The axe forgets, but the tree remembers. — African proverb

In the wake of Hurricane Melissa, Jamaica has be en battered by more than rain and wind. We’ve been swept up in a storm of speculation, where conspiracy theories have dominated the conversation and blurred the lines between fact and fiction.

Across social media, radio talk shows, and even church circles, people have drawn curious connections, linking Melissa’s devastation to Vision 2030, to the prime minister’s July 30, 2025 speech about St Elizabeth becoming the island’s next major city, and even to the eerie absence of lightning and thunder as Hurricane Melissa descended on the island.

Some claim that the storm’s unpredictable turns and slow pace were deliberate, while others insist that the presence of foreign warships in the Caribbean is proof of human manipulation. These theories, while far-fetched, are revealing: They expose a more profound national anxiety; one that’s less about meteorology and more about mental health.

As the proverb reminds us: “The axe forgets, but the tree remembers.” Those who felt the wind’s force and the wrath of water remember every moment of fear and uncertainty, long after others move on.

SEARCHING FOR CONTROL AMID CHAOS

Disasters have a way of shaking the ground beneath our minds as much as under our feet. When faced with destruction and loss, human instinct is to search for meaning. We try to make sense of the senseless.

In a country where distrust in Government runs deep and politics is deeply rooted in tribalism, where misinformation spreads faster than official statements, and where people often feel excluded from decision-making, conspiracy theories become a form of comfort. It explains, however illogically, when reality feels unbearable.

So, when the prime minister once said St Elizabeth would be the next city and the storm later tore through the parish, the connection felt almost “too convenient” to dismiss. In truth, it wasn’t fate or politics, it was trauma speaking.

DANGEROUS COMFORT AND COST OF CONSPIRACY

Conspiracies serve as a coping mechanism. They give people a sense of power when everything else feels powerless. But that illusion comes at a cost — one we continue to underestimate.

Each time misinformation spreads unchecked it erodes public trust in our institutions, our scientists, our media, and even our faith in one another. It weakens disaster response, divides communities, and fuels a culture of fear that outlives the storm itself.

The prevalence of conspiracy in Jamaica, from elections to energy bills, from hurricanes to health, points to a larger social illness: A collective fatigue and mistrust born out of decades of disappointment. When people no longer believe in the systems meant to protect them they start creating their own explanations, however wild.

The cost is both financial and emotional. It slows recovery efforts, diverts focus from urgent needs like food and shelter, and feeds anxiety that manifests in sleepless nights, substance abuse, and violence. For a nation already stretched thin, this emotional instability becomes a silent national crisis.

THE DEMANDS WE MUST MAKE

After Melissa, we must demand more not just from our Government, but from ourselves, our neighbours, and our communities.

We must demand of ourselves the discipline to fact-check before forwarding a message, to pause before posting, and to think critically before blaming. We must demand empathy and restraint so that we can comfort, not confuse, those who are already hurting.

We must demand that our communities be centres of truth, where schools, churches, and local leaders provide clear, compassionate guidance grounded in fact, not fear.

And we must demand transparency, proactive communication, and consistency from our Government, because silence in a crisis breeds speculation faster than any storm cloud.

MENTAL HEALTH IS PART OF THE RECOVERY PLAN

As the Government and private sector talk about rebuilding roads, schools, and farms, equal attention must be given to rebuilding minds.

The Ministry of Health and Wellness, in collaboration with the Ministry of Education and community organisations, should establish mobile counselling units and trauma-response teams across the most-affected parishes. Local churches and schools can serve as safe spaces for emotional support and education on mental well-being.

Mental health support should not be viewed as an act of charity but as a pillar of national resilience. True recovery demands that we repair the invisible damage — the anxiety, the grief, the distrust — not just the visible ruins.

THE CALL FOR CONNECTION

Hurricane Melissa reminded us of something profound: That Jamaica’s greatest weakness is not the weather; it’s our disconnection from one another. In an era when conspiracy theories overshadow the truth, we must reclaim the space for empathy, information, and community.

We’ve long dealt with mental health in silos, but the time has come to lean on each other. Healing must become a collective act; one rooted in trust, transparency, and compassion.

Because hurricanes like Melissa may come and go, the emotional aftershocks can linger for years if we don’t confront them. The real recovery, therefore, isn’t just about rebuilding homes; it’s about restoring hope, truth, and peace of mind.

Rickardo W Shuzzr

Rickardo W Shuzzr is a communications strategist focused on reggae, dancehall, and Caribbean culture. He is an adjunct professor at Suffolk County Community College in Long Island, New York, and serves in the New York National Guard. Send comments to the Jamaica Observer or media@shuzzr.com.