Oracabessa, St Mary Has Lost Its Pride — And We Helped It Happen

I read in the news today that the Oracabessa Branch Library has closed, and a 15-year-old student's question stayed with me: “What is a community without a library to help the kids with assignments and things to print?”

That question is bigger than the library. For me, it is about what has happened to Oracabessa itself.

I grew up in an Oracabessa where people were proud that their community stood out. We were still a poor, small town on Jamaica’s north coast, but we never thought of ourselves as insignificant. Oracabessa was happening.

We had three beaches. On Sundays, people traveled from as far away as Manchester and Clarendon for beach days. We had the banana port, once an important center of commerce and activity. We had schools, churches, businesses, a post office, a library, a market, and community spaces. This little town felt like it was moving forward.

Today, I look at Oracabessa and sometimes wonder what happened to us.

I Remember When the Library Finally Had a Home

My relationship with the Oracabessa Library goes back to childhood. I remember when the library operated at Rice Yard, a few steps away from the police station. I remember when it operated at Bottom Road, beside Miss Marie White’s home with a cherry tree in the yard. Those were rented locations.

Then, in 1978, something important happened. Oracabessa got its own library building. I was a boy, and I performed with a boys’ group at the opening ceremony.

My recollection from that time is that the building was gifted to house the library permanently. I have not yet located any documentary records establishing the terms under which the property was transferred, so I will not present that part of my childhood recollection as a documented legal fact.

What I do remember is what that building represented to us: permanence, progress, community. After years of operating from rented locations, our library finally had a home.

And then we allowed that home to deteriorate.

Residents interviewed by the Jamaica Gleaner say the original library became unusable in 2011 because of severe deterioration. The community then secured another leased location so library services could continue. What was essentially a temporary arrangement lasted approximately 15 years. That facility has now closed too. The Jamaica Library Service says the building needs extensive repairs, its tenancy expires August 31, and no suitable replacement facility has been secured yet.

^{Picture of the donated library. It’s been sitting there since 2011}

Think about that. The old, permanent, dilapidated building still sits there in Oracabessa.

A public institution loses its permanent home. It moves into temporary rented accommodation. Fifteen years pass. Then the temporary home disappears—and the institution still has nowhere permanent to go.

At what point does a temporary problem become evidence of something larger?

Then I Met the Man Who Said He Bought the Old Library

A few years ago, an encounter came rushing back to me when I heard about this latest closure.

I was at the airport. I had recently written an article about some of my work in Oracabessa when a gentleman and his wife approached me. They recognized me from the article and Facebook. I had never met them before.

He told me that he had purchased the old Oracabessa Library building. He explained that he and his wife were retired attorneys. He told me his vision was to use the property for a law-related training program and to help young people interested in the legal profession. We even discussed connecting that vision with Oracabessa High School.

I was delighted. Oracabessa is my heart. If an abandoned building could be transformed into something that trained young people in law and created another educational institution in the town, I wanted to see it happen.

He also told me that acquiring the building had not been easy. As he explained it to me, the property had government protections or restrictions, and it took effort to complete the necessary paperwork.

I cannot independently verify those details. I am simply recounting the conversation as I remember it.

But I asked him one question: Where is the library going to go?

He couldn’t answer.

And I didn’t blame him. If he legitimately purchased the property, finding a home for a government library was not his responsibility.

I took his number. I tried to contact him several times afterward. I reached out through Facebook as well. I never heard back. Eventually, I put the encounter in the back of my mind as one more promising conversation that might never materialize.

I still hope I was wrong.

If that gentleman and his wife are still pursuing their vision of creating a place in Oracabessa where young people can be introduced to law, and young lawyers can be developed, I sincerely hope they succeed.

But the question I asked him remains: Where does the library go?

And Then There Was the Post Office

The library is not an isolated case.

In October 2020, Jamaica Post closed the Oracabessa Post Office on Main Street because of what the agency officially described as the “dilapidated state of the building.” Postal operations moved to Boscobel, with Port Maria offered as another option.

Picture of the dilapidated Oracabessa Post Office. Closed since 2020

Oracabessa lost another basic institution.

Eventually, postal service returned to the community, but concerns about the physical facility—a half-container building—did not disappear. The original building in my day was classy, with respectable workers who are still talked about today.

In March 2025, an Oracabessa resident wrote in the Jamaica Observer, describing the replacement as the “world’s smallest post office.” More importantly, that writer described a wider pattern: garbage, deteriorating recreational spaces, the library still operating from rented accommodation, an empty clinic annex falling into disrepair, and an underused market.

That article was written before this latest library closure.

So perhaps the question isn’t: What happened to the library?

Perhaps the question is: What is happening to Oracabessa?

We Have Allowed the Town to Deteriorate Piece by Piece

From one of St Mary’s largest post offices (above) to half a container —especially striking beside the clinic next door.

I have written repeatedly about the garbage receptacle sitting right in the middle of the Oracabessa business center. It overflows.

I have stood there and watched what happens. Once the receptacle is full, someone places another bag on top. Then somebody else does the same. Eventually, the garbage spills onto the ground, and more garbage gets placed around it and into the street.

Right in the center of our town.

When the bin in front of the supermarket, not the side, trash continues to pour in

I have called friends and asked them to speak with the Member of Parliament. The garbage gets removed. A few days later, the same thing happens again.

The problem is not merely that the garbage needs to be collected more frequently. Why is that receptacle situated there in the first place? Who looks at the center of a community and says: “This is unacceptable. We can design this better.”

Apparently, not enough of us.

And this is where I have to say something that may make some people uncomfortable.

I Blame the Political Leadership — But I Also Blame Us

Yes, political leadership has failed Oracabessa.

When public buildings deteriorate, community institutions disappear, garbage repeatedly overwhelms the town center, and temporary solutions become semi-permanent arrangements, leadership must answer questions.

But I cannot put all the blame on politicians.

I blame the people of Oracabessa too.

Too many of us have allowed political loyalty to become more important than loyalty to our community. We complain when something collapses. We complain when something closes. We complain when another service disappears. Then election time comes, and too many people return to their political corners.

The red corner. The green corner.

And Oracabessa remains in the middle.

That is not community development.

If the person representing my community is from the political party I support and that representative is failing the community, my loyalty must be to Oracabessa first. And if the representative is from the party I oppose but is genuinely improving my community, I should be mature enough to acknowledge it.

Community development cannot work if we defend every failure because our side is responsible and attack every success because their side accomplished it.

I Am Watching Something Similar Elsewhere

I live in the Diaspora now, and I watch political behavior outside Jamaica too, including what happens in the United States around elections.

The question is remarkably similar: When people enter the voting booth, what are they voting for—results or loyalty?

I am not telling anyone which party to support. I am saying something much simpler: Make politicians earn your vote.

If your community is deteriorating around you, political loyalty shouldn't stop you from demanding better. That principle should apply whether the color is green, orange, red, blue, or anything else.

I Get the Messages Every Time Something Falls Apart

Over the years, I have spent considerable time creating and maintaining a social-media space around the community where I grew up. So whenever something happens in Oracabessa, my cell phone starts going off.

WhatsApp. Messenger. Emails. Texts.

Leo, look at this. Leo, did you see what happened? Leo, write something about this.

And I understand why people contact me. I love Oracabessa. I will always advocate for it.

But people who live there must understand something: I live in the Diaspora. Those of us outside can only do so much.

We can write. We can advocate. We can raise money. We can call attention to problems. We can build partnerships. We can support schools and community organizations.

But we cannot vote for you. We cannot attend every community meeting for you. We cannot hold your councilor accountable for you. We cannot hold your Member of Parliament accountable for you. We cannot decide what kind of town you want Oracabessa to become.

You have to do that.

This Library Should Be a Turning Point

If it’s not, then you need nobody to be sorry for you, because you don’t need a helping hand. You need mental help.

The Gleaner reports that before the latest closure, despite deteriorating conditions, about 25 to 30 students and five adults still used the library daily. The branch provided computers, printers, Internet access, books, and study space. The Jamaica Library Service acknowledges the inconvenience and says it is looking for another suitable location.

I hope they find one quickly.

But I don’t want another temporary answer that lasts another 15 years.

I want somebody to ask: What is the permanent plan for the Oracabessa Library?

And then ask the larger questions.

What is the plan for the post office? What is the plan for the town center? What is the plan for garbage management? What is the plan for our recreational spaces? What is the plan for our public buildings? What is the plan for the beaches and other community assets? What is the plan for Oracabessa High School and the young people growing up around it? What is the economic-development plan for the town?

What is the plan for Oracabessa?

Because fixing these things one at a time, only after they become newspaper stories, is not development.

That is crisis management.

Oracabessa Can Be Proud Again

I refuse to believe that the Oracabessa I remember exists only in memory.

The ingredients are still there. The history is there. The people are there. The location is there. The schools are there. The international recognition associated with the area is there. The proximity to an international airport creates possibilities that the Oracabessa of my childhood could scarcely have imagined.

What seems to be missing is a shared community vision—and the political will to carry it out.

So when the next election comes, regardless of which party you traditionally support, I hope the people of Oracabessa ask something before casting their ballots:

What has my community received in return for my loyalty?

Look around before answering.

Look at the old library. Look at the post office. Look at the garbage. Look at the public spaces. Look at what has disappeared. Look at what has deteriorated.

Then look at what Oracabessa could become.

People will continue doing what they can from outside. Others will too. But ultimately, the future of Oracabessa belongs to the people who live there.

Demand a plan. Demand accountability. Demand representatives who care enough about the community to fight for it.

And when they don’t deliver, be prepared to make a different choice.

Because no political party should ever be more important than the place you call home. That is, if you want progress.

Oracabessa has lost some of its pride.

It doesn’t have to lose its future.

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