The Fan Riyaa: Maldives’ Forgotten Square Sail
Updated: 2 days ago
For centuries before canvas and lateen rigs became common, Maldivian dhonis were driven by a sail that grew from the same tree that built the boat. The Faan Riyaa (ފަން ރިޔާ), also written Fan Riyaa, was a square woven sail made from dried coconut-palm fronds or young screwpine leaves. In Dhivehi, riyaa means sail. These panels were used on working vessels until the mid-nineteenth century, after which sailcloth and triangular lateen sails gradually replaced them.
The coconut palm was the islands’ all-purpose material. Timber formed the hull, coir rope (roanu) sewed the planks together, thatch (fangi) roofed houses, and split leaflets became mats, baskets, and sails. A Fan Riyaa belonged to that same economy of scarcity and skill: locally grown, salt-resistant, and repairable on any island with a knife, a wooden bar, and time.
How it was made
Traditional diagrams of this setup are titled ފަން ރިޔާ and subtitled the parts used in making the sail.
At the top sat the ރިޔާ ހަރު, the wooden bar that acted as a warp beam. ހައި ކަށި , loops and ties secured the vertical palm-leaf strips to that bar. Along the sides, and marked the upper and mid-edge loops; ސައުކު ވަޅު named the small rings. ކައުރި were the rounded tension weights, often cowrie shells or stones, tied on both left and right so the warp stayed even. At the lower edge, more ހައި ކަށި and the ރިޔާ ދަށް the long hanging line — finished the panel and later became attachment points for a yard or sheets.
The weaver prepared fallen or cut fronds by soaking them in salt water, drying them, and splitting them into even strips.
The warp hung from the ރިޔާ ހަރު; the weft was interlaced by hand into a tight brown grid. Some sails carried geometric diamonds, crosses, and lines, related in spirit to thundu kunaa mat patterns; others were left as a plain working weave. Overlay coir ropes reinforced the face. Edge bindings stopped spray and wind from fraying the leaf. The finished sail had to be strong and yet able to slacken slightly in a gust ,the same logic as a coir-sewn hull that flexed on coral instead of splitting.
Life on the water
These square sails matched old dhoni construction. Planks of coconut wood were lashed with roanu through bored holes; iron nails were avoided. A woven leaf sail behaved in the same spirit: slightly porous, patchable with more leaf and rope, and grown from the grove beside the beach. François Pyrard de Laval, shipwrecked in the Maldives in the early seventeenth century, recorded islanders turning the coconut palm into almost every maritime need, including sails.
By the mid-1800s the change was under way. Imported cloth was more consistent, easier to cut into lateen shapes, and less labour-intensive once the weaving knowledge began to thin. The Fan Riyaa faded with other hand skills such as fine feyli cloth. Later heritage work paid more attention to thundu kunaa reed mats from Gaafu Dhaalu, especially Gadhdhoo, and to kasabu lace than to sails.
What remains
Today the Faan Riyaa survives in memory, in labelled Thaana diagrams, and in reconstructions that read those drawings back into a working panel. The names on the frame are practical, not poetic: ރިޔާ ހަރު for the bar, for the ties and hanging cords, ފޮތި and for the side loops, ސައުކު ވަޅު for the rings, ކައުރި for the weights, and ރިޔާ ދަށް for the lower line. The same ހައި ކަށި and ކައުރި appear on both sides because the setup had to stay symmetrical while the weft was worked across.
The sail was never romantic in its own time. It was a tool, grown from the beach and the grove, woven by people who already knew how to turn a palm into rope, roof, and boat. In a country of scattered islands and no metal industry, the Fan Riyaa was another proof that the coconut tree could carry you from one atoll to the next.
Source: Retired Major Ahmed Naeem
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