We often underestimate the impact that mental health has on our lives and on the lives of those around us. Sometimes, inherited patterns, transgenerational experiences, certain environments, habits, or even people can negatively affect our mental wellbeing. 

Everyone out there is going through something, whether we know it or not. Let’s be kind to others; we never truly know their struggles. Let’s support them when we can, but above all, let’s also prioritise our own mental wellbeing: say no when we need to, walk away if it brings us peace, and bravely seek help when we need it. 

In a complex world, our minds will always be challenged. But that does not mean we are weak, it simply means we are human, and we all need support from time to time. 

On this World Mental Health Day, let us remember the importance of caring for ourselves and our mental wellbeing, for this is the first step towards being there for others too. 

Let’s take care of ourselves — and one another.

As I learned of the death of Ms Georgina Brack, affectionately known as Miss Betsy, I reflected on the calm, optimistic, and charismatic person she was.

Miss Betsy was one of those people whom life turns into family through bonds. As a child, I remember visiting her and my great-granduncle at Jokeman Bank on Little Corn Island. She would always welcome you with a smile and offer ginger beer or sorrel drink, corn or cassava cake, or whatever she had in the kitchen at the time.

During my teenage years, when hosting programmes at La Isleña radio station, she became one of my faithful listeners. Whenever I saw her, she would say, “I heard you on the air. I always listen to your programme. I’m a faithful listener….” Even in recent years, as part of the archiving work for The Corn Islands Virtual Library, I had the opportunity to sit down with her twice to discuss the history of Little Corn Island and its people, where she generously shared her ancestral knowledge.

Just a few months ago, I had the chance to visit her. During our conversation, I asked her how, despite her age, she still looked so young and strong. She smiled and replied, “Though the knee is a bit weak, I am still going hard. The key is to eat good, not worry about what doesn’t concern you, and live one day at a time.”

Her words always came with a smile, and she always had some conversation to share while sitting, making doormats, or gazing out at the Caribbean Sea, which she called the best view.

For many of us, she was family and someone we had known since a very early age. I truly cherish the conversations and the advice I always received from her.

My condolences to the Sjogreen Brack family on the loss of their beloved mother and grandmother.

Rest in peace, Miss Betsy.

Great Corn Island and Little Corn Island, the day is here once again, when we remember and celebrate the freedom of our ancestors.

The history of our islands is built upon the strength and resilience of those who have roamed these soils for centuries, like the Kukra people, the first to walk the shores of these lands and harvest its grounds up until the mid-1600s. These people were later scattered, caught, and enslaved by the first set of Europeans who visited, some perishing while others merged with the enslaved Africans that were brought over later on from the other side of the Atlantic.

With the arrival of the first British settlers between the late 1600s and early 1700s, Quinn Hill and the southwest area of Great Corn Island became the home of the first foreign families that inhabited the islands, as it was a strategic point, not only for the height of the hill that allowed arriving or passing vessels to be spotted easily, but the shores of Southwest Bay also served as a natural port, where many would anchor when coming from nearby or foreign lands.

These families migrated to the islands to exploit its grounds, and for that reason, they brought over enslaved people from Africa, who would work tirelessly and in inhumane conditions, either at households or on the plantation grounds, where cotton and sugar cane were harvested and later exported to the Greater Caribbean and England. Many of the enslaved people rebelled and tried to escape the life that was forced upon them; some were killed, others were sent away, and the majority were forced to continue working under rain and sun with chains tied to their feet.

However, fate gave a twist and the destiny of these people changed one day. It was on 27 August 1841, that the news of freedom reached our land. Colonel Alexander McDonald, Superintendent of the English Crown in British Honduras, arrived early in the morning on a war vessel at Southwest Bay. He summoned all enslaved people and asked them to call those who were considered their owners at that time, and he proclaimed the Emancipation Act, which, among other things, according to the original document, said:

“…be it enacted, that all enslaved persons on the Corn Islands shall, from this day forward, be free and forever released from slavery.”

McDonald said these words and proclaimed it in the name of Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and Robert Charles Frederick, King of the Mosquito Coast.

This moment represented a key point in our islands’ history, as there would be no more suffering and chains, for slavery was no more. For that reason, the newly freed women and men decided to celebrate that day with supper; they went to the swamps to catch land crabs and to the fields where they had worked for many years to gather breadkinds and herbs to prepare a crab soup. That night, they ate, sang, and danced to the sound of traditional rhythms, celebrating their freedom.

But the tradition of celebrating emancipation began years later, when Reverend Edward Kelly, from Belize, founded the Ebenezer Baptist Church and School in 1852. Kelly, the son of former enslaved people, reminded the locals of the importance of remembering their parents’ and grandparents’ freedom, and together with the residents, introduced the Emancipation Day celebration in North End, at Bernard Bank, under a big fig tree.

The celebration at first was a Thanksgiving service, where poems, songs, traditional food, and games took place with young and old joining in. But over the decades, especially after 1980, it expanded and became a local holiday as we know it today, with the government promoting and assuming its organisation along with the neighbourhoods.

As we review our historical passages, it is important to acknowledge these two questions: what does celebrating this day truly signify for us as islanders, and primarily for the Creole people? And what does emancipation mean?

This day is more than floats or “carrozas”, as we call them, it is more than the carnival, or even more than the election that takes place. Celebrating this day, our Emancipation Day, is a remembrance of the struggles of our ancestors; we remember those who perished fighting for their freedom and we celebrate the legacy that has been handed down to us by our grandparents. We celebrate the rich culture that we have, evident not only through our features, but also through our food, language, and beliefs.

On this day, we do not celebrate crabs, as delicious as the soup may be; we celebrate our identity, we celebrate who we are. And for that reason, we must all remember that our responsibility is to conserve our culture not only on special occasions, but to let our culture be part of our daily life, and share it with others – with our family, neighbours, and friends – so we can all embrace and enjoy our roots for them to live on.

Emancipation means being proud of who we are and where we come from. It is not celebrating chains, but celebrating authenticity. It is to embrace who we are, the things that make us different, that make us unique, and proud, while still being part of a greater nation like ours. That and much more is emancipation, and we must keep it, we must celebrate it, we must conserve it, we must never let it die, no matter how near or far we are from home. 

As we reconnect with our history and shared heritage, let us also remember those who dedicated their lives to conserving it – our grandparents, our great-grandparents, or remarkable people who sadly are no longer with us, like Mrs Lestel Downs and others, or those who still live today and whose ancestral knowledge we should embrace.

So, my brothers and sisters, islanders, let us not forget who we are, and why we celebrate this day. Let us continue being proud of who we are and continue living day by day our identity.

Happy Emancipation Day to all!

Not many people have the privilege of having their great-grandparents around them, but I was lucky enough to be one of those few.

My great-grandmother, or Granny Maggie as all of us used to call her, was a hardworking woman, independent and faithful. From making nacatamals, selling bolis, doormats made out of recycled cloth, guava jelly, and much more, she knew how to do things on her own, rarely ever asking much from others.

She always believed that God would provide for her every day, and as she cut coconuts in the afternoon to later feed her chickens, she would hum the gospel medleys she listened to on the radio—her way of connecting with her Creator.

With her blue eyes, sitting in solitude, she would look out to the horizon of the Caribbean from her native Sandfly Bay, monologuing or healing whoever passed by, yelling, “Granny.”

I will forever cherish the conversations I had with her in her kitchen or living room, ever since I was a kid, where she would recall with pleasure some of her experiences from her youth, share a spooky tale that crossed her mind, or tell me the latest news I wasn’t aware of.

Her guava jelly never failed whenever I visited her before leaving the island. She would always put it in a black bag and tell me to take it for the end of the trip, to eat with bread.

With the little she had, she tried to share with others, even if it was a plate of rundown, fried fish or a boli. She was happy and valued those who were always around. For me, she was an example of the joy and pleasure a simple and independent life brings.

As she now rests and has travelled to where she always called “Up there, Home,” I honour her life and am thankful for having her around throughout my childhood and young adult life.

She will surely be deeply missed by those who loved and cared for her. 

Rest in peace, Granny!

Another year to continue growing and harvesting achievements. Another year to learn and embrace the gift of life.

I am grateful for all of life’s blessings, and for the extraordinary people and experiences that have shaped who I am today.

As I continue on my path, I look forward to all that lies ahead, as every experience—whether bitter or sweet—is what leads us to where we are meant to be.

Cheers to all that is to come!

Even the strongest tree falls after resisting many years of storms and windy days, but this is sometimes necessary for seeds to grow in its place, to bear stronger roots and a stronger trunk.

So is the journey of us humans. We rise, and when at the peak, we sometimes feel like we are falling. Whenever we do, it may seem like the end. However, there is a chance to grow in every situation we face, as joyful or painful as it may be.

Just like a tree, the key is to be rooted in fertile soil and surrounded by others who shelter and uplift us, like roots intertwined beneath the ground, until our branches have reached the sky and dense foliage once more.

As the season comes and goes, so do the leaves, flakes, and petals of them all, each with the promise of something much more beautiful. In the end, that is time’s way of shaping us all. As one with this earth, we each experience different sunsets and twilight, just to become something much greater.