Black River: From heritage to hope

In the debris-strewn streets of Black River, St Elizabeth, there is the weight of history in every shattered beam and collapsed roof. Once Jamaica’s third-largest port in the 18th century, Black River was a place of commerce, innovation, and ambition.

In 1773, the town replaced Lacovia as the capital of its parish and blossomed into a thriving seaport, bustling with the export of logwood, rum, pimento, and other goods. Its waterfront was lined with wooden warehouses and Georgian-style façades, a commercial district that bore witness to wealth and movement, to the ebb and flow of cargo and human lives.

Moreover, Black River was a town of firsts. In 1893, a house on High Street, later known as Waterloo Guest House, became the first private residence in Jamaica to be electrified, thanks to the enterprising legacy of the Leyden brothers. The same town welcomed the first motorcar on the island by 1903 and early telephone service not long after.

But today, after Hurricane Melissa, much of that heritage lies in ruin. The once-charming colonial-era district is largely unrecognisable: warehouses, Georgian façades, and historic houses reduced to debris. Among the standout losses is Waterloo itself, the stately 1819 mansion originally built for the Shakespeare family (distant relatives of the playwright), later converted into that pioneering guest house.

GIVE THANKS

It is a moment that calls for reflection, memory, and gratitude. Give thanks. For this day, family and friends, health and strength, for just being alive and being able to breathe today, for all things big and small, for the joy of this day, and for waking up, let us give thanks now.

Because even amid loss, the bones of Black River remain. The river still winds through the parish, dark and ancient, carrying the memory of centuries. The history of logwood, sugar, rum, export of pain and profit; of slavery, of commerce is woven into every stone, every timber, every street name.

And while many of its colonial-era buildings may have fallen, the spirit they embodied, resilience, innovation, community, lives on in those who call Black River home. In the quiet grief and determination of residents seeking to rebuild, in the children whose laughter returns to the empty lanes, in the hands offering help, clearing rubble, and sharing hope.

As we reflect on what was lost, we also give thanks for memory, for community, for life. Black River’s past is sacred, its present fragile, its future unwritten. But in gratitude, we find the strength to begin again.

Contributed by Dr Lorenzo Gordon, a diabetologist, internal medicine consultant, biochemist, and a history and heritage enthusiast. Send feedback to inspiring876@gmail.com