Why Everyone Has a Point — and Why That’s the Point**
By Dean Jones, Founder – Jamaica Homes
Hurricane Melissa did more than rip roofs from houses; it exposed the quiet truths we’ve avoided for decades — truths about land, affordability, vulnerability, and how our society decides who gets to feel safe in their own home. Almost 190,000 homes were affected, but for many families across Westmoreland and Hanover, the storm didn’t “create” vulnerability — it simply revealed it.
Now, as tarpaulins flap where roofs once stood and families sleep in cars or damp rooms, Jamaica finds itself standing at a fork in the road. The question is no longer if we should rebuild, but how we choose to rebuild — and whether we allow this moment to change us.
What I want to suggest — boldly, respectfully, and from experience — is this:
Everybody is right.
Yes, the critics.
Yes, the government.
Yes, the engineers.
Yes, the people who live in the houses.
And if we listen carefully, without defensiveness, we might notice that these “competing” voices are actually harmonising around a single truth:
“A house is not a material; it is a decision. And decisions determine destiny.”
Why Both Sides Are Right
The debate over container homes, prefabricated units, block-and-steel, and emergency accommodations has become heated. But heat doesn’t only forge steel; it can also illuminate what matters.
Many advocacy groups warn about rushing into temporary structures that may deteriorate or become semi-permanent ghettos. They are right. We have seen this story before — Louisiana after Katrina, parts of the Eastern Caribbean after Ivan, whole regions in Southeast Asia after monsoon cycles. Poorly planned temporary housing becomes permanent suffering.
On the other side, the government recognises the urgency. People cannot sleep under tarpaulin for months waiting on perfect solutions. Action must be taken at speed. They are right too.
Speed is safety.
Quality is dignity.
Balance is wisdom.
And wisdom is what Jamaica needs most at this very moment.
Rethinking the Narrative: Containers Are Not the Enemy — Bad Planning Is
Let me say something many people hesitate to admit publicly:
A shipping container, by itself, is neither good nor bad. It is just steel.
What you do with it determines everything.
Before you turn a container into a home, it is simply a container — a box waiting for imagination.
You can cut windows incorrectly, and it leaks.
You can insulate it poorly, and it sweats.
You can anchor it wrong, and the wind lifts it.
You can clad it cheaply, and the sun roasts it.
But with proper design, experienced engineers, correct anchoring, adequate ventilation, structural framing, moisture barriers, and the right cladding — the “container home” stops being a container and becomes what every decent home becomes:
A carefully engineered structure designed to keep a family safe.
Across the world, the range of container-based architecture stretches from unsafe, rushed temporary units to award-winning luxury homes in Europe, the US, and Asia.
The difference?
Design. Execution. Standards.
So I will not write them off. Jamaica cannot afford to dismiss any viable, safe, scalable option — not with thousands of families displaced and an urgent need to build resilience across every parish.
As I often tell teams:
“Don’t blame the material. Blame the mindset.”
What We Must Avoid: The Louisiana Trap
We do need warnings, because history teaches us what hope alone will never teach:
Temporary housing, when late and poorly planned, becomes permanent misery.
Louisiana tried container-type units and fast-deployed trailers after Hurricane Katrina. They arrived months too late. They needed concrete pads. They moulded. They leaked. Some released toxic fumes. Many became social hotspots for crime. They stayed far longer than intended.
That is not a container problem.
That was a planning, climate, maintenance, and execution problem.
If Jamaica chooses to use alternative housing, then Jamaica must also choose to:
- test units thoroughly
- consult engineers who specialise in wind loads and moisture control
- understand our tropical environment
- avoid manufacturers whose brochures look better than their buildings
- put families, not headlines, at the centre of decision-making
Or, as my grandmother used to warn me:
“Fisherman sell fish — not truth.”
Buy with sense, not excitement.
The Real Vulnerability: Land Tenure, Not Timber
Long before Melissa, thousands of Jamaicans lived in board houses not because they preferred them, but because they were the only affordable option on family land, leased land, or captured land.
A carpenter in Westmoreland will sell a 12×24 ft board house for J$470,000. A two-bedroom for about J$1 million.
A basic block-and-steel starter home? J$3 million, minimum.
When you're earning J$15,000–$30,000 per week, the maths makes the decision for you.
That is why vulnerability keeps coming back after every hurricane.
Not because Jamaicans don’t want strong homes, but because:
- titles are hard to get,
- land is inherited in complicated ways,
- affordability pushes people toward board structures,
- and support systems don’t meet families where they actually live.
Until we address that, every “solution” is temporary.
“You can’t build resilience on land you don’t feel secure on.”
A Smarter Path: Permanent Solutions at the Speed of Emergency
Here is where both sides can meet — and where Jamaica can win.
1. We must move people quickly into something safe.
Not months later.
Not when donors arrive.
Not when long procurement cycles finish.
Speed matters.
Families who stay in tarpaulin for too long rebuild with whatever they can find: zinc, scraps, timber — the materials of future disasters.
2. But what we move them into must be engineered, not improvised.
This is where standards, testing, anchoring, and climate expertise matter.
A good temporary home is better than a bad permanent home — and vice versa.
3. Meanwhile, we accelerate permanent solutions — especially small masonry starter homes.
For under J$1.9 million, Jamaica can provide a 400 sq ft block-and-steel smart-building kit:
- 1,200 blocks
- 5 tons steel
- 200 bags cement
- plywood
- 50 yards sand and gravel
With drawings from UTech, guidance from HEART, and financing from NHT, families can self-build safely and affordably.
That is not theory.
It is practice.
It can be done.
Prefabrication, Engineered Timber, and Modernisation
Jamaica’s contractors could produce 80+ prefab units per day with the right strategy. Engineered timber, concrete shells, hybrid systems, and cube units are all viable.
One size never fits all — especially in housing.
If Melissa taught us anything, it’s this:
“Diversity builds resilience.
Not just in people, but in construction.”
Block-and-steel is proven.
Prefab is fast.
Engineered timber is sustainable.
Containers can be functional — when treated with respect.
Jamaica does not need to pick one.
Jamaica needs to pick sense.
Where Jamaica Shined: The Schemes That Survived
Let’s give credit where credit is due.
During Hurricane Melissa:
- private developers,
- public agencies, and
- engineers who follow standards
proved that Jamaica can absolutely build homes capable of withstanding Category 4 and even Category 5 winds.
Strong timber framing, proper fastening, good anchoring — they saved thousands of roofs.
We also saw the quiet hero of the storm:
concrete slab roofs.
Did some leak? Of course.
But they held. They protected. They sheltered neighbours whose roofs blew away.
This is important:
Jamaica already knows how to build resilient homes.
We just need to scale what works.
A Lesson From Bustamante: We’ve Done This Before
After Hurricane Charlie in 1951, Bustamante didn’t hold debates that lasted months. He didn’t rely on temporary fixes. He didn’t overthink the obvious.
He launched a national rebuilding programme and shifted Jamaica toward block-and-steel construction — a decision that shaped 75% of today’s housing stock.
History is not just a memory.
It is a manual.
“The future is never new; it is always a remix of what worked.”
This is Jamaica’s moment to remix resilience for a new generation.
What Jamaica Must Do Now
Here is the honest truth, said with love for the island I serve:
1. Move quickly — but not blindly.
Speed without standards builds regret.
Standards without speed builds suffering.
We need both.
2. Treat temporary housing as a bridge — not a destination.
Anything used temporarily must be designed for quick removal, quick replacement, or quick upgrading.
3. Fix land tenure while we rebuild.
Because a strong house on insecure land is still a fragile life.
4. Empower Jamaicans to self-build safely.
Starter kits, prefab partnerships, training, and micro-financing can change everything.
5. Create a national housing resilience strategy.
Not just for Melissa, but for the storms ahead.
Why Imagination Matters Most
Engineers talk about PSI loads, wind uplift, moisture barriers, and structural anchoring. And all of that matters.
But after 20+ years in this field, I have learned something deeper:
“Housing is not engineering.
Housing is imagination applied to reality.”
Give a Jamaican a plan, proper materials, and a fair chance — and you will see possibility rise from the ground.
Give a government the right guidance — and it can transform recovery into rebirth.
Give communities a voice — and they will shape solutions that last.
Everyone Is Right — Because Everyone Wants the Same Thing
At the end of the day, advocacy groups, engineers, developers, and government leaders are not arguing about houses. They are arguing about how best to protect Jamaican lives.
And that means something powerful:
We’re on the same side.
Instead of battling perspectives, we should merge them:
- the government’s urgency,
- the associations’ caution,
- the engineers’ data,
- the people’s lived reality.
If we do that — really do it — Jamaica could rebuild in a way that becomes a global model for climate resilience.
Not just weatherproof houses.
Weatherproof futures.
And that is something worth fighting for.
Final Thought
Hurricane Melissa exposed weaknesses, yes.
But it also revealed our strength:
our courage, our skill, our knowledge, and our relentless Jamaican imagination.
We don’t need to rebuild what was.
We have the chance to build what should have been all along.
“In every storm, Jamaica loses roofs.
But Jamaica has never lost its vision.”
Let’s rebuild with wisdom.
Let’s rebuild with speed.
Let’s rebuild with the boldness of a nation that knows exactly who it is.
Because everybody has a point — and Jamaica needs all of them.
Disclaimer:
The views and perspectives expressed in this article are intended for informational and thought-leadership purposes only. They do not constitute engineering, legal, financial or professional construction advice. Readers should consult qualified experts, government agencies, and certified professionals before making decisions related to housing design, land tenure, structural safety, or disaster recovery. While every effort has been made to ensure accuracy, the author accepts no liability for actions taken based on the ideas or interpretations presented.