. For many of them, and many other islanders, “Piece of the Puzzle” tied the strands of their history together. The book has been a wealth of knowledge and a source of understanding about how they are related across time and archipelagos.

Thompson Gough wrote this book as a tribute to her ancestors, her contemporaries and the children who will now have a reference for knowing where they came from. It is the kind of book you can keep open for reference or dive into to read island stories.

Culture dies without someone recording its origins.

The book’s pages not only display the author’s love and passion for her native Roatan, but also represent a work of diligent research that will serve as an invaluable source for other researchers and lovers of Caribbean culture, especially Bay Islands culture.

She searched old island cemeteries, looking at tombstones. Especially the Oak Ridge Cemetery provided a wealth of knowledge. The faded tombstones revealed their secrets to a persistent researcher.

She visited neighbors and sometimes grumpy nonagenarians. She was given treasured family documents, letters and testaments. Often, the greatest wealth of information came from nearby—her great-grandmother Cora Wood.

Thompson described them and sometimes gives them life in print within the pages of her book. “I felt very privileged to be a descendant of such a determined, resolute, and historic ancestry,” writes Thompson, who began in 2008 but had to put the project aside for so many years.

She took on the role of genealogist, contacting and visiting archives in Belize, the Cayman Islands, Jamaica, and the Honduran national archives in Tegucigalpa. “There was no history book in our schools to teach us specifically about the history of the Bay Islands,” writes the author.

“The Piece of the Puzzle” is a well-written, large-format book that serves as a great resource for anyone interested in the history, culture and ethnography of Roatan, the Western Caribbean, or Honduras. The 530-page, large-format “Piece of the Puzzle” is illustrated with numerous photographs of island life and interspersed with historical information and island stories.

The book is a good source for a history lesson on Roatan and the Bay Islands. It creates a record of island families and heritage. The author traces the origins and history of Roatan’s families who arrived on the island in the 1840s: the Goughs, Coopers, Thompsons, Boddens, Abbotts, Woods and many others. It is a book one can get lost in. If you love history, if you are interested in Roatan, if you appreciate a good story, this is your milieu.

Keila has launched her book, “Piece of the Puzzle: The History of My Ancestors on the Bay Island,” at GiLeis Café in Roatan. The book was released on Amazon on July 1 and became available for sale throughout Roatan in August. It is available for purchase in Roatan, on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and as an e-book on Apple Books.

Robert McNab, along with his wife, Margret Crawford, immigrated to Cape Gracias a Dios on the northeast coast of Honduras. They arrived in 1835 from Edinburgh, Scotland. The English had a settlement on the cape, and there was a fort manned by British soldiers. A few settlers also tried to make a living there.

While there, Robert McNab heard about the Bay Islands to the west and decided to relocate there. The archipelago was beginning to attract British subjects from the Cayman Islands and beyond. When his party reached Roatan, they settled on one of the three cays inside the French Harbour channel.

There is an interesting account of the McNabs from a few years later. In 1840, an Englishman named Thomas Young, an employee of the British Central America Land Company, was on his way to Black River. His objective was to establish an English colony on the Mosquito Coast of Honduras. En route to Black River, Mr. Young’s schooner encountered a problem with the rudder and had to seek help in French Harbour.

Thus the town of French Harbour was started.

Mr. Young states in his writings that a Scotsman with a large family was the only person living there. The Scotsman that Mr. Young refers to in his writings can only be Robert McNab. Young describes the family as well-established in French Harbour. Since the Scotsman was a boat builder by trade, he repaired the schooner for Mr. Young. Mr. Young’s account states that the family was in the process of building a small schooner to trade with Belize, the Cayman Islands and other ports.

Around this time, the Jones family also settled in the town. The two island families began to marry into each other. Thus, the town of French Harbour was founded. Curiously, no one seems to know for sure why the town was called French Harbour, since it was settled by Scots. There is an old, commonly heard story that two Frenchmen were the first people to live there, and thus the place became known as French Harbour.

Robert and Margaret had a total of seven children: five boys and two girls. From 1840 to the present day, descendants of Robert McNab and Margaret Crawford have owned and operated all types of boats. They owned commercial fishing boats, such as shrimp trawlers, lobster boats, and conch boats, as well as general cargo vessels, freighters and, lastly, passenger ferries.

His first memory as a child was a church celebration. As Methodist’ Church in Coxen Hole celebrated its harvest festival, children were carrying gifts. “I had my offering, and when they came to get it, I didn’t want to give it. They said: ‘He’s going to be a mean fellow,’” said Mr. Sam.

When his mother begun working at Vincente D’Antoni Hospital in La Ceiba, the young Sam followed her there in 1947. “All the doctors came from the States, so they couldn’t speak Spanish. They would hire young ladies from the islands who could speak English,” remembers Mr. Sam. While on Roatan, he received tutoring classes. He had four years of schooling at Methodist School in La Ceiba.

In 1952, he went out to sea as an OS (Ordinary Sailor) and graduated to AB (Able Sailor). Then he went to work in the pump room. In 1955, he had saved enough money to enroll in a technical course in diesel, at a technical school in Chicago. “I always was yearning to further my education,” remembers Mr. Sam.

He saved for three years to afford a course that offered opportunities for advancement. He went to a school in Chicago that offered six months intensive courses in “diesel” technology.

After the course, Mr. Sam came back to Roatan and began working at Casa Warren, Coxen Hole’s biggest supermarket. In 1961, he met his wife, Myrel Anderson from Sandy Bay through work. “I had been running for a long time,” says Mr. Sam. The couple tied the knot and began their long life together.

He was a personable, intelligent young man, and some people were surprised to see him living on a small island. A casual acquaintance – an American doctor visiting from Oklahoma – helped Mr. Sam secure a work visa in the United States. “That is why it’s good to have a little diploma,” remembers Mr. Sam.

When he arrived in the US, he immediately applied for a job at Ford Motor Company in New Jersey. Before long, he was working in Manhattan. Mr. Sam sent for his wife to join him, and before long he was enjoying what was one of the greatest boom decades in US history – 1961-1964 – in New York City.

Eventually, island life called, and Mr. Sam came back to Roatan. “I promised him I would come back,” said Mr. Sam. He worked at Casa Warren in Coxen Hole, the island’s biggest grocery store.

The island was small, but growing, and opportunities were all around. The airline industry was connecting major locations around Honduras, and Roatan was one of them. When an airline came calling to open a regular connection with Roatan, Mr. Sam was there.

The first airline that came to the island with a connection to La Ceiba, in 1947, was Transportes Aéreos Nacionales. Soon after, LANSA came in with their service between Roatan and the coast, and Mr. Sam became its Roatan agent.

Mr. Sam remembers Bill Earle, the owner of LANSA who knew a man named Robert Webster, a licensed pilot from Guanaja, and the two went into business together. “They buckled up together and became partners,” said Mr. Grant.

He saved for three years to afford a course.

The airline needed at least one passenger to stay profitable on the Roatan route, and Mr. Sam made sure there was always someone wanting to visit la Ceiba. He worked out of his desk at Casa Warren selling the Roatan-La Ceiba tickets for 12 Lempiras (82 cents). “Within six months, we had five planes,” remembers Mr. Grant.

Mr. Sam recalls the original landing strip located on the side of the road just east of Coxen Hole. “On one side, there were coconuts, on the other, there was a road. (…) The cows, the cats, and the dogs were all running,” remembers Mr. Grant. Eventually, the nearby “Church hill” – part of the Methodist Mission – and graveyard were both leveled in order to enlarge the landing strip. “The terminal was out of thatched roof,” remembers Mr. Sam.

There were some setbacks with the airlines as well. There was an accident with a 10-seater plane coming from Cayman Islands, stopping over on Roatan on its way to Tegucigalpa. It dropped to the sea in Dixon Cove. “They just ran out of fuel. It was an error by the pilots,” remembers Mr. Sam. Two pilots and two passengers died in the crash.

Mr. Grant knew three Americans that saw Roatan’s potential and invested their money in land and projects that benefited the island. “The government didn’t start tourism here, the foreigners did,” remembers Mr. Sam. In 1960 there were three Americans that were pioneers. There was Mr. Roy Anderson on the east side of Roatan, Paul Adams on the west end of the island, and John Henley, from Birmingham, Alabama, who focused his efforts on the middle of Roatan. “He went into leasing instead of buying, and the government changed the law and foreigners couldn’t [invest any longer],” remembers Mr. Grant.

The first tourist hotels appeared on the island soon thereafter – Spyglass Hill in Punta Gorda was the first, AKR the second, and CocoView the third. As the island grew, it also found itself in the path of three powerful Hurricanes in less than a decade: Francelia in 1969, Fifi in 1974, and Greta in 1978.

The terminal was out of the thatched roof.

In 1990 Mr. Sam began working at the Roatan Municipality with Mayor Allan Hyde as his “number two man, [that] now it is called vice-alcalde… or ‘official mayor’,” remembers Mr. Sam. “I would work for him under one condition: I would work under one boss – Allan Hyde,” said Mr. Sam. “I didn’t take ‘mordida,’ I didn’t want any handout.”

The Roatan municipal budget was small, but sufficient to finance some badly needed construction projects. Mr. Sam helped to build a Coxen Hole municipal market and new City hall building. “The last one didn’t even have a good bathroom, no conference table,” said Mr. Sam.

The Roatan municipal budget was small, but sufficient to finance some badly needed construction projects. Mr. Sam helped to build a Coxen Hole municipal market and new City hall building. “The last one didn’t even have a good bathroom, no conference table,” said Mr. Sam.

He continued to preach on the island and look after his five children. Looking back, Mr. Sam sees that the biggest difference he made was that of following the true and narrow path of life. “’Let the people remember you for good, not walls, not statues,’ this is what my mother told me, and now I understand it,” says Mr. Grant.

The Smiling Sandy Bay’s Entertainment Duo

Both Walter and Dwin were born in Sandy Bay, a place where many island musicians have their roots. “My father was a music man. I watched them play and I just kept right on,” says Walter about Norman James, his saxophone-playing father. James speaks with a soft, cracked voice. Walter started playing music in his teens. He played the drums, then moved to playing the guitar and eventually lead guitar.

On 1970s Roatan there was no TV or internet, but sounds of musical instruments were all around. One of Walter’s brothers was a trumpet player, and the other played the guitar and banjo. After his brother passed away, their sons: Jimmy, Joseph and Jonny continued the family tradition on music.

As a young man, Walter ran away from the Honduran army and settled back on the island and begun performing. Saturdays were dance nights on the island back then. In the 1970s, he already played for tourists at AKR. “We had Allan Flowers; Polin Galindo wrote songs,” remembers the old times Walter.

In the 1970 and 80s, many island one-man bands or two-man groups entertained the entire Roatan population. There were many solo artists and bands playing all over the island, especially on Saturdays.

Dwin Osly Bodden was born in 1991 in what he believes is Roatan’s music center – Sandy Bay. “If you dig down deep you will find that 80% of musicians are from Sandy Bay.”

At 13-14 years of age he started at 13-14 years old with gospel music at the church of God, “My maternal grandfather, Robert Gorfry, played bass guitar,” recalls Dwin who now sings both gospel and secular music.

If you dig down deep you will find that 80% of musicians are from Sandy Bay.

The Happy Boys due have been together four years. They play at the regular tourist spots: La Placita, Sol y Mar, AKR for the tourists and charity events. Roatan music scene is heading for tourist entertainment route.

The Happy Boys also travel. They have been to Cayman Islands several times, they performed on Utila, Guanaja, and the Mosquito coast. “We play reggae, soca, country and western, Merengue, Cumbia, we are quite versatile,” says Dwin. They don’t write their own songs however. “We mostly follow music, not writing,” adds James.

By Truman Jones

Captain Scott navigated numerous ports across the Caribbean, such as Jamaica, the Cayman Islands, the Isles of Pines, Roatan, Havana, Key West, Tampa, Mobile, Cozumel, and Belize.

During his frequent visits to French Harbour, he crossed paths with Mary McNab, a descendant of one of the pioneering families in the area. Captain Scott gained recognition as one of the foremost schooner captains in the Caribbean during this era.

In 1903, Captain Scott and Mary McNab joined in matrimony. Then, on October 15, 1904, they welcomed their first child, a lovely, blonde-haired girl named Selma Hellen Scott, who would later become my mother. Captain Scott made a pivotal decision to establish French Harbour as his primary home port.

Within French Harbour, he undertook the construction of a three-story residence complete with a dock adjacent to the Harbour. The first floor served as storage for the cedar lumber he had transported all the way from Mobile, Alabama. Captain Scott, alongside Captain William C. Borden, earned recognition for their significant contributions in supplying the lumber that went into building many of the homes throughout the Bay Islands.

Tragedy struck the schooner Maggie G Williams.

In 1907, another girl was born, Leila May Scott. William C. Jones, a businessman in French Harbour, owned a store and a schooner. He offered Captain Scott a job on the schooner. By 1910, yet another girl was born, Edna P. Scott. It was at this point that Captain Scott decided to inform William to seek another captain, as he desired to stay closer to his family. Captain Scott, in collaboration with his cousin, acquired a schooner of their own in Mobile, Alabama.

Captain Scott assumed command of the newly acquired schooner in July 1911. Earlier, in February 1911, he had handed over the reins of the schooner Maggie G Williams to its new captain. However, due to illness from Malaria, the designated captain couldn’t embark on the voyage. The owner then sought out Captain Scott and requested him to undertake the favor of sailing the schooner on one final journey. Captain Scott accepted the task.

All went well in the beginning, but in May, tragedy struck the schooner Maggie G Williams. Departing from Key West with Captain Scott and ten other sailors aboard, they vanished without a trace. Captain Scott was just a few months shy of his 30th birthday.

In my opinion, as a captain myself, the weather in Florida during May contributed to the tragic incident. In May, these waters can be prone to sudden, monstrous storms that pop up out of nowhere. These storms can produce water spouts and tornadoes, and create winds upwards of 70 mph. I firmly believe it was a storm that claimed the lives of Maggie G. Williams, Captain Scott, and the ten sailors, consigning them to a sailor’s watery grave.

As I stood on the porch of my home in Brick Bay, I watched the ship carrying my grandfather’s headstone enter the French Harbour channel. The sun was shining her rays onto the ship from just above the horizon. I thought to myself: “Captain Scott, you finally made it back to your home port, on the other side of the sea that you sailed across so many times in 112 years.”

A Lady with a Smile Reflects on the Past

Mrs. Catherine Delilah Dilbert Tatum was born on the Hill in Diamond Hill on May 26, 1926. She was the seventh and final child of her mother, Belkis Tatum, from Diamond Rock. Her father, Nicodimus Dilbert, a farmer, was born in the Cayman Islands in 1882 and sailed to Roatan with his parents when he was just three years old.

When her mother passed away from pneumonia in 1933, seven-year-old Mrs. Catherine, along with two other young siblings, had to go live with relatives. She moved to West End to live with her mother’s relatives.

A neighbor, a young boy named John Jay Wood, taught young Catherine the alphabet and how to read and write. Less than ten years later, Mr. John Jay would marry Mrs. Catherine. She received three years of primary education from Victor Stanley, who taught children at the Auntie Blanch Hill Schoolhouse.

Life was simple but filled with work and sadness for young Catherine, as she saw very little of her father and siblings. To earn her keep, she had to grate 50 coconuts a day, working alongside others. Once everyone else was in bed, she would unroll her plantain trash mattress and sleep in the corridor of the small house. These simple mattresses were used throughout the island and made from recycled burlap sacks filled with soft and dry plantain leaves.

In 1941, the family that took her in purchased a store in Coxen Hole, and young Catherine followed them to work there. However, her mind was already elsewhere. In 1943, at the age of seventeen, Mrs. Catherine eloped. She traveled on a night boat to La Ceiba and married her 24-year-old neighbor, Mr. John Jay Wood, who had just finished working at the United Fruit Company in La Lima, Cortés.

Mrs. Catherine offered her help whenever she could.

The couple returned to Coxen Hole and took on the responsibility of managing the Litrico Store. Mrs. Catherine’s young husband managed the store, and every few weeks, he embarked on a round-the-island three-to-four-day journey to buy coconuts and plantains from farmers, some as far as Saint Helene. Litrico owned boats named Melly, Blanquita, and Seven Sisters, which were used to transport the produce from Roatan to Tampa.

The young couple rented a house a few hundred meters west of the store in Goat Hill, Coxen Hole. They were blessed with three children: Mary Lynn, John Wilmer, and Dainie Marie.

The municipal clock tower served as a reminder of the passing time, chiming every quarter of an hour. Sam Webster, the clock keeper, diligently oiled and wound the clock every few days. However, due to his occasional indulgence in alcohol, the clock would sometimes be neglected and stop.

In 1961, the couple acquired the Litrico store located across from Juan Brooks school, and they expanded its offerings. At Catherine D General Store, one could purchase not only foodstuffs but also gasoline, building supplies, and more. Mrs. Catherine also offered a unique service, capturing people’s photographs with her Polaroid camera.

There were five Coxen Hole stores that carried food staples, but only one was a general store. In 1950, the streets of Coxen Hole boasted five stores: the Catherine D Store, Warren Grocery, Litrico Grocery, Pollard James Store, and Maud Wilmuth Store.

Mrs. Catherine offered her help whenever she could, expecting nothing in return. Sometimes, it was during a medical emergency when Doc Polo was off the island; other times, it was when someone passed away, and the family had little money for funeral arrangements. In the 1950s, a young boy named Jack “Seven” McField suffered extensive burns from an explosion on a boat. Mrs. Catherine cared for his burns, applying burned motor oil with a chicken feather, and remarkably, the wounds healed well.

After her husband passed away in 2000, Mrs. Catherine carried on with running the store until 2006. “For some reason, I am still here,” she reflects in her soft, quiet voice. Since 2006, she has resided with her daughter, Dainie, and her son-in-law, Bill, in a property next door to where she lived back in 1933.

Today, she sits on a porch, gazing at the bustling and busy streets of West End, just across from Sundowners Bar. Her connection with West End dates all the way back to 1933.

“Life was great back then,” remembers Mr. Austin nostalgically. “My first memory is of playing maypole and playing baseball on the same spot where the baseball field now is.”
Little Austin received little basic education on Utila and as a teenager he was sent to a high school run by Jamaicans in San Francisco ‘Frisco,’ Colón. The mainland school had an island flair as it employed teachers from Roatan and Bonacca. Mr. Austin graduated with a diploma and soon was offered a job at the United Fruit Company.

He was there for four years, graduated with a degree and was soon working as a “timekeeper” for United Fruit Company in La Lima, Cortés. His boss was the infamous Walter Turnbull, of the United Fruit Company. Mr. Austin decided to increase the pay rate of the workers from 19 to 20 Lempiras, he said Turnbull was furious. “He shouted: “Boys you cannot do that,” says Mr. Austin.

He lasted two years until the general strikes of 1954. The civil disorder began when President Juan Manuel Gálvez proposed a national eight hour workday and extra pay for work on holidays. The workers labor strike first began in Tela in April of 1954 then spread to the docks of Puerto Cortés. The protests eventually halted 25,000 of the company’s workers in Honduras and 15,000 workers from Standard Fruit. After 69 days the strike was resolved with increased pay and recognition of labor unions.

Mr. Austin eventually married Jane Bodden, an Utilan, but was hardly home. The absentee marriage never really worked, and Mrs. Jane moved to Miami.

He landed a passage on a boat heading to the US from Tela. Mr. Austin started working on “five hatcher ship” running passengers and cargo between Florida and Brazil, Buenos Aires and Tierra del Fuego. “I had 22 birthdays in Tierra del Fuego,” says Mr. Austin. He worked on the ship as AB (able seaman) sailor until 1976.

In 1959 his ship was docked in Havana harbor when the Cuban Revolution broke out. Castros “Barberos” were entering Havana and Mr. Austin found himself in a middle of a shootout. “There were bullets flying everywhere,” remembers Mr. Austin. “We hid under the bed of the hotel than sneak out back to the ship.” To give him a better chance at reaching safety Mr. Austin dressed up in woman’s shawl.

I am most proud of my children.

When he finally returned to Honduras, he found work at a cattle farm in Limoncito, Colón. After two years he arrived with 62 heads of cattle on Utila. He married and ended up having nine children.
“The bible says honor your father and your mother,” says Mr. Austin pensively. He has a wrinkled, white skin and deeply set-in eyes. “I am most proud of my children,” says Mr. Austin. “I have nothing to regret.”

My 3-year-old niece was bragging to her fellow daycare inmates about her upcoming trip to the Cayman Islands for the Holidays. It sounds pretty, it evokes images of white sand beaches and piñas coladas. There are the sting rays and picturesque boating and diving activities. My mother tells me tales of the Cayman of old and how they would import pineapples from us here in the Bay islands. Their fresh produce was scarce and there was nothing there.

So how did they come so far so fast and why we in the Bay Islands, while we have much more to offer, we just have gone backwards. Maybe the answer lies in the fact that they are miles away from the country to which they are tied to. Or perhaps it’s that a developed nation such as the United Kingdom recognizes the jewel that Cayman Islands are.

I’m unsure of the answer. The truth is that the Caymans have left us in the dust. Having no hills, no water sources beyond a few wells and desalination facilities, no agriculture. Their biggest island is smaller than Guanaja, yet they have managed to have global appeal.

The Cayman Islands citizens are well cared for and their government works for them. I had forgotten the date of my last visit when I arrived at immigration in Cayman over the Christmas break. Their entry system was quick and suggested I had been there last in 2017 on a business trip.

They handle this information at the touch of a button, while we can’t even stop criminals with warrants for their arrest from coming across on the ferry, or the plane from the mainland.

Cayman Islands require stating who you are visiting or name the hotel where you are staying with a reservation. Now that is an immigration control that works.

While we belong to Honduras, we cannot stop the mainlanders from coming over or ask them where they will be staying or what is the purpose of their visit. I know I’m harping about the same issues over and over.

The Colombian government owns two small islands off the coast of Nicaragua: San Andres and Providencia. The Colombian government is aware these islands have limited natural resources and limited jobs, so they do the logical thing and restrict access to them. You may visit San Andres to vacation at any time, or enter with a job offer or as an investor. This is logical, not like our mass influx of people who have no place to stay and no job to come to.

We don’t have the infrastructure necessary to even begin to compete with Caymans. They have branched themselves into medical tourism now with their Health City. Here on Roatan, we can’t even get our hospital built. In brief words: the government has no interest in developing our Islands.

Why should they care if we represent less than 2% of the country’s population? Voting wise we are insignificant. I’m told we also represent very little for them tax wise. They would have us believe that the taxes brought in by the cruise ship passengers, airline passengers, ferry passengers, real estate sale tax, capital gains tax, and security tax don’t represent a significant contribution to the country’s economy. Well, I for one don’t think that is true. I want some transparency and accountability with these numbers. I want transparency.

I want to know what the actual amount of taxes is paid by Bay Islands to Tegucigalpa’s coffers. If we don’t, who has this information and why can’t we access it?

Bottom line is we have an albatross tied to our neck. The stench of corruption and mismanagement of funds reaches across the small stretch of sea that separates us from the continent. If we represent so little to Tegucigalpa both financially and democratically why not release us? I think we could manage just fine.