Dear Editor,

The rain has largely stopped, but the ache and devastation remain.

In the aftermath of the worst national disaster of floods, landslides, and broken infrastructure experienced in recent history, a profound weariness threatens to settle over us — the small, resilient nation of Jamaica.

For those of us physically far from the affected streets, particularly in the island’s western parishes, there is a test: Do I belong to this group of people?

The answer is found in that sharp, unbidden twinge in your gut — the pain of a stranger’s loss and the sadness for a village you’ve never seen. The consistent throb in your heart and throat, redirecting your thoughts during the day to the suffering of others and the ringing question: How can I help? If you feel that pain, you have your answer. That feeling is the profound, spiritual confirmation of our shared peoplehood.

Recently, the world witnessed the intense, collective grief of the Jewish and Israeli communities globally grappling with the horrific terror attacks of October 7 and the subsequent, excruciating wait for the hostages to return (may they all come back home, living and deceased). As this community experienced being dismissed, ignored, or misunderstood by the global conversation, their grief was validated only by itself — a self-referential, communal wound. It was during that impossible time that the essayist Mijal Bitton captured the feeling: “That pain you feel is peoplehood.” It is the realisation that your fate is inextricably bound to the fate of your kinsmen, whether they are across the globe or across the parish line.

This is the lesson we must embrace today. If the western end of our island is hurting, we cannot allow ourselves to criticise from the sidelines; we must partner in the healing. Now is not the time to point fingers or assign blame to institutions; it is the time for profound, collective empathy. We must remember the ancient wisdom: “If the eye is hurting, does not the whole body feel it?”

We are one body, interconnected and imperfect. The suffering in just one community compromises the health of the entire nation. Let our collective grief and anxiety not paralyse us, but galvanise us into action.

Let us labour in faith and love, extending our resources, our time, and our hope to our brothers and sisters who need us most.

May we see only good in the days ahead as we weep and labour in faith in our God who has never left or forsaken us. Let the pain of this moment be the undeniable proof that we belong to one another.

Francesca Tavares

francescatavares@yahoo.com