Calabash 2025 marks Treasure Beach’s triumphant return after Beryl
WESTERN BUREAU:
Nearly 11 months after Hurricane Beryl barrelled through Treasure Beach, St Elizabeth, damaging homes, shuttering businesses, and breaking spirits, the beloved south coast village found itself restored by storytelling, poetry, and the power of community.
The 2025 Calabash International Literary Festival, themed ‘Bless Up’, was more than a return to form. It was a resurrection.
“It gave us something to work towards,” said Jason Henzell, co-founder of the festival and operator of Jake’s Hotel. “We knew Calabash was a milestone we had to hit, not just for the festival, but to show that Treasure Beach had been built back with love and gratitude.”
Though his hotel sustained major damage, Henzell threw himself into recovery efforts, coordinating with local and international partners to help restore more than 1,200 roofs through collaborations with the Global Empowerment Mission and NCB Foundation.
“My children saw me under tremendous stress, but I think it was a blessing,” he said. “They saw what it means to dig deep and come back stronger. And we’re not just back, we’re better than we were before.”
The festival itself was packed. With 1,800 chairs under the tent and hundreds more patrons standing, sitting on the ground, or perched on verandahs, Henzell believes the turnout may make Calabash the second-largest literary festival in the world after the UK’s Hay Festival.
Not everyone lost their physical property to the Category Four hurricane last July, but few escaped the emotional toll.
Charlotte Wallace, who operates Callaloo Boutique, a vibrant shop featuring Jamaican-made fashion and homeware, said miraculously her store was spared. Still, she remained shuttered for months.
“We had three and a half months of zero business,” Wallace said. “No electricity for two months. No Wi-Fi for three. We couldn’t even run credit card transactions.”
Though her shop remained intact, the sense of collective grief weighed heavily.
“What’s a business without the people around it?” she asked. “We were all in this together.”
Last weekend during Calabash, her shop was filled with new and long-time customers.
“It put Treasure Beach back on the map. We’re 100 per cent thankful.”
Matthew Harris, who operates a popular morning cookshop known simply as Corner Shop, said the festival delivered his busiest weekend in months.
“I sell dumpling and salt fish ‘flitters’ [and] all kinds of fish – no meat,” he said, beaming. “People come here for breakfast. This weekend, I had to stay open late.”
Though his tone was light-hearted, his gratitude was clear.
“Everybody that come to Treasure Beach support all of us,” he said. “This is the most crowd we’ve seen in a long time.”
When asked if Calabash should return more frequently, he didn’t hesitate.
“Every two years? That’s too long. Make it every two months!”
Juliet Thompson and her husband Wayne, who operate Nat’s Place, were among those hit hardest by the storm. Their Airbnb lost its roof entirely.
“We lost everything, our roof, our personal belongings,” Juliet recalled. “I couldn’t take guests for two months. There was no electricity, no Internet.”
But Calabash brought light.
“We were fully booked. Even with cancellations, the rooms filled again the same day. People came from all over,” she added.
Wayne added, “Calabash is special. Guests book a year in advance. They come back not just for the festival, but for Juliet, she makes them feel like family.”
Mrs Thompson’s warmth has earned her recognition beyond Treasure Beach; she was recently featured on booking.com.
With voices like Henzell, Wallace, Harris, and the Thompsons echoing through the lanes of Treasure Beach, one thing is clear: Calabash 2025 wasn’t just a cultural event, it was a collective act of healing.
As a tribute, reggae icon Burning Spear closed the festival on Sunday night. The crowd – locals, diaspora, and international visitors alike – stood shoulder to shoulder under the open sky. Some still rebuilding. All of them united by resilience, storytelling, and the shared conviction that even in the face of devastation, blessings remain.