Bahamian Culture

In January 1712, a West African king named John Canoe defeated Dutch forces at Elmina Castle. On Christmas Day that same year, he destroyed the gunpowder room at Fort Metal Cross. Today, his name echoes through the streets of Nassau every December 26 and January 1, worn on the backs of dancers in towering crepe-paper costumes. Junkanoo is the Bahamas’ national festival — a competition of music, dance, and costume that draws thousands of participants and spectators. But the name itself carries a contested history. Who was John Canoe, and how did a 17th-century Gold Coast warrior become the

Salt Cay is one of those places that sounds too quiet to be interesting until you learn what happened there. The island, part of the Turks Islands chain, was once the centre of a salt industry that supplied roughly one sixth of the salt used in British North America before the American Revolution. That statistic from the Turks & Caicos National Museum reframes the whole place — these shallow, wind-scraped salinas were a strategic asset, not just a scenic backdrop. This article covers the history of salt production on Salt Cay, what remains of that industry today, and how

Sloop sailing isn’t just a sport in the Bahamas; it’s a living, breathing piece of the nation’s cultural heart. Born from the working boats that once connected the far-flung islands and sustained their communities, it has evolved into a thrilling competitive spectacle, and an enduring symbol of Bahamian identity. From the meticulously handcrafted sloops to the fiercely loyal crews and the vibrant onshore celebrations, the sport encapsulates the spirit of the islands, their history, and their unwavering connection to the sea. The Genesis of the Bahamian Sloop: Working Boats to Racing Legends The Bahamian sloop’s story begins not with

In the Bahamas, the craft of plaiting—whether in hair or straw—is a living archive of skill, passed down through generations, often learned by children as young as five, and still practiced today as both art and livelihood. On Long Island in the Bahamas, a group of women gather at the Long Island Museum in Buckley’s to demonstrate a craft they learned as children. Isabella Knowles learned by riding on her brother’s shoulders while watching others plait. Patricia Darville’s mother would “cut her butt” if a plait did not meet her standards. These women are straw plaiters, and their work—transforming

In the Bahamas, the old stories are not just told — they are performed. A single folktale can shift with the teller, the audience, and the island, making each telling a unique act of creation. On a quiet evening in a settlement on Long Island, I watched a woman named Miss Pat settle into a chair on her porch. A small crowd of neighbors and children gathered, and without preamble, she began a story about a shape-shifting spirit called the Chickcharney. Her voice changed pitch for each character. She paused for effect, then slapped her knee at the punchline.

The Bahamas’ maritime history is much more than just pristine beaches and turquoise waters; it’s a compelling tale of pirates, wreckers, blockade runners, and eventually, pioneering sailors and seafarers who shaped the very fabric of Bahamian culture and identity. From the notorious era of piracy to the development of unique seafaring skills, the ocean has profoundly influenced Bahamian traditions, economy, and social structure. The Golden Age of Piracy in the Bahamas Imagine Nassau, once the bustling, lawless capital of the pirate world. In the late 17th and early 18th centuries, the Bahamas, with its numerous hidden coves, shallow banks,

Obeah is more common in the Family Islands — the Out Islands — than in New Providence. Yet it remains one of the most misunderstood spiritual practices in the Bahamas. Walk into a Nassau souvenir shop and you might find Obeah reduced to a trinket — a small bottle of coloured oil, a candle, a figurine. Head to settlements on Long Island, Cat Island, or Acklins, and the same word refers to something far more complex: a living spiritual system rooted in African traditions, passed down through generations, and used by community members for healing, protection, and guidance. That

Of the roughly four hundred vendors at the Nassau Straw Market, only a fraction sell genuine hand-woven goods — the rest carry machine-made imports from overseas. The Nassau Straw Market sits steps from the cruise terminal, a dense grid of stalls where Bahamians have sold handmade goods for generations. It is also, by most accounts, a place where the majority of what is on offer was never made in the Bahamas at all. That tension — between a living craft tradition and the pressures of mass cruise tourism — is the real story of the market. It matters to

Loyalist refugees fleeing the newly formed United States after the Revolutionary War dramatically reshaped the Bahamas, leaving an indelible mark on its culture, demographics, and socio-political landscape. Their arrival wasn’t just a historical event; it was a cultural earthquake that continues to resonate in the Bahamian identity today. The Loyalist Exodus: Seeds of Change Following the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783), Loyalists – those who remained loyal to the British Crown – found themselves unwelcome in the newly independent United States. Facing persecution, confiscation of property, and social ostracism, many sought refuge in other British territories. The Bahamas, a sparsely