Rhonda L.C. Hull, Esq.
A life rooted in Abaco, Law, Family, Purpose, and God…
01 · Abaconian at Heart
Abaconian at Heart
There are places that become part of you long before you understand why.
My family's story in The Bahamas stretches back through generations to Eleuthera, where my mother was born in the little Settlement of Tarpum Bay. She was the third of eleven children and the last daughter born there before the family moved to Nassau.
Even before her father died, much of the responsibility for raising her younger siblings had fallen to her.
Years later, she married an American Missionary.
In 1967, my parents, Bob and Phyllis Cornea, arrived in Cherokee Sound as Missionaries, answering a call to serve the people of Abaco.
Getting there was an adventure in itself. Cherokee was accessible by skiff from Big Mangrove, at Mosquito Dock. My father had his one-stripe Sunday suit—one stripe because he was so skinny—my mother had her dresses, and practically everything they owned was packed into a barrel.
As they boarded the skiff, the barrel fell overboard. Among its contents was a large box of Tide detergent. As my mother later told the story, it became the world's first underwater washing machine.
They arrived with no running water, no shop, and no familiar friends waiting for them. They soon fell in love with the people of the Settlement, many of whom became lifelong friends.
Cherokee Sound
I was born in 1968, a long, reddish baby—just like Captain Archie, according to my mother.
My parents' lives revolved around their Missionary work and the church. Mine revolved around the people who filled it, the places I could explore, and the opportunities for mischief. Billy and Phillip were appointed my unofficial guards during church services, stationed at opposite ends of the pew to prevent me from escaping and running around.
Billy was William B. Sands, Jr., who would go on to become Executive Chairman and Director of Commonwealth Bank. When he was seventeen, my mother encouraged him to leave Cherokee, travel to Freeport, and begin a career in banking. She saw possibilities in people and was never afraid to give them a push.
I also remember Billy's sister, Laurel, whom we know as Lolli. Billy, Phillip, Lolli, Captain Archie, and our neighbours filled my earliest years. Afternoons were spent on the Long Dock, swimming, exploring, and making our own entertainment.
Sandy Point
Later came Sandy Point, where I remember bathing in a round tin tub with Fannie and Ezra's children. There were eleven of us, taking turns in the same water. By the time the tenth or eleventh child climbed in, it had certainly seen better days. You know the old saying, “Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater”? Well, I lived it.
One of my favourite places was Pressy's house, particularly when she was making bread. After kneading the dough, she would cover it and leave it to rise. That was my opportunity: I would slip my fingers underneath the covering and eat as much raw dough as I could manage. Eventually, Pressy imposed a strict two-bite limit. Otherwise, there might not have been enough bread left for anyone else.
We walked along little tracks from house to house, eating tallyberries and sage from the bushes. We pushed old wheel rims down dusty roads with bent wire hangers and cut open milk cartons to make bicycle fenders, trying to keep ourselves from getting covered in mud.
My Mother's Orange Bicycle
I can still picture my mother's big orange bicycle. She volunteered at the Settlement's telephone switchboard when there was just one telephone serving everyone. When a call came in, she would climb onto her bicycle, always in a dress—women didn't wear pants then—and pedal through the Settlement to find whoever was being called. She would bring them back and connect the call using the buttons, plugs, and wires.
My First Serious Injury
Not all my memories are quite so cheerful. I fell against a bureau in Naomi and J. Dean's home and cut a hole in the middle of my forehead. The local nurse, Shirley Saunders, stitched me up as best she could. I still carry the scar.
Travel in the Out Islands
I remember journeys aboard the Capt’n Dean mailboat and travelling to the United States with my family on the Deborah K, a freight boat considerably less expensive than flying.
When I attended school in Nassau, I'd fly home with Fred Gottlieb, a senior Attorney in Abaco, landing on dirt roads near Sandy Point. Getting home could be an adventure in itself.
I sometimes think my own instinct to build, nurture, and serve the community was inherited from them. It is difficult to separate who I am from the place that shaped me.
And although my own adventures have taken me far beyond these shores, Abaco has always drawn me back.
“Home is Abaco and God. Family. Friendships. Love. Heart to heart.”
02 · Journey
Journey
In 1985, I represented The Bahamas as Miss Commonwealth Bahamas and stood on the stage at the Miss World Pageant in London's Royal Albert Hall.
My education took me to Switzerland, Canada, Trinidad and Tobago, Sweden, and the United States. Wherever I went, one thing remained constant: I worked my way through every school, in every country. Along the way, I made lasting friendships and learned to find my feet among people whose lives were very different from mine.
In Canada, I attended the University of Western Ontario in London, Ontario. I worked at a coffee-and-doughnut shop, which meant getting up at four in the morning to prepare for students arriving for breakfast. In Geneva, Switzerland, I worked at the United Nations while continuing my education.
When my husband was studying medicine in Trinidad, I commuted between Trinidad and The Bahamas every two weeks, travelling with two young children and working to help support our family. Education happened alongside marriage, motherhood, and earning a living; there was rarely a convenient time for any of it.
I've always had a competitive streak. Field hockey, netball, and squash were among my great passions, and somewhere along the way I even managed to win the Conchman Triathlon in The Bahamas. I suppose I've always enjoyed a challenge, whether it involved a hockey stick, a bicycle, a pageant stage, or something considerably less sensible.
- Bahamas
- Switzerland
- Canada
- Trinidad & Tobago
- Sweden
- …
…And eventually, home to Abaco.
Abaco was where I established my practice and raised my family, bringing those years of study and travel into my working life.
03 · Law & HULLco
Law & HULLco
Not your ordinary attorney.
I was called to the Bar in Ontario, Canada, in 1996, completed my professional legal education at Hugh Wooding Law School in Trinidad and Tobago in 1997, and was admitted to the Bahamian Bar later that year.
When I arrived in Abaco to practise law, I joined Callendars & Co. Some of the clerks who were there then are still with me, 31 years later.
In 2002, I established L.C. HULL & Co. in Marsh Harbour.
Over the years, my work has spanned conveyancing, real estate, estate administration, corporate and commercial matters, and matrimonial law. Matrimonial cases have often meant flying between Abaco and Nassau in small aircraft for court appearances, representing clients away from home when their cases required it.
Practising in the Out Islands means knowing the people, properties, and relationships involved as well as the law. Some of my clients have lived in The Bahamas for generations; others are discovering the islands for the first time. Through our Amsterdam office, we also serve European and other international clients with interests in The Bahamas.
After Hurricane Dorian, we rebuilt the practice and rebranded as HULLco—the name under which we continue to serve clients today.
Passing It On
One of the most rewarding parts of my career has been watching younger people find their own paths in law.
One young Attorney I supported went on to appear before the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council in London, the highest Court of Appeal for The Bahamas. Another began as a Junior Attorney in a Law Firm and later went on to serve in the judiciary.
Another began as a secretary in a Law Firm before pursuing her legal education. She graduated at the very top of her class, having also welcomed a baby with her husband during her second year of studies. She was selected to represent her class at the presentation to the Bar.
Seeing what they have accomplished gives me enormous satisfaction.
04 · Dorian
Dorian
The storm that changed everything.
When Hurricane Dorian struck Abaco in September 2019, I rode out the storm in a bathtub with seven other people. Eight of us, crowded together, sheltering as the hurricane tore through everything around us.
My parents took refuge on top of a refrigerator unit as the floodwaters rose around them. My father, Bob, had lost his leg years earlier while serving with the volunteer fire department. His prosthetic leg was swept away by the water. He could not swim.
During the eye of the storm, my younger brother Troy made his way from his house to theirs to rescue them. His own home was devastated: the entire first floor was flooded and damaged, while upstairs it looked almost as though nothing had happened.
His properties and businesses—Wally's, Harbour View Marina, and Blue Wave Rentals—were also caught in the destruction. All faced the long process of rebuilding.
Then, just as Abaco was beginning to recover, COVID-19 arrived. Tourism stopped and travel was restricted, dealing another blow to an island already struggling to rebuild.
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Rhonda's law office, before the storm. -
Harbour Place, before the storm. -
Hurricane Dorian at peak intensity.Photo: NOAA / NASA Earth Observatory -
A marina after the storm.Photo: U.S. Coast Guard -
Harbour Place, after the storm. -
The office, after the storm. -
What was left of the reception desk. -
Surveying the damage. -
What the floodwaters left behind. -
A child's drawing, still hanging, amid the wreckage. -
Sorting through what could be saved. -
Laying out water-damaged files to dry. -
Harbour View Marina, rebuilt and busy again. -
The marina's patio, today. -
Inside the marina, rebuilt. -
Wally's, back open for business.
Dorian destroyed buildings and businesses, but it also revealed the extraordinary resilience of the people who call Abaco home.
05 · Beyond Law
Beyond Law
Builder. Dreamer. Creator. Writer. Educator. Traveller. Lover. Adventurer. Marathoner. Gardener. Pianist.
Mother of 4. Grandmother of 7 (so far).
Abaconian. Bahamian. Canadian. American.
I've never been particularly good at sitting still. Outside the office, that often means working on a house, planting something, or finding another project to get involved in.
HULLdev
Through HULLdev, I renovate, reuse, and repurpose properties, working with local materials to give existing places a new life. In Abaco, I want the landscape and the character of the islands to remain part of that experience.
I have a particular fondness for native fruit trees and a rather unreasonable obsession with coconut palms. If I spot a young coconut tree growing somewhere it shouldn't, there's a good chance I'll dig it up and find it a new home. There's an equally good chance I'll persuade someone else to help, regardless of what either of us happens to be wearing.
Selected Places & Projects
Big House
Big House is the home I designed and helped build in Marsh Harbour, where I raised my children. Over the years, it has hosted children's Christmas parties, Miss Bahamas contestant fashion shows, and more celebrations than I can easily count. Whatever else goes on there, it is still the house where my family grew up.
Mexico House
I purchased and redesigned Mexico House in San Miguel de Allende to give my children the chance to be immersed in a Spanish-language environment, something Marsh Harbour couldn't offer them. Behind its bougainvillea-draped walls and brick archways, it became a second home.
ZigZag Condos
ZigZag Condos is a waterfront condominium development I built, right at the water's edge. There is more of its story to tell.
Green Bananas
Green Bananas is a rental home and getaway I designed on one of the islands across from Marsh Harbour. Reachable only by boat, it has its own private beach and dock, a short ride from town.
Witch Point and Camp Abaco
My connection to Witch Point began long before I bought it. Its proximity to Camp Abaco was a large part of why I wanted the property.
Three miles from Marsh Harbour Airport, the 55-acre property has a largely untouched landscape, shallow turquoise water, and an extraordinary shoreline. I've long imagined a small bonefishing lodge there, offering simple luxury and days spent wading and casting in the clear shallows, with care taken to preserve the landscape.
The sale of Witch Point is open for discussion. Whatever happens next, I hope its natural character will be respected.
Proposed bonefishing lodge — concept.
My parents, known across Abaco and to generations of campers as Sister Phyllis and Brother Bob, ran Camp Abaco for roughly fifty years. It was a Christian sleepaway camp, and I spent my childhood summers there alongside campers from across Abaco and beyond. I remember the cabins and the wooden walkways through the marshes.
At the end of each camp week came Kangaroo Court, a good-natured trial for the week's small offences, with plenty of laughter and very little real punishment. On other nights, we set off on wild-boar hikes through the bush after dark, flashlights bobbing, thrilled and terrified in equal measure. To this day, no one really knows whether encountering a wild boar was a possibility.
Mornings brought my mother and her bullhorn. She would walk the cabins singing “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin'” from Oklahoma! at full volume, whether or not any of us agreed with her assessment of the hour. Parents who had attended as children later sent their own children, with another generation getting to know that wake-up call.
Orange House
Orange House sits along a canal leading into a private, gated community, moments from open water, with views towards Hope Town and its lighthouse. Dolphins, turtles, and pufferfish sometimes appear beside the private dock. Just beyond the canal entrance, a reef offers colourful fish and easy snorkelling. After sunset, the distant light of the Hope Town lighthouse is still in view.
Royal House
Royal House in Marsh Harbour was once home to John Bull, the longstanding Bahamian jewellery and luxury retailer. After Hurricane Dorian, I restored the building, bringing back its character while making room for new uses. Today, it houses HULLco and the Abaco Art Gallery & Boutique.
Genuine antique cannons stand guard outside. Originally belonging to an uncle, they are a reminder that collecting beautiful and unusual objects runs in the family.
Gallery & Boutique
Abaco Art Gallery & Boutique
After Dorian, the immediate work was practical: repairing roofs, making homes habitable, and reopening businesses. As artists and craftspeople began creating again, there were few places to show what they made. That was the beginning of the Abaco Art Gallery & Boutique.
The gallery gives Bahamian artists, makers, and designers a place to display and sell paintings, jewellery, straw work, clothing, books, and other pieces made in the islands. Visitors can meet their work and take something made in The Bahamas home with them.
I make things, too. One of my particular pleasures is turning oyster shells found here in Abaco into jewellery. Each piece takes weeks of patience, imagination, and trial and error. No two are quite alike, and some find their way into the gallery alongside the work of other local makers.
The gallery is entirely nonprofit. HULLco provides the space and support, and our clerks help staff it and assist the artists. The proceeds go towards purchasing school uniforms for disadvantaged children in Abaco.
A Life Beyond One Island
Over the years, I've climbed mountains, crossed oceans, and explored places I once could hardly have imagined visiting. Some adventures were carefully planned; others were decidedly less so. The friendships have lasted beyond the journeys.
My family now stretches across generations and continents, with cousins and extended family scattered around the world. However busy life becomes, those connections matter to me.
I've raised three sons—James, Jeffrey, and Jacob—and my daughter, Erinlee, whom I adopted from an orphanage in Freeport. Motherhood has been one of my great adventures, although certainly not one that came with a reliable instruction manual.
Now there are seven grandchildren, including Donnie, whom I'm helping to raise. I've never thought of family as something defined entirely by blood or convention. Young people who aren't technically mine somehow become part of the family anyway.
In Abaco, children I knew have grown into adults, neighbours have become lifelong friends, and people I've known for decades still find their way into my life. Sometimes I'm their Attorney, sometimes a mentor or friend, and sometimes simply someone who can lend a hand.
Always Up for a Challenge
My first Miami Marathon. My second child was still a baby, so he came along for the adventure and stayed with family while I ran.
Apparently, once wasn't enough. Back in Miami for my second and third marathons, in 2008 and 2010.
It seems the appetite for endurance events runs in the family. Jeffrey, after completing his first Ironman.
A World to Explore
Cycling 260 kilometres around Lake Constance—the Bodensee—with my sons. This was before you could easily rent an e-bike, too. The next family cycling holiday may involve four wheels, a roof and an engine.
Returning to Switzerland, where I once studied, this time to hike in the Alps. Some places have a way of drawing you back.
The day after hiking Acatenango Volcano in Guatemala, 2024. Still smiling—which I consider an achievement in itself.
Island Life, Naturally
Teaching the next generation when and how to harvest young coconut palms. With a pickup truck handy, you can seize the opportunity whenever it arises—even in your Sunday best.
Coconut palms may be my passion, but growing a watermelon this enormous felt like a major life achievement.
A proper Bahamian ought to know how to catch a crab… …boil it in the pot, and crack the claws with a spoon.
Teaching nieces, nephews and grandchildren to fish. Some lessons are best learned at the water's edge.
Collecting shells and sea glass with family—treasures from the shoreline that sometimes find a second life as jewellery.
Family, Across Generations
Celebrating my mother's 90th birthday, surrounded by family, friends and members of the community she has served for so many years.
Family has always meant a great many people in my life. Here we are as babies, a collection of cousins squeezed onto one sofa. And decades later, still finding reasons to get together—this time for my mother's 90th birthday.
Seven grandchildren, and counting. Life is certainly never dull.
A first meeting between cousins. Another generation of family stories begins.
Celebrating my grandson's graduation from primary school with his mother, Erinlee. One of those milestones worth making a fuss about.
Out on the water with family. No particular destination required.
Giving Back and Coming Home
Presenting the annual Citizenship Award at James A. Pinder Primary School in Sandy Point, my hometown. It is always a privilege to celebrate young people who are making a difference in their community.
Decades after my parents first arrived in Abaco, we gathered as a family at Cherokee Sound's Long Dock. My father had preached in Cherokee Sound countless times over the years, but this occasion was special: for the first time, my son and cousins were there to hear him.
The same place where my parents' Abaco story began, now shared with another generation.
Abaco gave me plenty of reasons to leave, and better reasons to stay.
Still Writing the Story
I'm still here.
Still building, planting, and digging up coconut trees that really ought to be left alone.
Still looking after children and grandchildren, and finding myself involved in the lives of young people who aren't technically mine but somehow become part of the family anyway.
Still learning, still advising clients, and still sharing what I know with pupils and clerks finding their way into the profession.
Still exploring, still finding adventures, and still occasionally wondering what I've got myself into.
I have no particular intention of slowing down.
There are still places I want to see, things I want to create, people I want to help, and adventures I haven't even thought of yet.
And wherever those adventures take me, I know where I'll want to return.