Hurricane Melissa upended the lives of hundreds of thousands of Jamaican children when it struck on October 28, 2025. Across the Caribbean, UNICEF warned that at least 1.6 million children were at risk from flooding, displacement and the collapse of essential services. In western Jamaica, families faced the full force of a Category 5 storm, the strongest the island has ever recorded. Once the storm subsided and we began field assessments, our purpose felt urgent and unmistakable. We needed to understand how children were coping in the hours and days after their world had shifted so suddenly.
What we encountered were communities surrounded by the ruins of homes, schools, clinics and roads, essential facilities that were woven into the fabric of their daily lives. Along the road to Black River, we met twelve-year-old Antwane from Rocky Hill, St. Elizabeth, who had spent his morning helping neighbours clear fallen trees and debris so the route could reopen, allowing essential help to get to his community and others that were deeply affected by the hurricane.
The storm also reshaped the landscape of education in the communities we visited. Many schools that once echoed with morning chatter stood silent, their roofs torn open and classrooms flooded. For thousands of children, learning was suddenly replaced with waiting for electricity to return, buildings to be deemed safe and for the situation to stabilise enough to get back to school.
Students who had been preparing for exams now faced uncertainty about how they would sit them, as textbooks and uniforms had been destroyed. It remains unclear whether there will be any leniency from the regional board regarding exam timelines. Those who relied on school for structure, meals, and emotional stability were left adrift. For children from food-insecure households, the loss of school meant the loss of a guaranteed meal. For others, it meant losing the one place where life still felt predictable. The disruption reached far beyond academics.
Teachers spoke of lost materials and disrupted plans, but also of their determination to rebuild routines as quickly as possible. The interruption to education was not only a setback in learning but a disruption to the safe spaces that sustain childhood. Yet even here, hope persisted. Communities and students rallied to clear debris from school grounds, driven by a collective determination to restore normalcy and get children back to school.
The storm also reshaped the landscape of health in the communities we visited. Many clinics and health centres had suffered damage, leaving families without reliable access to care at a time when they needed it most. Flooded roads and contaminated water heightened the risk of water-borne diseases, and in the weeks after the storm, Jamaica confirmed an outbreak of Leptospirosis linked to the flooding.
To help bridge the gap, field hospitals and mobile medical units were set up in some of the hardest-hit communities. These temporary facilities provided urgent care and critical supplies while local health centres worked to recover. For families who had lost both access and stability, these field hospitals became lifelines, offering reassurance in a moment when even basic health needs felt uncertain.
One of the most powerful moments of our visit to Savanna-La-Mar was meeting Jordan, a thirteen-year-old boy from Whitehouse, Westmoreland, living with type 1 diabetes. When the storm knocked out power and damaged roads, Jordan’s daily insulin routine was thrown into jeopardy. He told us how his family had resorted to storing life-saving medication in an ice-filled cooler, hoping the ice might hold long enough to keep the insulin viable.
After we published Jordan’s story, help arrived quickly. Within days, the Salazar family and their friends, parents of children also living with type 1 diabetes, mobilized to donate a generator and a proper refrigeration solution so his insulin could be kept safe. That moment became a powerful example of how visibility can turn vulnerability into solidarity and how a child’s story can rally a community to act.
Another vital part of our work took place in the shelters that had opened their doors to families displaced by the storm. UNICEF delivered supplies such as water, hygiene kits and learning materials, while also assessing the needs of parents and children who had been forced to leave their homes with little time to prepare.
It was disheartening to walk through spaces not meant for long-term living and see families trying to create a sense of normalcy on crowded floors. Yet amid the exhaustion and uncertainty, there was a kind of quiet strength. Children found each other quickly, forming small circles of play and laughter that cut through the weight of the moment. Even in adversity, they created pockets of joy, reminding us that resilience often shows itself first in the ways children hold on to each other when the world feels unsteady.
Our work with Water Mission became a crucial part of restoring dignity and safety to affected communities. With water treatment systems installed and community water stations set up across the hardest-hit areas, families who had been relying on unsafe sources could once again access clean drinking water.
In the most affected communities, child-friendly spaces were also established to give children a safe place to play, learn and breathe in the midst of disruption. These spaces offered structure at a time when familiar routines had disappeared, and they provided psychosocial support through activities that helped children process fear, stress and uncertainty. In shelters and community centres where families gathered after losing homes, these spaces became pockets of normalcy, allowing children to reconnect with one another and feel protected while the adults around them made difficult decisions about recovery.
As recovery continues, our commitment remains the same. We will keep standing with the families who weathered Hurricane Melissa, supporting them as they rebuild their lives and helping ensure that every child has what they need to feel safe, hopeful and seen.
