“… A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin, and culture is like a tree without roots …” penned Jamaica National Hero Marcus Garvey. So what application is in this for communities in trepidation, contemplating being roofless and entering the start of the 2026 hurricane season? Michael Abrahams poignantly expressed another tree rootlessness in his poem, Tarpaulin. This echoes the plight of numerous persons still living in structures without any sound roof covering following the October 28, 2025, passage of Hurricane Melissa. “… Dreams blown away with them earthly possessions. Dejected and feeling rejected. Never expected to be neglected. By the elected. Still waiting for dwellings to be erected. It nu pretty. It nu cute. Big big man and little yute. Destitute. Jus a kotch like tree without root. Facing the truth. Dat they have been, abandoned …”. Presented in Parliament on May 12 was the Jamaica auditor general’s report that approximately two per cent of the $1.44 billion in donations for Hurricane Melissa relief remained unused. Additionally, there are other unused donations following the 2024 Hurricane Beryl. Abrahams continued: “… People bawling. Unda tarparlin. But the authorities them stalling. Whole heap of money sent. But only a little tups of it spent. Less than two percent. But the powers that be. Tek you and me fe idiot. Fe fool. Take the whole a-wi fah buffoon. Like we a big-head bud whey a bawl behind cow. A tell we sey dem a go fix tings soon. When tings should a well an fix by now. Dem comfortable in a fi dem residence with dem ceiling, floor, and concrete wall …”. Parliament had another announcement on May 27: the promulgation of the National Reconstruction and Resilience Authority (NaRRA) Act. This legislation promises to deliver speedily post-Melissa reconstruction projects. Of special interest is Section 4 of the NaRRA Act, “… preservation of sites and objects of architectural or historic interest …”. Persons question the interconnections and relatedness of NaRRA with existing legislation and agencies currently operating in nation-building construction and development governance. Will NaRRA engage in knowledge of construction and development history, origin, and culture? Will NaRRA arise as a tree with roots?The work of NaRRA is exciting and promises to infuse some much-needed injection into the Jamaican development landscape. It is crafted to deliver public reconstruction and infrastructure projects. These are summarised under six strategic areas. First, there is ‘Climate-Resilient Infrastructure,’ covering roads, bridges, drainage systems, schools, and health facilities. Second is ‘Relocations’, intended to transfer communities and coastal hospitals inland, away from high-risk, sea-level zones. Third is ‘Urban Redevelopment’ to transform coastal towns into climate-ready urban cores, including Black River and Falmouth. Fourth is ‘Major Public Facilities Developments’ such as a new Kingston Public Hospital and the Government Campus at National Heroes Circle. The fifth covers ‘Logistics and Aviation Infrastructure Development’ at the Vernamfield aerodrome and near-port logistics expansion at the Port of Kingston. The sixth is ‘Water and Storage’ to include rehabilitating and replacing the Yallahs - Negril raw-water pipeline.Communities wait for information about their respective neighbourhoods. Will they be invited to participate in neighbourhood consultations? Will property owners have a say in the direction of the development of their neighbourhood? Will some or all persons be relocated? Will persons get to choose their relocation destinations? Will they be compensated, and at what value for their properties, especially those holding generational family lands and freehold titles? Will they be allowed to continue livelihoods such as farming, including animal husbandry? Will the architecture of neighbourhoods and communities evolve? Will planned developments be low-rise or high-rise? Many questions abound. Speculative conversations arise, including that Jamaica is following the Singapore model. The island of Singapore is approximately the size of the parish of St Thomas in Jamaica. Its development was influenced by the 1960s model that existed in Jamaica. Singapore’s development is more than high-rise buildings but is rooted in basic social interventions that addressed housing and the needs of the poor, resulting in a successful poverty-alleviation strategy. Jamaica eagerly awaits learning of similar strategies and how all Jamaicans, including its diaspora, may participate in such post-Hurricane Melissa social interventions. Like with hurricanes, single-family buildings are being demolished but replaced by high-rise architecture. Many residents are forced to engage in expensive and lengthy court proceedings over the legality of such developments. Were citizens given prior notice of the wave of development changes planned for their neighbourhoods? Were they put on development-watch? Were they asked to evacuate? Were they advised of refuge shelters available for those who wish to continue to live in low-rise, low-density residential communities? Were they informed that their house and the houses next door were rezoned for a high-density mix of commercial and institutional architecture with hard landscaping rather than the continued residential architecture with soft landscaping? Such changes were discovered overnight after a bulldozer arrived next door. Was the requisite prior neighbourhood modification of the existing restrictive covenant undertaken? Today, amid the density of high-rise developments in Singapore and the beauty and discipline of that island stand some of the most expensive real estate in the world, called the ‘bungalow,’ possessing varying architectural styles and classifications. They model exactly what is commonplace in Jamaican suburban neighbourhoods today. Containing low-rise architecture with high ceilings, verandas, and maximising natural ventilation, including timber designs, the Singapore bungalow is sought after by global investors. Such detached high-style single-family houses surrounded by gardens with fruit trees in Singapore and Jamaica, located in suburban neighbourhoods, have been upgraded to accommodate smart technology, infinity pools, and sustainable features. This architecture in Jamaica, therefore, must be classified today as endangered. Should these neighbourhoods be protected as suggested under the NaRRA Act as ‘… sites and objects of architectural or historic interest …’? Bungalow neighbourhoods are exclusive in Singapore and command the highest real-estate value in the world, ranging from US$15 million to US$100 million, depending on size and location. In this new wave of intense development in Jamaica at all levels and across all sectors, rural and urban communities may need to become overtly proactive in the preservation of their suburban bungalow architecture.What if, in Jamaica, instead of taking developers to court, people were to engage authorities to reverse current zoning changes in their neighbourhoods? What if collectively began to demand protection of their Jamaican tropical bungalow architecture of detached houses surrounded by gardens and fruit trees? What if such zoning changes were proven to have contravened the rights of the people even as other similar cases internationally have been successful? What if people declared that their own bungalow neighbourhoods must be preserved as history, origin, and culture with deep roots? Dr Patricia E. Green is an architect and historic preservationist. She is proponent of sustainable habitats and inclusive urban spaces. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com