Less fortunate hope for survival this Christmas

In a season built around abundance, the women who sit near the Supreme Court in downtown Kingston measure Christmas differently - by whether they live to see the day, even if it comes with empty plates.

At a time when many households are preparing holiday meals and family gatherings, others say their hopes have narrowed to the basics: food, stability, and the chance to make it through another year. When asked what she would write in a letter to Santa Claus this Christmas, 66-year-old Linnette Ferguson from Arnett Gardens paused before answering.

"If me no even have nothing fi eat and me live fi see the day, me give God thanks," she told THE STAR. "Greatest thing that. Anything can come after."

Ferguson is on the streets only a few days each week, but when she comes, her 'work hours' are from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m. She asks for food rather than money.

"People prefer give me tings and food items," she explained. "If me nuh deh here, how me ago eat? Begging is my job." Before age slowed her down, she worked as a domestic helper, but admitted that now "me nuh have the strength". Her Christmas wish is modest.

"If God bless me wid a likkle thing, me can stay home and cook," she said. For her, the street is not a choice but a necessity, a routine shaped by age, limited income, and the constant pressure to find food.

Across from her, another elderly woman shared a struggle shaped by decades of hardship. She said she has spent more than 25 years on the streets, a reality that began after the death of her only child.

"She die leave three likkle grand one," she said. She explained that without steady family support or a reliable income, the responsibility to help her grandchildren has fallen entirely on her. Begging, she said, is the only way she can contribute to their survival.

"Sometimes me beg and the people dem shame me like dog," she admitted, adding that her greatest fear is that desperation will drag the children into unsafe paths.

"Me nuh want the pickney dem turn nuh gunman," she said.

Her Christmas wish is a modest one, to have enough food to give them when they visit. She mentioned that her birthday falls on Boxing Day, but celebrating it is rare.

"Hungry hot, eno. Sometimes me nuh have nothing fi give the grandchildren."

Her experience, like Ferguson's, reflects a broader reality facing ageing Jamaican women who spent their lives in informal jobs such as domestic work. Without pension, healthcare support, or stable housing, many now find themselves navigating homelessness or near homelessness in their later years.

Nearby sat 63-year-old Jennifer Bird, who describes herself as being "partially homeless". She said she still has a place to sleep at times, but the security of having a home has faded with each passing year.

"From I took sick in 2013, I had a stroke, and nothing was the same after that," she explained. Once a domestic worker who lived comfortably on her savings, she now faces uncertainty, alleging that there is a desire to see her leave the place she currently calls home.

"But I don't have anywhere to go," she said. "You can basically say I'm homeless. It's a possibility."

Bird visits downtown Kingston often, not only because she gets hungry; she also finds comfort among the other women.

"Sometimes I don't have anything to eat, so I come out here to keep my friends company," she said. Despite her own worries, Bird's Christmas wish centres on the people around her.

"While I can say I wish for a house, there are other people who simple want food to eat," she said. Her hope for the holiday is to see her friends eat, laugh if they can, and experience even a moment of relief from the hardship that defines their days.