about how we treat Jamaica

This is a very difficult post to make.  My island, Jamaica, is one of the most beautiful places on Earth…from the gorgeous, magical seven mile stretch in Negril, to the hills of St. Andrew and Portland.  But let’s go back to Negril…

I have been going to Negril at least twice per year since the birth of Miss World. It remains my absolutely favourite place in the world.  I lie on the beach and people watch.  The water is always calm.  It’s blue and gorgeous.  It is shallow for yards out.  There is never ever any loud music to intrude on my thoughts.  All I need is my rum, a glass, and a bucket of ice.  Vendors go past offering everything from weed, to fruit, to juices, to pastry to music for sale.  But they are never pushy.  And it’s all part of the magic that is Negril.  And then in the late evening, it all comes together in a perfect finale: the Negril Sunset.  I dare you to find another to rival it.

We always, always, always stay at Negril Treehouse. yup, the same property where Stella got her groove back...or at least, where they filmed the pool scene in the movie of the same name. 

Yes, this is shameless plug for this facility, and no they aren’t paying me for it.  It’s owner managed and you feel Gail’s presence everywhere all the time.  Sure, it’s an older property, but the gardens are beautiful and authentically Jamaican, and the rooms are clean with all the basics: bathroom, hot water, beds, cable TV and AC.  And it is right on the 7 mile stretch.  An added bonus is the fact that included in the reasonable rates is a top notch full breakfast inclusive of Jamaican favourites, fresh fruit and awesome coffee all served by friendly, attentive staff.

Repeated stays over the years have afforded me the opportunity to observe the receding coast line.  Yes…once upon a time, there was sand between the beach bar and the water line.  Now the sea laps up quite aggressively against the bar.  

Sure it’s picturesque sitting in the bar sipping on your rum looking down into the gorgeous sea, knowing what it was before, and extrapolating forward, well, it’s just plain scary.

So where do we go from here?  Perhaps it’s time for me to get active in conservation efforts for what it’s worth.  That 7 mile stretch was given to Jamaica by God.  We didn’t have to create it, we didn’t have to buy it.  All we are asked to do is to take care of it: don’t dump raw sewerage in the seas, protect the reefs, don’t eat parrot fish (OMG!), don’t steal sand!  …and that’s another story altogether…the sand stealing, I mean.  We continue to abuse nature’s gifts to this island: tearing down forests for the rapidly growing charcoal trade (Haiti: here we come!), creating garbage dumps any and everywhere and clogging our gullies.

The same “doan cyah” mentality is evident in how we treat our heritage sites…Port Royal, Three Finger Jack monument in St Thomas, that Columbus site in St. Ann, Lovers Leap and Fort Charlotte to name a few are run down and unimpressive. 

Fort Charlotte in Lucea...a potential moneymaker in ruin! Fort Charlotte in Lucea

They represent potential money earners for the communities within which they exist and for Jamaica as a whole.  I’ve been on a quite a few glossily presented (pricey) tours overseas that lack half the authenticity and wow factor that our own history offers us.  To be fair though, I saw adverts last week for private persons to take over the management of specific heritage sites.  That’s a win-win approach. 

It makes me sad and scared at the same time.