Reflections on the Palm Tree

The Caribbean Front of WYCJ stands with Jamaica, and we hope you will too.

Find donation avenues at this link.

RON BEGGS

From prehistoric moments to the 21st century, Hurricanes have continued to endanger the lives of  many individuals, and the balance of our natural environment. Hurricane Beryl, an unforgettable moment, has created a mixed feeling of fear, and anxiety, among many Caribbean countries. Caribbean countries are continuously reminded of the catastrophic damages caused by Hurricane Ivan (2004), and Katrina (2005) throughout the Caribbean with unpredictable wind power. This serves as a reminder  that we are exposed to threats of natural disasters, and  the importance of being hurricane prepared, at all times. Hurricanes are not only natural disasters that can cause harm, it can also be classified as a reminder to help us to social responsibilities and social obligations.

Every hurricane began with a moment of silence, heat waves, and the sound of  trees cracking from a distance, the snapping of electrical wires, and howling of the innocent animals from a far distance. This is a signal that air is growing heavy, signaling that the waves of  hurricanes are approaching. Natural disasters such as hurricanes  are far beyond the extent of wind or water, but are warnings given to us countries to fight to protect our environment, as it is our moral responsibility. Homes are destroyed, economies are crippled, and lives are lost.

The Earth is described as a gigantic system, and I have come to realise that everything is linked and interconnected just as a living organism. Everything has a niche and a purpose; surprisingly, hurricanes are not exempt. 

And despite this appreciation, it cannot be overlooked that hurricanes are evolving stronger than before, not only in strength, but in the number of occurrences. Only by implementing preventative strategies to mitigate, learn and adapt, and acquiring access to  adequate resources can Caribbean countries reach a limit beyond preparedness, and embrace the environment with renewed respect!

Climate change is throwing everything out of whack, and this message is clear: Warming oceans provide an unlimited heat budget which supercharge hurricanes. 

Jamaica forestry, coastline and rivers are also vulnerable to the hurricane, flooding towns are not new. As Caribbean countries, we can volunteer by helping families, rebuilding their home, restoring emergency shelters, and repairing infrastructure. Together we are stronger and more resilient than before as Caribbean countries because rivers build new parts.

Despite the destruction, relief  brings hope to our brothers and sisters in Jamaica, as we continue to keep everyone in prayers.

KARIEL STUART

As I watch Hurricane Melissa batter Jamaica, Haiti, The Dominican Republic, Cuba, The Bahamas, The Turks and Caicos, Bermuda…  my heart goes out to every one who is living through it.

I write as someone who has faced the wrath of multiple hurricanes, but one far more devastating than the rest. In 2019, Hurricane Dorian tore through the northern islands of The Bahamas and Florida at over 180 mph. My childhood home on Grand Bahama Island was swallowed by a twenty-foot storm surge, and if they hadn’t evacuated when they did, they almost wouldn’t have survived. When the roof tore off and walls collapsed, we watched the sky claim our home. I know what it feels like to lose everything in an instant,  especially the bone-deep fear that comes with it. The confusion, the grief.

Yet I also know this. Even after the darkest gale, dawn can still come. If you are reading this, you have survived so far. You are still here to feel the morning sun. And you may not see it yet, but your story is now woven into the tapestry of storms that we, as island people, have always overcome.

On Oct. 27, 2025, Hurricane Melissa made landfall in Jamaica with 185-mph winds.

The fiercest storm in 174 years there. Prime Minister Holness admitted it plainly. “There is no infrastructure in the region that can withstand a Category 5”. 

In other words, this storm will break what is not built to bend. I read those words and remembered my own storm. When Dorian struck, a storm surge rolled through streets 20 feet deep. Houses in our neighborhoods were flattened as if made of paper. My people clung to their roofs overnight, praying to live until morning.

If your town is being swept by water and wind right now, I know what it feels like. How it sounds to hear the hurricane ripping through the trees. What it’s like to sit in the dark as you hear sharp noises and wonder what they could be.

But remember this. You are not alone. All across our region, families huddle together, checking on neighbors, sending help, praying together. You have people who love you. Who stand with you, even from afar.

We are all Islanders now, together under the sky’s fury.

Bend, but Do Not Break.

The answer is in the palm trees. Palm trees are everywhere in our islands. They’re elegant. They’re tall. 

But when storms come, they do something remarkable. 

They bend.

Palm trees can bend quite a lot, even to the point of being horizontal to the ground. But they don’t break.

After the storm is over, the palm stands again, often even stronger than before.

Think about that. Scientists have found that after surviving a hurricane, a palm’s wood becomes denser. Its trunk is literally harder, more resilient.

Amid the rage of the wind, imagine yourself as that palm. You may wonder if you can ever rise again. But give it time. When the gales die down, you will find yourself beginning to stand upright. Every day that you hold on is a day closer to sunrise. 

So too with our hearts, hardship can forge strength within us that we never knew we had.

Not to mention, storms have a way of revealing weak foundations.

This trial is revealing the resilience of our region. Remember the love of community when it has passed.

Remember that you are the survivor of the storm.

A prayer of Hope for those religious:

God of compassion, you are our refuge and our strength,

our sure rock in the midst of any storm,

the light which pierces every darkness,

and an anchor of hope for all who contend with despair

Father, shelter every distressed person tonight. The youth, the mothers, the fathers, the elders, the disabled, the leaders… every life that this storm has affected. Keep them safe beneath your watchful gaze. Give us courage in our fear and a promise that this too shall pass. Let our hearts find comfort knowing that we will stand again. 

Amen. It shall be so.

CHRISTIANNE

Melissa, the third strongest hurricane ever recorded in the Atlantic, and the strongest one ever at the time of landfall, is currently overhead in Jamaica. My social media feed is full of horrific videos of gale-force winds and collapsed buildings and at the time of writing, the storm hasn’t even fully passed yet. 

Whenever a hurricane passes, we know to expect the ubiquitous imagery: collapsed houses, forests felled like dominos, boats washed onshore. People walking the rubble of what used to be their home or their place of business. But we also see, for some reason, palm trees standing tall and proud, albeit with some crazy positioning of their palm fronds (which is to be expected in 150 km/h winds). 

Palm trees are not trees in the traditional sense, being more closely related to grass, corn and rice than they are to other trees. Instead of having a woody core in their trunk, palm trees are composed of a spongy material, with scattered cells instead of arranged in neat formations. They flex with the wind, easily taking the brunt of force. This is why we see them in post-disaster pictures when nothing else remains, a true symbol of resilience, perfectly adapted for unpleasant conditions. 

This is a tenacity we see in Caribbean people. With joy, laughter, and a good dose of complaining (and perhaps some rum) to temper the frustration, neighbours work together to unearth their homes, share resources, and return to a semblance of normality within days or weeks. In times like these, it is easy to feel downtrodden. Yet, there is a spark of defiance that lives in all Caribbean people. We see it emerge in times of crisis and disaster, the unwillingness to give up and give in, borne from centuries of exploitation and resistance. I have no doubt that Jamaicans will meet the challenge of recovery from Hurricane Melissa with grace, strength, and plenty of memes.

On a country level, however, one sees a vastly different picture. Hurricane losses can surpass billions of USD, amounting to eye-watering proportions of the annual GDP, not to mention the tragic loss of life that simply cannot equate to a monetary value, as well as the various non-economic losses and damages that we only begin to appreciate in their absence.

A quote from a colleague in Jamaica via WhatsApp (used with permission): “I give thanks for grace and mercies. Sadly, we are still under the intense wind and rain. Many have lost their roofs, homes, and possessions temporarily due to floods. It's a crisis here, and it's not over.”

She is correct that this is a crisis, and we cannot keep testing the strength of people who repeatedly face climate impacts over and over and who do not have the resources to prepare effectively. While it is true that Jamaicans will rise above this crisis, it is also correct that they are suffering and will suffer for many months or years into the future; indeed, the crisis is not over. Jamaica produced 0.02% of global greenhouse gas emissions in 2021 and ranked the 146th largest producer of emissions globally in the same year. I would hardly consider them a top contributor of GHGs, yet they lie in one of the world’s most climate-vulnerable regions, ever in the path of dozens of hurricanes, with an abundance of risk factors stemming from poverty and a history of colonial exploitation. This is the core of climate justice: those who have contributed the least will suffer the most. It is a cruel twist of irony. 

Hurricane Melissa itself is also a result of climate change. We know the link between warmer waters and stronger hurricanes all too well. Quoted directly from Climate Central: “Hurricane Melissa reached Category 4 strength with peak winds of 225 km/h between October 25 and 26 after undergoing extreme rapid intensification — an increase of about 112 km/h in just 24 hours. The storm underwent rapid strengthening as it sluggishly crawled over exceptionally warm ocean waters 1.4°C warmer than average and up to 700 times more likely due to human-caused climate change. The storm rapidly intensified a second time, reaching Category 5 strength on October 27 and continuing to strengthen to winds over 289 km/h just before landfall along Jamaica’s southwest coast. At this time, the storm was moving across waters 1.2°C warmer than average — conditions made up to 900 times more likely by human-caused climate change.”

And quoted from BBC: “The storm's central air pressure dropped to 892 millibars as of the National Hurricane Center's advisory on Tuesday morning local time, below Hurricane Katrina's 902 mb. The lower the pressure, the more violent the winds - making this one of the most powerful systems ever to form in the Atlantic.” The Atlantic basin will always have hurricanes, but their strength and severity has been supercharged in recent years. Melissa in particular will not die without a vicious fight.  

This is why it is so critically important to begin implementing the ICJ Advisory Opinion on climate change, for which Jamaica actually presented oral arguments in December 2024.

So that they, and many other vulnerable nations, can access funding and justice for the repeated instances of climate events that have been spurred by carbon emissions, or for risk factors exacerbated by colonialism, which we are seeing on display right now. We need justice and we need it now.

Caribbean people are resilient like the palm tree, but only because we have to be. Our very survival depends on it. We will weather this storm together with love and unity. And lots of memes.