27 August 2026 will mark 185 years since slavery was abolished on the Corn Islands, an archipelago on the Caribbean Coast of Nicaragua. When...



27 August 2026 will mark 185 years since slavery was abolished on the Corn Islands, an archipelago on the Caribbean Coast of Nicaragua. When slavery was abolished, the islands were under British colonial influence. They were part of the now-extinct Mosquito Kingdom, which was later called the Mosquito Reserve following the 1860 Treaty of Managua, or Zeledón-Wyke, where Britain recognised Nicaraguan sovereignty over the region. The territory was later fully incorporated into Nicaragua in 1894, following the military actions led by General Rigoberto Cabezas by order of former President José Santos Zelaya.


The emancipation of slavery came to the Corn Islands almost 8 years after the Slavery Abolition Act of 1833 was approved by the English Parliament, which came into effect on 1 August 1834 and marked the end of slavery in most British colonial territories. In the Caribbean of the Americas, such territories included Jamaica, Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Barbados, and Antigua. The Corn Islands were not emancipated under such Act as they were not legally a British colony. At that time, the islands and the entire Mosquito Coast were being claimed by some nearby countries. Despite these claims, the Mosquito Crown and Council continued to govern the coast under the influence and support of the British.


For this reason, in compliance with the British Slavery Abolition Act of 1833, on 1 January 1839, King Robert Charles Frederick of the Mosquito Kingdom proclaimed the abolition of slavery on the Mosquito Shore. He ordered that by 1 January 1841, slavery was to be entirely abolished. Nevertheless, slaveholders were reluctant to follow this mandate and did not yield to the King’s proclamation. For this reason, after a meeting in Bluefields on 10 August 1841 with Colonel Alexander MacDonald, who travelled from British Honduras (present-day Belize), military and government officials of the Mosquito Coast agreed that this mandate was going to be reinforced.


On the evening of Thursday, 26 August 1841, Colonel Alexander McDonald, Superintendent of British Honduras and Chief Commissioner for the Government of the Mosquito Nation, accompanied by King Robert Charles Frederick of the Mosquito Kingdom, Secretary Patrick Walker, Stanislaus Thomas Healy, Secretary to the King, Commandant and Sheriff of the Middle District; Peter Shepherd, Commandant and Sheriff for the Southern District; Captain Gordon, the Doctor; and several other officers, arrived on an English warship and anchored at Insurance Harbour, off the shores of Southwest Bay, Great Corn Island.


McDonald asked all slaveholders and enslaved men and women to assemble the following day at Southwest Bay at 10:00 A.M. for an announcement.


The following day, on Friday, 27 August 1841, at 10:00 A.M., McDonald, in the presence of the Miskito King and other officials, slaveholders and enslaved people, announced the following:


“I am come here to make you all free; therefore in the name of H.M. Queen Victoria, and in the name of the King of the Mosquito Shore, I pronounce you all free…”


That day, 98 enslaved men and women were emancipated from slavery, according to official records.


What follows next has been told through oral history for generations: that the newly freed women and men celebrated their freedom with a communal supper and music. They went to the swamps and seashores and captured land crabs, and to the fields they tirelessly planted and harvested breadkind. They prepared a pot of crab soup, which was served in calabash bowls. They celebrated around a flaming fire and sang ancestral songs while playing rustic instruments. This marked a new beginning for them.


Many of the newly freed ventured off the Corn Islands, while others remained, slowly incorporating themselves into their new lifestyle and working for something of their own. For a while, celebrating emancipation might have drifted away, but it was in 1852, with the arrival of Reverend Edward Kelly from British Honduras (present-day Belize), a son of formerly enslaved people and founder of the Ebenezer Baptist Church and school, the first of these institutions on the islands, that the community annually started celebrating Emancipation Day.


Our oral history tells us that in the North End vicinity, at Benard Bank, under a big fig tree, in the courtyard of Mrs. Teresa Lampson, was the stage for such communal celebrations, where young and old would gather for a thanksgiving service and later share traditional food, including crab soup, and play games.


The fact that islanders started to learn to read and write thanks to the first church and school allowed many to read Bible verses during the celebration and recite poems. From every corner of Great Corn Island: Sandfly Bay, Little Hill, Sally Peachie, South End, Quinn Hill, Southwest Bay and Brig Bay, the few people who lived scattered all around would gather to remember the struggles of their ancestors and celebrate their freedom, the freedom that they inherited.


With the years and decades, and as the Corn Islands began to fully integrate into the national sociopolitical system, the celebration began to evolve. Following the 1979 Sandinista Revolution, Emancipation Day became officially a locally declared holiday and is organised by the local government and neighbourhoods through local committees.


The celebration was also extended to three days, beginning on 27 August with Emancipation Day, followed by Coronation Day, where a pageant to elect the Queen of the Islands is held on 28 August, and since 2009, on 29 August, on Little Corn Island, the Cross Over is held to celebrate the emancipation from slavery.


These three days annually attract hundreds of national and international visitors who visit the islands to witness and be part of the different activities and programmes that take place around this time and to experience much of the Caribbean shores.


Emancipation Day is both a commemoration and celebration. It should be commemorated to remember those who died in the barbaric conditions of slavery; those who were killed or beaten to death trying to escape these conditions; those who died overseas being transported from Africa, or within the Caribbean islands, to be sold and to work in the households or plantation grounds of colonisers. Those who died chained, working or abused in every form possible.


Emancipation Day should also be celebrated as a way of looking forward. Freedom was not a gift granted to our ancestors or a favour, as colonial narratives intend to portray such events, but it was a right that should have been enjoyed from birth but was stripped away under the inhuman system that unfortunately existed and was legally allowed at that time.


Celebrating emancipation should be about reconnecting with our cultural heritage, our food, our clothes, our language, songs, stories, and all that makes us who we are.


Emancipation Day is not about the chains. It is not about slaves, or about “those who granted us freedom.” It is about embracing who we are. It is about renewing our commitment to ourselves, our community, our culture, history and identity.


It is a time to remember to be proud of being Black, Brown or mixed, to be from the Caribbean, from our homeland. This day should always be a synonym of unity, a time that brings the entire community together, near and far, and reminds us that we are all one.


From our past, we find the strength and courage to continue moving forward as our ancestors did, so that in our present, we can recognise and remember who we are, where we are and where we come from, where we are heading, and what our rightful place in this world is.

The years teach us to become better versions of ourselves. They show us how to overcome the obstacles we face along this journey we call lif...



The years teach us to become better versions of ourselves. They show us how to overcome the obstacles we face along this journey we call life, always pushing us toward growth.


Yet true greatness is not measured by luxury or material wealth. It is found in the experiences we gain and in the people we share them with—those we are fortunate enough to call home, family, and friends.


How lucky I am to have the people I do. For their love, their wisdom, and for being among the many reasons I have to smile and be grateful for this life.


I thank the Creator for His blessings, for the lessons and experiences that continue to shape me, and for the people who make this journey even more meaningful.


As I begin another year of life, my commitment to personal growth—and to doing my part to make the world around me a little better—remains.

I Am the Corn Islands I am the land where the Caribbean Sea kisses the shore, and the golden sun touches every corner. Where every meal, eve...


I Am the Corn Islands


I am the land

where the Caribbean Sea kisses the shore,

and the golden sun touches every corner.


Where every meal, every baked good,

every dance and every song

carry the resilient story of our ancestors.


I am a land built on the wisdom of our elders,

and shaped by the dreams of new generations.


A place where faith and sport

gather the whole community as one.


I am a land of turquoise and deep waters,

fertile soil and green trees,

all reflecting the vibrant spirit of my people.


I am the Corn Islands—

land of Caribbean Nicaragua.


Shayron Tower, 26 January 2026

With a New Year comes renewed purposes, hopes, and dreams. As we begin 2026, I wish nothing but the best for everyone, especially those who ...


With a New Year comes renewed purposes, hopes, and dreams. As we begin 2026, I wish nothing but the best for everyone, especially those who are struggling, alone, or feeling lost.


In the stillness of time we feel at this point of the year, before reality kicks back in for many after these days of pause, I hope you can look back with gratitude at all that you’ve done and learned over the last 12 months—and, in fact, years.


Perhaps things have been a bit difficult lately. You may be grieving, you may have lost someone, or you may be anxiously waiting for important news, or for recovery from whatever is bothering you. It is at times like these that we must remember that hope is not only a noun, but also a verb—one that pushes us forward, keeps us moving, and helps us believe in ourselves and in our surroundings.


For this year, may you find peace within yourself and clarity in the truth. May you get that job, promotion, or scholarship, be accepted into the major you so deeply desire, or finally start the project you have in mind. May you find love, or free yourself from toxic patterns. May you or your loved ones overcome sickness or financial difficulties. May you find yourself, and have the courage to keep moving forward and to feel at home within yourself.


Be kind, be hopeful, and be there for others. In a world marked by selfishness and hatred, these things make a difference—not just for others, but for ourselves as well.


Whatever you may believe in, wherever you may be from, whatever your ethnicity may be, whoever you may love, or whatever your ideologies may be, remember this: we are all one. The things that make us different should be reasons to unite us and to strengthen our shared humanity.


Wishing you a happy New Year.

There were times this year when I looked back at 2015, not because of similar events, but because I realised how many years had passed. It m...


There were times this year when I looked back at 2015, not because of similar events, but because I realised how many years had passed. It made me reflect on the many things that have happened over the last decade, not only on a personal level, but also around the world.


Ten years ago, the world was quite different. Life seemed a bit simpler in some ways, and many of us were a different version of ourselves than we are now.


Back then, many who are no longer with us were still around, blessing us with their presence, their smiles, and years of accumulated knowledge and wisdom. At the time, some people and moments felt eternal, but looking back now, I realise that as endless as time may feel, it is not.


The past is a reminder of what was and what became of it—of who we were, how we arrived here, and why. Without the past, there is no way of being who we are today. Our experiences, as sweet or bitter as they may be, are where we all come from. They are part of us. They are what shaped us and the world we live in.


As time goes by, we should remember to embrace the present—every moment and every experience—and to love and be kind. In this evolving and complex world we live in, these things truly make a difference.


I hope that during this 2025 you were able to look back at your old self and smile at how far you have come, and that you remembered the lessons and the people who helped you or were part of the process.


For the coming year, I wish you and yours continued growth and good health, and that you continue to find joy in the people and the simple things around you.

Happy holidays!

A few weeks ago, I was invited to speak on Dis a Fi Mi History, a Jamaican- and Canadian-based podcast that explores the heritage and histor...



A few weeks ago, I was invited to speak on Dis a Fi Mi History, a Jamaican- and Canadian-based podcast that explores the heritage and history of the greater Caribbean, its communities, and its diaspora.


During the episode, I shared the story behind the creation of the Corn Islands Virtual Library, a project born out of my commitment to cultural conservation and the preservation of community memory. I also reflected on my personal experiences working in heritage and cultural preservation, and on the importance of creating accessible digital spaces where history, identity, and lived experiences can be safeguarded and shared.


The conversation explored the resilient history of the Creole community and Indigenous peoples of the Corn Islands, highlighting how culture, identity, and tradition have been sustained across generations despite ongoing challenges. We discussed the role of storytelling, oral history, and digital archives in ensuring that Caribbean heritage remains visible, respected, and passed on to future generations.


I am grateful for the invitation and for the opportunity to speak not only about my work, but also about my identity and the broader responsibility we share in preserving our collective heritage. Platforms like Dis a Fi Mi History are essential spaces for amplifying Caribbean voices and fostering meaningful dialogue within the region and across the diaspora.


Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/24JrmlFENpCyLandxIDIws?si=98528c0616734dbc


Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/ni/podcast/saving-corn-island-reviving-caribbean-heritage-through/id1575454501?i=1000742161725&l=en-GB


YouTube: https://youtu.be/_oa7OOxX-34?si=uqTJGmlGMbAQCnJ-


Podbean: https://disafimihisthttporypodcast.podbean.com/e/saving-corn-island-the-virtual-library-reviving-a-caribbean-legacy/?token=2d0a092cf4981e6159c0d6401693d9ec