An Open Letter from a Jamaican Pensioner
Dear Government of Jamaica,
I am an old woman now. My hands are not as strong as they used to be, my knees give me trouble, and some mornings it takes me a little longer just to get out of bed.
But my mind is still working, and there is something I have been wanting to say for a very long time.
I worked hard all my life.
I raised children, paid bills, bought groceries, helped relatives when they were struggling, and contributed to this country in whatever way I could. I never had plenty, but I always tried to make something out of the little I earned.
Now I am old, and sometimes I wonder what all that hard work was supposed to lead to.
Because retirement, Government, is not what I imagined.
I thought by this age I would have some peace. I thought I could sit on my verandah, enjoy the breeze, watch my grandchildren grow, and not have to worry too much about tomorrow.
Instead, I find myself counting money before I go to the supermarket.
Sometimes I stand in the shop looking at two things I need, knowing I can only afford one.
Do I buy the medication or the groceries? Do I pay the light bill now or wait another week? If something breaks in the house, where is the money supposed to come from?
And please don’t tell me to ask my children.
They have their own struggles. They have rent, mortgages, school fees, food bills, and children of their own to raise. Some are barely managing. I cannot keep putting my hand out to them when I know how hard life is.
I am grateful for whatever pension assistance I receive, but gratitude does not make the money stretch further.
Government, when you talk about the economy, you talk about growth, investment, new hotels, roads, and development. I understand that these things are important.
But what about the people who helped build the Jamaica you are developing?
What about the market vendor who sold goods for forty years? The domestic worker who cleaned other people’s houses? The farmer who worked from sunrise until sunset? The security guard who stood on his feet night after night?
What about those who worked honestly but never earned enough to put aside a proper retirement fund?
We were not lazy people.
Many of us simply never had enough money left over to save.
And now time has caught up with us.
You cannot tell an eighty-year-old woman to go back and start saving. You cannot tell a seventy-five-year-old man to find another job when his body has already given the best years of its strength.
I am not asking Government to make pensioners rich.
I am asking you to remember that we are human beings.
Please look seriously at what older Jamaicans need to survive. Look at the price of food, medication, electricity, transportation, and the everyday cost of keeping a roof over our heads.
Please make pension assistance reflect the real cost of living. Make it easier for elderly people to access the help available to them. And please start teaching younger workers about pensions before they reach our age and discover that they have very little to depend on.
Because I would not wish this kind of worry on my grandchildren.
There is something particularly painful about reaching old age and feeling as though you have become a burden.
I have lived long enough to see Jamaica change in ways I never imagined. I have seen good times, difficult times, hurricanes, hardship, and recovery. I have seen governments come and governments go.
But one thing I have learned is that a country should not be judged only by how much it builds.
It should also be judged by how it treats the people who can no longer build for themselves.
I do not know how many years I have left.
I am not frightened of growing old. That is a blessing many people never receive.
What frightens me is growing old without enough to live on.
So, Government, when you sit around your tables discussing the future of Jamaica, please remember the elderly woman sitting at her kitchen table counting the last few dollars in her purse.
Remember the old man deciding whether he can afford another month’s medication.
Remember those of us who worked, sacrificed, and did our best with what we had.
We are not asking for luxury.
We are asking for dignity.
And after a lifetime of working, surely that is not too much to ask.
Yours respectfully,
A Jamaican Pensioner
Who worked all her life and still worries about tomorrow.
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