How a Former Caribbean Sugar Plantation Transformed Into a Batik Craft House
Much of St. Kitts a raw diamond, uncut by human hands. The small island is one-half of St. Kitts and Nevis, a two-island federation in the eastern Caribbean. The Indigenous Kalinago people of the Lesser Antilles named the island Liamuiga, which roughly translates to “fertile isle,” and the name remains true today. Mount Liamuiga and the surrounding tropical vegetation dominate much of the landscape; even on the lowlands where villages concentrate near the shore, the depth of the forest that stretches mountainward remains a constant visual reminder of the island’s fertility.In Basseterre, the port capital, boats and catamarans unload visitors with salt in their hair, but it doesn’t take much driving out to lose sight of them—about ten minutes of driving west brings you to wild, grassy hills, low-slung electrical poles, and pastel-hued residential homes. Beyond these settlements, a dense tropical forest stretches as far as the eye can see. Between the lush greenery, patches of railroads remain.“They were used to transport sugarcane to Basseterre,” my driver told me. “Until about twenty years ago.”The winding coastal road leads further to Old Road Town, where the first English colonists took root on the island. Here, I seem to be able to spot more “chattel houses”—small, movable wooden homes that were designed for the mobile needs of freed plantation workers. Laundry dries on clotheslines; storefronts, often fashioned with brick and stones, have hand-painted signs that advertise Carib beer. It is here that Romney Manor—acquired and renamed in the mid-18th century by Baron Romney of Britain—transitioned from its centuries-old sugarcane production to a craft house producing vibrant, colorful Caribbean batiks.The History of Romney ManorDuring the age of European expansion and conquest, major colonial powers like England, Spain, France, and the Netherlands reaped extravagant, empire-building wealth from Caribbean sugar. St. Kitts—with its rich, sandy loam soil ideally suited for sugarcane production—attracted the Spanish, the British, and the French, who waged violent campaigns against the Indigenous Kalinago people and each other for control. (The name Basseterre, which is conspicuously French, is a remnant of the era when the French controlled the western and eastern ends of St. Kitts.) The British sought to develop the island as a plantation colony, bringing enslaved Africans to clear land and work—under brutal and devastating conditions—what eventually became an incredibly profitable sugar enterprise. The St. Kitts estate of Baron Romney and his son, Earl of Romney, profited from this sugar boon.After over a century of inter-European conflict, the British claimed St. Kitts and Nevis under its total control in 1783, until the islands achieved their independence in 1983. However, sugar’s profitability faced a gradual decline during that time, resulting in a consistent loss for many plantations during much of the 20th century. So, in December 2004, the young government of St. Kitts and Nevis deemed sugar production as no longer economically viable, and in July 2005, St. Kitts officially ended the commercial production of sugar.At the end of the 19th century, the 4th Earl of Romney sold his estate on St. Kitts to another British family. The ownership changed once more in the early 20th century, then again in the 1970s, when the current proprietor, Maurice Widdowson, came into the picture. Today, Romney Manor’s sunlit grounds are bustling with activity: it is home to Caribelle Batik, a business that has produced and sold batiks—fabrics decorated with wax-resist dyeing methods—for almost 50 years. A 400-year-old saman tree oversees the grounds atop a dense layer of low-growing palms; the grass lawn, centered by a reflective circular pond, is flanked by a long clothesline, where sheets of fabric dyed in scintillating colors dry in the sun.A batik demonstration. Yoojin ShinFrom Sugar to BatikMaurice Widdowson is a sprightly man with whitewashed hair. Clad in long trousers and a button-up shirt, he strolls the property almost every morning, overseeing deliveries and engaging in small talk; on occasion, he offers to take photographs of visitors, who likely assume him to be one of them. His gregariousness and recognizability among the locals on the estate grounds—he seemed to know almost every deliveryman and driver, including my own—attested to his prominent presence on the island.Originally hailing from Britain, Maurice became familiar with batiks in Zambia, where he discovered imported batik prints from a Dutch company. (The oldest batik-making practice traces its origins to the Indonesian island of Java, from where it spread to larger swaths of Asia and Africa. The Dutch colonized Indonesia from 1816 to 1941.) Then, living in St. Lucia, he saw the cruise industry developing and sought to find a business niche.“They had access to quite a good range of high-end duty-free stuff, like jewelry, perfumery, pottery,” he told me. “So, the top end was covered. On the lower end—the caps, the t-shirts, the souvenir items—that was well-covered. But there was nothing really in the middle that was a quality product that was locally made.” So, he decided to produce and sell batiks in the Caribbean.At Caribelle Batik, batik-making is still done in the traditional way. First, boiling wax is poured or stamped onto the fabric in a desired pattern. As the wax cools, it seals a protective layer on the fabric through which the dye can’t penetrate. Afterward, the fabric is soaked in dye and then boiled off—in what Maurice calls the boiling outhouse—to remove the wax. The process is repeated until the fabric is dyed in the desired design. In contrast to the traditional Indonesian batiks that tend to have more muted earth tones and intricate, detailed patterns, the batiks produced at the manor are simpler in design and much more colorful—tie-dye techniques, which are often used in tandem, help produce the multicolored effect—and patterned with recognizable tropical icons like palms, hibiscus flowers, and turtles.When Maurice leased—then purchased—Romney Manor in the 1970s, he inherited a residence overrun by vegetation, nestled in a village where the industry still centered around fishing, farming, and sugarcane production. On Wingfield Road, which makes its way up from the coast to the manor, the primary industry was gravel-making. “Trucks would come along and drop huge stones outside of the houses,” Maurice said. “And a lady would sit with a coal chisel and a hammer and make gravel out of it.”It was in this particular environment that Maurice recruited his initial round of employees. He believed that the attraction to the business was natural, given that Caribelle Batik was able to offer the locals something different than agricultural work.“It was all word of mouth,” he said. “I didn’t have to put out any adverts.” Mary Pemberton, who has been working at Caribelle Batik for almost 50 years, was a gravel maker in the area before she became aware of the business. She was initially hired to help make the manor grounds clean and hospitable, functioning as a quasi-gardener, but later expressed an interest in dyeing batiks. So, she was trained as one and has been working in the role ever since.Dyeing the batik.Yoojin ShinAn Island TransitioningFor Kittitians, transitioning from primary production to a service-oriented business hasn’t been easy. The island moved from one of the least service-oriented industries to the most, and such dramatic transitions required intensive training.But several decades in, the staff at Caribelle Batik exude down-to-earth service and charm, and business is thriving. The shop is now an integral stop for cruise ship visitors, who can be spotted sporting a colorful batik sarong or cover-up near shore in Basseterre. The service isn’t overwhelming; for many, this is a good thing–there is an impression of being helped by a friend or neighbor without the overbearing zeal. Though not every employee has stayed as long as Mary, Caribelle Batik has employed generations of residents in and around Old Road—many of them have stayed with the business for over twenty years—and continues to do so. Beyond the economic mobility that a service-oriented industry has provided, there seems to be a shared pride in safeguarding the business that has become its own landmark.The tourism industry now constitutes about 40% of the nation’s GDP; many hotels and resorts, though fewer and further between than other Caribbean islands have installed their footing. (The Belle Mont Sanctuary Resort, perched on the northern hills of the island, is the perfect example of a unique, luxury resort that serves as a milestone in tourism development.) Boating and snorkeling—the quintessential Caribbean pleasures—are as good as anywhere else; the men who staff the boat converse and laugh with familial ease, blow on conches, and pour delicious mixes of Ting (a grapefruit soda) with rum.But the glossy nature of a tourism-driven economy is not present in large swaths of St. Kitts—at least not yet. You can still easily tuck into a roadside kitchen built under a mango tree for a hearty lunch plate and strike up a conversation with a solo diner; when the sun sets, you can go out dancing at a bar frequented by locals. And if you find yourself at Caribelle Batik, you can still sit at the bar overlooking the greenery and run into Maurice—who will tell you story after story of his adventures, if you so wish.
Welcome to Billionaire Club Co LLC, your gateway to a brand-new social media experience! Sign up today and dive into over 10,000 fresh daily articles and videos curated just for your enjoyment. Enjoy the ad free experience, unlimited content interactions, and get that coveted blue check verification—all for just $1 a month!
Account Frozen
Your account is frozen. You can still view content but cannot interact with it.
Please go to your settings to update your account status.
Open Profile Settings