Upon arrival at Bimini, we anchored offshore and went swimming while waiting for the customs office to close. After the customs office is closed, we don’t have to pay any entrance fees! The Cubans used to come to The Bahamas to fish, and subsequently began to fish out all the waters. To battle this The Bahamas instated a $300 fee to all boats that come to its waters. This fee not only drove away the fisherman, but also the weekend boaters from Miami. The boaters from Miami brought business with them, and their absence was noticed in Bimini, as we were about to see.
With the customs office closed, we motored into Bimini through the channel. The shore to our port side was covered with closed down marinas and decrepit buildings. The only noticeable movement besides a few golf carts on the street was a large trash incinerating factory, which was spewing black smoke into the clouds and an ominous hum into the air. Run down as it was, there were a few boats moving about.
We set anchor and went ashore. Grant had plans of plundering an old shipwreck for parts, while we were going to walk around the island to see what we could find.
Once ashore, there was a dirt road about 20 yards from a conch shell filled beach. We cut through the pine trees and emerged on the road. As we walked into town, we were passed by a good combination of golf carts and cars. The vehicles seemed to abide by no laws. Although they would not speed they all had different tactics regarding the side of the road that they drove on, and how closely they would drive to a pedestrian. The road was surrounded by a good combination of run down row houses and simple, family owned convenience stores. The busiest of bars had four people in them, and the shops were all brightly colored but showing their influence from the sun.
There was an interesting mix of people on the streets. Mostly locals, but occasionally there would be a golf cart of people who were obviously tourists. They were either young, loud and boisterous or older and more reserved.
As we were waling, a toothless man approached us.
“How you guys doin’ tonight?” He asked us.
“Just fine, how about yourself?” I responded.
“I’m excellent.” He got right to the point. “You guys ever had rum and coconut jelly?”
“Nope, but I would be willing to try some.”
“Alright, I’ll make you guys a deal. You guys get the rum and I’ll get the coconut, and we’ll make some drinks.”
His motive was become more obvious, but I was still game. After finding a suitable coconut tree, he climbed it as if his hands and feet had adhesive on them. Once at the top, coconuts began to fall and bounce on the ground. We quickly gathered them and our friend came down the tree.
Coconuts – check. Next up was the rum. I bought some rum from a convenience store, and Tawfer got some cups from a bar. Our friend found an old beer bottle on the ground, lined it up with the end of the coconut, and after a few solid hits he drove a circular hole in the end of the nut, perfect for pouring. We made the drinks, and enjoyed them.
Our friend’s motive became crystal clear when he started talking of continuing this activity. Granted he had satisfied his motive of free alcohol through us, but we had some fun with it too.
While drinking our concoctions, a man by the name of Big Boy was walking by. Big boy was a drummer, and was on his way to play in a drum circle. This interested all of us, especially Tawfer. A real Bahamian drum circle! Big Boy told us the name of the place he was playing at, and we told him we would meet him there.
Finding a drum circle on an island is never hard. You simply follow the noise. We came upon a marina, which was obviously the host of the drum circle. We entered the marina, and what we found was not exactly what we had hoped for.
Big boy was playing bells and a whistle. Around him were two boys, about the age of twelve. They were both playing drums that were about the size of themselves, with lambskin from local animals stretched over the top. Another man was pounding away on a tam. The group was standing on a dock, and all around them were white vacationers, dancing and cooking and eating. The docks were full of large power yachts. The vacationers were taking pictures of the drummers, while smoking cigars and misusing professional camera gear. I wanted to take pictures, but I didn’t want to put these kind locals on showcase. The music was good, and I took a few shots anyways.
Dripping with sweat, the drummers decided to take a break. The tourists on yachts offered them food and beer, which they gladly accepted. In fact, I was also offered food from a lady yelling at me to eat in Spanish. I went over to the food and found lobster tail and rack of lamb, among other things. I guess there is a such thing as a free lunch, or rather dinner. After helping myself, I went and sat back down next to Big Boy. I found out that he is a mason by profession, but there just isn’t any work in the area. He spoke of his girlfriend, who was at church.
“Why aren’t you at church with her?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m not Christian.” He responded. I pointed to the small gold cross around his neck.
“Well what is that then?”
“I don’t need to be a Christian to have the Lord on my side!” he responded with a chuckle.
After the drummers had finished eating, they went back and got another plateful of food, and covered it in Aluminum foil. After inquiry, I discovered they were bringing the food back home for their families to eat. Big Boy informed me that they had come down to the marina to play for the free food, as times are tough in Bimini.
We left the marina, and walked back to the beach where we left Grant. Still unsatisfied with the amount of adventure, we decided to go into the resort to try to get some ice. At the end of the road, there is a large arch, with a guard post on either side. The guards were there, but we just walked through like we belonged. They looked at us funny, but gave us no trouble. We were obviously not locals, but also not quite tourists. The advantage to this is that you can go anywhere, but the disadvantage is that you don’t really belong anywhere either. Once inside the archway, the landscape went from wild and trash ridden to perfectly maintained and landscaped. The buildings were new, the public bathrooms immaculate and an assortment of shops looking displaced from downtown coconut grove.
Why is it that so many people travel to a new location, but then cut yourself off completely from what is really there? It is a lose lose for everyone. The traveler never gets to experience anything new, except some weather. The local residents suffer if they depend on the tourism. All so some single investor can benefit, at the cost of so many locals.
We drank a ton of their water, used their bathrooms, and found a half built house to sleep in. We laid down on the porch, and fell asleep watching thunderstorms far out at sea.
"What happened to Topher?"
