NEARLY a month after Hurricane Melissa – one of the strongest Atlantic storms ever recorded – swept across Jamaica, killing at least 45 people, injuring hundreds, and leaving a path of destruction, aid groups still face significant logistical challenges to reach those in need, while communities struggle to recover.
In mid-November, when The New Humanitarian visited some of the hardest-hit parishes, large parts of the southwest of the island remained in darkness, and roads were still blocked. Communication was intermittent in at least 30 communities that were still only accessible by air or by sea, and hopes for a full return to normality were fading amid mud, debris, and growing despair.
In rural towns and villages, the landscape was one of utter devastation: lush green corridors turned to a disaster zone of uprooted trees, scorched vegetation, and homes torn apart by the storm’s 300-kilometre-per-hour winds and the widespread flooding and landslides that followed.
According to the Caribbean Disaster Emergency Management Agency (CDEMA), Melissa left some 30,000 households displaced and affected 182 communities, even as the damage to critical infrastructure – including hospitals and health centres – has limited the ability to provide assistance and delayed the restoration of basic services.
“We’re rationing water; we only have one jug left, and we don’t know how to get more,” said Shernett Opal Brown, a mother of eight.*
Shernett used to live a few metres from Faith Emmanuel Apostolic Church, where she and a group of neighbours took refuge on the day of the storm. Most of them are now living in makeshift tents or with relatives whose houses were spared. The church, like many others, has become a community centre offering supplies donated by the locals and humanitarian agencies.
Two weeks after the storm, many families in the Saint Elizabeth, Westmoreland, and Manchester parishes said they had received little assistance and didn’t know how much longer they could manage on their own.
With government clean-up crews overwhelmed and supply chains stalled, community-led action had often become the first — and at times the only — effective form of assistance.
This photo feature delves into the quiet labour of the more isolated communities and the self-driven actions to rebuild.
“The needs will intensify”
Wenford Henry, country director for the Adventist Development and Relief Agency (ADRA) International in Jamaica, inspects homes and structures in Cuffies Pen.
“It’s as if a nuclear bomb went off,” he said. “All the buildings have lost their roofs. Some have collapsed. People’s lives have been completely turned upside down.”
The government estimated that in districts along the southwestern coast, between 80 and 90% of the roofs of homes and other buildings were ripped off by the hurricane. The lack of materials and immediate support is hindering reconstruction efforts in many rural communities.
According to the United Nations, the priorities of humanitarian response for Hurricane Melissa include providing access to clean water and sanitation, resuming primary healthcare and nutrition services, protecting minors, and addressing food and housing needs.
Confronted with these overwhelming needs, some aid workers worry the situation could become even more catastrophic in the weeks and months ahead.
“The current problem will increase when there is less assistance, as teams begin to withdraw from the country and when [vector-borne] diseases appear from stagnant water, for example,” said Alejandra López, a programme manager for ADRA. “The needs will intensify due to the destruction of the productive system,” she added, referring to food production.
Unfathomable losses
Shernett and two of her children stand in front of their house in Cuffies Pen, Saint Elizabeth parish, where the hurricane ripped off roofs and scattered debris across entire blocks. Despite the influx of international humanitarian aid, the scarcity of drinking water and food is pushing residents into increasingly precarious conditions.
Food systems have collapsed, agricultural losses are estimated at $192 million, and farmland remains flooded or buried under debris. The vast scale of the disaster is only now becoming clear: Economic losses have already surpassed $7.7 billion — approximately 35% of Jamaica’s national GDP — and new modelling suggests total losses may exceed $20 billion.
The World Food Programme (WFP) said it aims to assist 200,000 people through food assistance, cash transfers, logistics, and emergency telecommunications over three months – a crucial step as the nation transitions from an immediate humanitarian response to a longer-term recovery strategy. By mid-November, the organisation had delivered food kits to 24,500 people. However, it warned that of the $30 million in funding needed for their response, only $6.8 million had been secured so far.
“We need food and water”
Visibly shaken, Robert, a 63-year-old resident of Cuffies Pen who preferred not to give his last name, looks at what remains.
“We need food and water. Please bring food and water!” he insisted.
Many elderly people, especially those living alone, face increasing vulnerability due to prolonged power outages, reduced mobility, and a lack of basic supplies. Across the country, 54 healthcare facilities were severely damaged, critically affecting access to essential health services.
For many Jamaicans, Melissa’s destructive force is difficult to put into words — even in Patois, the English-based Creole with deep African influences that reflects the country’s history, resilience, and identity.
“We have never had such an experience in life. I don’t even know how to say it,” Louis William, a 58-year-old resident of the nearby community of Lacovia, told The New Humanitarian.
Local volunteers fill in the gaps
At a makeshift food distribution centre in Lacovia, Grace, a 20-year-old volunteer, prepares basic food rations for affected families.
Dahlia Salmon – Grace’s mother, who is running the centre – explained how, for many, these food rations are “the only stable source of food while power outages and business closures continue”.
Volunteers here work from dawn until late afternoon, depending on the amount of donations received. Residents of the hardest-hit parishes also hold community meals in the improvised centres and churches.
A roofless church
The main nave of the Presbyterian church in Lacovia remains open to the sky after the roof collapsed, rendering the pews, furniture, and religious archives unusable.
“Reconstruction could take months due to the lack of materials and funding,” said David “Tony” Reid, the church’s pastor.
Despite mourning the loss of one of its main spaces for gathering and social support, the religious community has found the strength to move forward with the clean-up. Services have resumed even amidst the devastation.
“People have mobilised to help”
The “bamboo tunnel”, a once-dense arch of interwoven bamboo that rose above the road linking Mandeville to Black River – a tourist attraction before Hurricane Melissa – has become a symbol of the region’s devastation.&
Residents who initially expected the government or international organisations to be the first to help have instead taken matters into their own hands, using machetes and chainsaws to clear paths and allow the limited aid arriving by air to pass through.
With response resources stretched to the limit, many communities are relying on self-organised efforts like this to reopen access routes.
“People have mobilised to help, thank God,” Shadeika Roberts, a volunteer from a Christian church in Mandeville, told The New Humanitarian. “The clean-up efforts are more important than people realise. [Communities] need water, food, assistance [to reach them].”
Desperation grows
A military vehicle patrols the damaged streets of Black River. As shortages persist and prices gouge on basic goods, desperation has grown. Some have resorted to looting, leading authorities to reinforce security.
Like other countries in the region, Jamaica is particularly vulnerable to natural disasters and has been recurrently hit by hurricanes. But never before did it suffer the direct impact of a maximum Category 5 storm. Melissa’s rapid intensification over the unusually warm waters of the Caribbean highlights a trend scientists have long warned about: Climate change is fuelling more powerful and destructive weather events.
Cycling their way forward
Children and adults walk and cycle along a damaged road in Cuffies Pen. With fuel scarce and public transportation disrupted, bicycles have become the primary means of transport for many families seeking access to markets or water sources.
The aftermath of the hurricane has been extremely disruptive for children, as schools have been damaged or turned into shelters. According to UNICEF, “nearly 477 000 children are experiencing significant disruptions to their schooling due to damaged or temporarily closed schools” across Jamaica, Cuba, and Haiti – the three countries most affected by Melissa.
“I don’t think there is a single person on this island who hasn’t been affected one way or another by Hurricane Melissa,” said Tori Corti, a resident and volunteer at the Cuffies Pen community centre.
*A previous version of this story wrongfully stated that Shernett Opal Brown is a mother of four.
The New Humanitarian used transportation provided by ADRA International. The author also contributed material to ADRA. Edited by Daniela Mohor.
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The New Humanitarian puts quality, independent journalism at the service of the millions of people affected by humanitarian crises around the world. Find out more at www.thenewhumanitarian.org.
