Sara' Reynolds Green plucks yellow squash from twisting vines on the same land her enslaved ancestors picked cotton.
“They were forced to work it and they knew the value of it,” says Green.
Green’s great grandfather bought 20 acres on Saint Helena Island in 1865, four years after plantation owners fled union troops, essentially emancipating 10,000 West Africans on the sea islands near Beaufort, S.C. Many of them bought land here too.
“Whenever anyone walks onto the soil of Saint Helena, they feel something,” says Green.
On this quiet island of meandering dirt roads and exquisite waterways, the direct descendants of slaves known as Gullah Geechee have farmed and fished for nearly 200 years, preserving much of their African culture and traditions. They are self-reliant.
Roughly one million Gullah Geechee live along the southeast coast. But their populations are diminishing, as is their rural land.
When word spread on St. Helena seven months ago a developer had purchased 500 acres, islanders like Joe Freeman lined up outside the county administration building to sign petitions.
“Yes, I’m worried,” said Freeman. “Big time worried.”
The 86-year-old joined dozens of others trying to attend a Beaufort County committee meeting. They packed the hallways as they waited to be let in, and they prayed.
But council chambers quickly filled up and many were turned away. So, they watched from outside and held up signs against the windows that read, “No golf courses, no gated communities.”
Inside, a developer made his case. Elvio Tropeano, who moved to Saint Helena from New York, wants to build a golf course despite a unique zoning law the community enacted decades ago, banning them. The 35-year-old recently bought more than 500 acres of property known as Pine Island.
This is summer on Saint Helena this year; a continual simmering debate between natives whose livelihoods depend on property, and an outsider who now owns a large piece of land with two listings on the National Register of Historic Places for its archeology and architecture. National Park records show it was once the site of St. Helenaville, a village occupied by freedmen in 1863.
The islanders have made their concerns clear. Golf course chemicals could pollute their waterways while multi-million dollars homes would likely increase property taxes. They watched Gullah Geechee people disappear from nearby Hilton Head Island. A 2005 National Park Study found such development has historically displaced them.
But Tropeano says he’s been misrepresented, especially in the media. He insists his golf course would benefit the community. He explains while giving a tour of the pristine property with a breathtaking causeway.
“It’s got a lot of views that a lot of people haven’t been able to see for a really long time,” says Tropeano.
Privately owned for more than 100 years, Tropeano says his golf course would allow public access to the island. He says he plans to preserve as much as 80% of the property and his golf course would be designed to educate visitors and raise money for Gullah Geechee people.
Tropeano says he’s kept the community in mind by consistently asking this question.
“How do I create recognition and generate resources in a manner that does not displace people?”
Tropeano believes his property does not belong under the island’s zoning ordinance or Cultural Overlay Protection as it’s known. He wants it removed and says if it’s not, he’ll be forced to make good on his investment by building more than 160 luxury homes and 90 deep water docks.
Just the thought of that strikes fear in many islanders. But preservation and cultural heritage attorney Will Cook calls the threat disingenuous.
“There is no guarantee that he could max out the zoning envelope in the way that he is proposing to do,” says Cook.
Cook says multiple state and federal permits would be needed including approval from the Army Corps of Engineers. He and local conservationists would like to see the land preserved.
“There are state and federal entities that have long had their eyes on this property, " says Jessie White, theCoastal Conservation League's South Coast Office Director.
But Tropeano says he does not intend to sell.
Meantime, islanders wonder why it’s taken the county so long to uphold the zoning law. Council members just denied Tropeano’s exemption request late last month. Now he’s suing and appealing a decision that kept him from building three, six-hole golf courses instead.
“When someone comes here with their dreams, we already have our dreams. We’re living our dream," says Dr. Marie Gibbs. The island native works at Saint Helena's Penn Center, the first school for formerly enslaved West Africans in the south.
Gibbs says islanders don’t need a golf course or help raising money for Gullah Geechee people. They need the land the way it is, unspoiled and resilient.
“People don’t understand, land is me,” says Gibbs.
Through the land, she says, Gullah Geechee people thrived, despite slavery. They will fight to save every acre.
Jameah Moore, who helps pick squash at Green’s Marshview Community Organic Farm, puts it this way.
“Can we have something for ourselves? Or if you want to experience it, why can’t it still be authentic and have its integrity as it is?”
Moore’s great uncle was Captain Joseph “Crip” Legree, once the island’s longest living cast net maker. She’s getting ready to head off to grad school but says she wants to have Saint Helena Island to come home to.
