By Dean Jones – Founder of Jamaica Homes
The Island That Shapes Us
There are places that shape who we are. They mark us, mould us, and never let us go. Jamaica is that place for me. It is not just my birthplace—it is my compass, my rhythm, my measure of what it means to live fully.
To walk barefoot as a child through the bush of St. Catherine was not simply play. It was freedom in its rawest form. A freedom to breathe, to discover, to belong. I can still recall the air rushing past as I clung to the back of my grandfather’s pickup, the taste of fried fish and festival at Hellshire, the sound of waves breaking against tyres that floated us in the shallows.
Childhood was not measured by screens or schedules. It was penwhilies caught in jars beside my bed. It was lizards tied to twigs, racing like small dragons. It was bag juice—the sweet nectar of a hot afternoon—purchased from vendors who were part of the landscape of our lives.
Those days live in me still. They are my architecture.
The Weight of History
To understand Jamaica, one must look at the roots. Roots that reach deep and spread wide. A land shaped by struggle, by Maroon defiance, by the sheer endurance of enslaved ancestors who refused to be broken. A culture that learned to weave hardship into rhythm and celebration.
I remember going to St. Mary country, eating sugar cane fresh from the stalk, bananas that carried the soil’s warmth. Traveling to Maroon Town, surrounded by aunties and uncles whose faces blended into one familiar mirror of family. Those journeys were not just visits; they were lessons in heritage.
Even as children, we felt the tension of contradictions. Gunshots during elections. Warnings about which colours to wear. Rolling calf stories whispered by elders to keep us indoors. Yet against that backdrop, there was joy—sound systems filling the night, Anancy stories shaping our imaginations, church gatherings binding community together.
Jamaica has always been a paradox. Fiercely proud, endlessly resilient, and yet battling systems that too often restrain rather than release its potential.
The Pulse of Today
Stand in Jamaica today and you will feel both the promise and the pressure.
This small island has produced music that reshaped the world, athletes who run faster than reason, a culture that is global in reach and influence. We are, by every measure, greater than our size. Jamaica is bigger than the people in it. It is carried in the hearts of millions who have left but never really gone.
And yet—beneath that brilliance—there are systems that remain stubbornly slow, mired in old ways of thinking. Nepotism lingers. Infrastructure groans under the weight of need. The diaspora, filled with talent and capital, longs to return and contribute but finds the path home tangled.
We are in a digital age. Technology is not tomorrow—it is today. The world moves at a speed that demands we adapt, or risk being left behind. Jamaica cannot wait. It must reawaken, reconnect, and strategise with clarity.
The question is not can we? It is will we?
Looking Forward: A Jamaica Reimagined
The future belongs to those who dare to design it.
I believe Jamaica’s tomorrow must be built on three foundations:
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Reconnection: Welcoming the diaspora back not just emotionally, but structurally. Creating systems that make returning, investing, and building seamless.
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Strategy: Policies that look beyond election cycles, that are comprehensive, sustainable, and designed with courage.
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Vision: A national imagination as bold as our culture—one that embraces renewable energy, digital infrastructure, sustainable agriculture, and communities built for resilience.
For me, the vision is personal. I want my children to taste that same sugar cane, to know what it feels like to float freely at Hellshire, to chase fireflies in the dark. But more than nostalgia, I want them to inherit an island thriving, not just surviving.
What Makes a Jamaican?
Nationality is often defined by documents, but identity is lived. In the United States, citizenship earned through work and commitment often seals belonging. In Jamaica, belonging is something different. It is rhythm in your step, resilience in your bones, and an accent that lingers no matter how far you travel.
Being Jamaican is not bound by geography. You may leave, but the island never leaves you. That is why our diaspora, in London, New York, Toronto, or Miami, still insists: I am Jamaican. It is a birthright carried not just in passports, but in hearts.
Lessons in Childhood
Looking back, I see how every moment of childhood was instruction:
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Killing twenty chickens at ten years old was not cruelty—it was survival, teaching me work, responsibility, and resilience.
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Community was not an option—it was life. Neighbours were family. Church was anchor.
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Creativity was not manufactured—it was instinct. We built worlds out of what we had.
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Freedom was not abstract—it was walking barefoot, knowing the earth beneath our feet.
These lessons are the scaffolding of who I am today. They underpin how I see Jamaica, and how I work within it.
Real Estate: Designing Jamaica’s Future
And so we arrive at where my past meets my present: real estate.
To me, real estate is not simply about structures. It is about identity, legacy, and vision. The homes we build, the communities we design, they are not just shelter. They are statements about who we are and who we want to become.
In Kingston, Montego Bay, and beyond, I see both challenge and possibility. Demand is rising. Diaspora Jamaicans want to invest. Young professionals want their own spaces. Families want security. The question is not whether we build—it is how.
- Affordability: Housing that does not price out the very people who make Jamaica, Jamaica.
- Diaspora Opportunity: Clear pathways for Jamaicans abroad to invest, return, and participate.
- Sustainability: Homes that respect the land, harness renewable energy, and anticipate climate change.
- Community: Developments that are not just collections of buildings, but living, breathing neighbourhoods.
Every project is a chance to shape the island we want to leave behind. Every home is more than walls—it is a future.
Final Reflection
Jamaica is past, present, and future. It is barefoot freedom and digital ambition. It is folklore whispered in the night and strategies written for tomorrow.
It is me as a child, bottle of fireflies beside my bed. It is me today, building homes with vision for a better island.
Jamaica is a story still being written. And through real estate, through community, through the dreams we dare to build, I am determined to write my part—brick by brick, home by home, dream by dream.