09/12/2025
Here is a quick report on my trip to Jamaica from November 22 to December 1.
Many, many thanks to everyone who contributed in all kinds of ways to helping me to make the trip. Whether you made donations to the gofundme fundraiser, donated items through amazon, dropped off items in the donation boxes at UIC, zelle’d me, offered in-kind support (a special shout-out to Nate Brier and his instamatic camera!), all of it was immensely important.
I raised a total of $5,723.13, which was spent on:
Supplies ($4299.33):
Lighting (solar lanterns; 25 LuminAID lanterns/chargers), power banks, generators, toiletries, zinc for house covering, stove, tarps, Starlink mini-satellite, inverter, books, clothing, water
Art activity for children on Thursday, Nov. 27: food, drinks, games and care packages
Cash grants ($1,500):
Seven families received from JMD$10,000 to JMD $20,000, (approximately USD$75 - $150) to cover purchase of water, zinc, food items.
I was not able to bring all donated items with me (Delta was not at all accommodating) so I will be shipping the other items in the coming weeks.
I spent the week talking to folks, cleaning and throwing away wet books and ruined equipment, repairing a roof, securing a space for the art making workshop that I planned for the kids, and doing the workshop (another post on the workshop later).
Suffice it to say, the experience of being in St. James in this post-hurricane moment for the week requires an essay. So, just a few things I noticed in the community of Granville, St. James:
Nature: When I landed on Nov. 22, there was a greenish glow across the landscape as many of the trees started budding again. I was reminded of springtime, and held onto that for the time I was there - thoughts of renewal, rebirth, a chance to start over - even as I barely recognized most of the place. Nature’s markers that I had used to place myself were now gone. I had to adjust and figure out the place without them. Closer to the areas where people live, the color is blue. Tarp blue.
Privacy: For many, many people, there is none. Certainly not until the trees and bushes grow back. But on another level, everything and everyone is now exposed - the deep structures that have forced some to live precariously while convincing others that they were protected by class, racial and geographical privilege, but also the everyday things, like no curtains or separate bedrooms because crammed into a space that was not built for a family of six.
Deep sadness and frustration: lots of tears (none of it mine), feeling like they have been abandoned by nearly everyone, weary of food packages, want building materials, want support to start repairing their homes and start remaking lives again. Every chuckle seemed to come from the learned instinct to “tek bad tings mek laaf”.
Boredom: children out of school so not much to occupy them except chores and each other’s company. Adults who aren’t working don’t have much to do either; phone battery power is rationed so there is not much web surfing, and darkness descends by 5:30 pm or so. I wish I had brought books and even more games to distribute.
Schools: community school is partially reopened for grades 4-6 because these students were preparing for exams. This is a requirement coming from the ministry of education; some schools were not ready and some teachers resisted this move. All teachers are required to attend even if they are not teaching. That means finding clean and unwrinkled clothes to wear to work even if not actually teaching. Water from tanks at the school but no electricity. Rather out-of-touch dress code policies created by one institution (no electricity and water means no clean, pressed uniforms but somehow makes it possible for students to wear dress shirts and slacks?)
Safety: parents had to work much harder to keep their girls safe and close to them, especially since any little thing that broke the boredom would also pull the girls out of the house and yard and away from where adults could keep an eye on them.
Transportation: people I talked to complained of having to wait a long time, sometimes 1 to 2 hours sometimes to get a taxi to go downtown. Fewer taxis available; some vehicles got damaged in hurricane; drivers are working on their own homes, and some drivers don’t think it makes financial sense to do trips when traffic is so bad (like, unbelievably bad).
Garbage: Piles of garbage and debris from demolished houses accompanied by frustration and threats to start burning the piles; some burning actually started before the garbage trucks appeared on Thursday, Nov. 27.
Time: Countdowns peppered nearly every conversation: 28 days since the hurricane, 29 days since the hurricane, 30 days since the hurricane. The deep awareness of chronological time was unfamiliar but also telling: Jamaicans typically play fast and loose with measures of time. This hurricane had shifted something significant for folks.
Data: neither elected representatives nor community organizers had basic data that could help with distributing aid or assessing any kind of need. How many young people under 18 years old? How many elderly? Nobody seemed to know.
Uneven assistance, feeling disconnected, resentment: Repeated mention of the absence of government and elected representatives in informing folks about what was happening e.g. tentative schedule for return of water and electricity, access to resources to help them repair their homes, helping to direct NGOs into the community where the majority of people live. Organizations like Doctors without Borders stopped on the main road to distribute supplies, but people living up the hill and further inside the community often had no idea and did not receive anything in the way of support e.g. food, tarp, toiletries etc.
US and International NGOs: they seem to know how and can get to the most remote districts much faster than governmental bodies. The whole time, I kept thinking of Haiti in the 1990s. There’s a lot to that.
Water: scarce commodity; various ways of sourcing water - rivers that haven’t been active in the community in many years are flowing again; springs popping up as well (e.g. a spring emerged at the end of someone’s driveway in Pitfour; systems were immediately created to ensure that everyone could benefit, I imagine much to the chagrin of the homeowner); water for purchase from trucks, not all of which are certified to sell water. I wish I had brought more water purification tablets with me.
Food: By the time I got to Ja, folks were remarking that the caravans from Kingston had slowed down significantly. Nonetheless, care packages are expected if you show up; I didn’t understand the full extent and flavor of the expectation until after I had been there. Lessons learned.
Food again: World Central Kitchen emerges as the star of the show in Granville and other small semi-rural communities in the western part of Jamaica. But the stories told about the food distribution also tells you about the way that partisan behavior and sentiments shape what happens on the ground away from the organization’s eyes and reach, including who gets the contracts to distribute food; I heard from multiple sources that the community-level workers get paid US$200-$300 per day, but I haven’t verified that number with WCK.
Food again: It was nearly a week before I ate a hot meal. Folks can only cook or purchase enough to eat in one setting - no refrigeration, remember - so I stuck with the canned goods for as long as I could. I immediately understood why folks declared they never wanted to see rice or flour again, and so appreciated and looked forward to WCK meals.
Sound: a new soundscape - generators and hammering from sunup until sundown. Sound systems were quiet. Not even the cars seemed to be blaring loud music as before. A friend said the moment reminded her how it was during the pandemic.
What's next? Rebuilding the program. We lost several dozens of books, as well as supplies and equipment. It is now time to plan to build a space in the community. The school for the deaf where we held the summer program for many years was - is - seriously damaged. As community members told me directly, "full time now fi yuh fi have yuh owna space." I think it's time to listen.
