Spike on Civic Engagement
- Dec 22, 2025
- 8 min read
Updated: Dec 23, 2025
“Kapok” helps communities understand themselves before they try to change anything.
I recently spent 30 days in the home of my ancestors; Jamaica.
It became abundantly clear that I understood nothing but my own character was entering cultivation mode again.
With every experience or project I undertake it’s an expectation that is become my reality that I always become more.
On this grand adventure, I had so many questions about where my mother grew up with my grandfather‘s life might’ve been like before coming to Canada and recalling what I could about visits I had made to this land in my youth in the late 80s.
My visit was in response to hurricane Melissa and it’s complete destruction of my mother‘s hometown of Black River.
The headquarters of our mission team was the Temple X Music Mansion in Montego Bay.
I’m grateful for the time spent with my great aunt Verona and uncle Henry in Portmore and a day trip next-door to the capital city of Kingston.
It was during my initial driving experience between Montego Bay and Parottee that I began to question how all that was taken away, could be restored efficiently.
In my inquisitive mind it’s primarily important to ask what the problem is before trying to solve the problems I observe.
Something that stood out as the most powerful symbol of this lands resilience was the Kapok Tree.

“A big, strong tree weh live long, hard fi cut down, an always deh deh.”
The Kapok tree is most commonly known as the Silk Cotton Tree or Botanical name: Ceiba pentandra
I was an awe of this tree. I saw it standing strong in the middle of mangroves, full of zinc roof panels, broken fishing boats, and plenty of home appliances, furniture, and clothing that had been swept away from homes by the storm named Melissa.
I was in awe of this tree holding hillsides together where concrete homes had been folded into rubble.

This tree became a living symbol of my faith in the deep roots of Jamaican culture and the global diaspora I am part of.
I am Shane “Spike” Desloges, a 13th generation French Canadian and First generation Jamaican Canadian.
During this mission to Jamaica, I was one of many of the Canadian Jamaican Relief Team.
I also created this logo for our team.

today just a day after my mother‘s birthday celebration with no boats to go and see I set my mind back to this tree and its status.
How Protection Works in Jamaica
Cultural Protection (Very Strong)
The Silk Cotton tree is one of the most culturally respected trees in Jamaica.
Traditionally not cut
Often left standing even when land is cleared
Associated with ancestry, history, and continuity
This cultural protection is often stronger than law in practice.
Legal / Regulatory Protection (Conditional)
Under Jamaica’s Forestry Act and National Land Agency / Forestry Department regulations:
Large, mature trees (especially landmark or heritage trees)
→ often require permits to remove
Trees on:
Public land
Road reserves
Watersheds
Flood-prone or erosion-sensitive areas
→ are protected by default
Local authorities and the Forestry Department may refuse removal outright
In many cases, a Silk Cotton tree:
Cannot be cut without approval
Will trigger inspection
May be designated “protected in place”
After learning all this, I had to ask:
What about the people?
How are people being respected in contrast to these mighty trees?
If a tree can be culturally protected, legally guarded, and collectively respected—what does that say about how we value human life, human stability, and human futures?
That question stopped my eyes from wadering the landscapes and forced me to examine what my own mind could produce to elevate the status of people to a strength and protection equal to—if not greater than—that of the Silk Cotton tree itself.
Because if we know how to protect what we revere, then the challenge is not capacity.
It is intention.
And that is where the real work begins.
Many questions i must have answered before the next phase.

1. Who actually lives here — not on paper, but in reality?
2. Is this place growing, shrinking, or quietly disappearing?
3. Who is missing from official counts and why?
4. How does population shape what this community can sustain next?

1. Who is willing to show up when nothing is being promised yet?
2. What prevents people from participating — access, trust, time, or belief?
3. Whose voices are always heard, and whose are consistently absent?
4. What would make participation feel safe, worthwhile, and respected?

1. Is water available here every day, or only sometimes?
2. Is the water safe, affordable, and trusted by the people who use it?
3. Who carries the burden when water access fails — women, children, elders?
4. How does water reliability shape health, work, and dignity in this place?

How often does the power actually work here — and how often does it fail?
When power goes out, who loses income, learning, safety, or care first?
How much of daily life is built around expecting failure instead of stability?
What would reliable power unlock for this community if it could be trusted?

1. Can people, goods, and help reach this community in all seasons?
2. Which roads quietly decide who gets access to opportunity—and who does not?
3. How do poor roads multiply the cost of living, health care, and education?
4. What would change here if movement was no longer a daily struggle?

1. Who can connect reliably here—and who is effectively offline?
2. How does weak connectivity limit education, income, and voice?
3. What opportunities disappear when signal and access are inconsistent?
4. Is connectivity treated as a luxury, or as essential infrastructure?

1. Where does waste actually go once it leaves the household?
2. Who lives closest to what others throw away?
3. How do sanitation failures quietly affect health, dignity, and safety?
4. What would change if clean surroundings were treated as a right, not a privilege?

How far must someone travel to receive basic medical attention?
What delays or barriers turn minor issues into emergencies?
Who postpones care because cost, transport, or time makes it impossible?
How does health access shape trust in the systems meant to protect life?

1. If something goes wrong here, who arrives—and how quickly?
2. Are emergency systems designed for this place, or merely passing through it?
3. Which barriers—roads, communication, coordination—slow help when minutes matter?
4. How prepared is the community itself before outside help arrives?

1. Do people feel safe moving through this community—day and night?
2. Whose safety is assumed, and whose must be negotiated?
3. How do lighting, visibility, and shared space shape trust?
4. What would make safety a shared responsibility rather than a constant worry?

1. Where do people actually go when a hurricane threatens this area?
2. Are shelters strong, accessible, and trusted by the community?
3. Who is unable to reach safety—elders, children, people with disabilities?
4. What does preparedness look like when evacuation is not an option?

Where does water collect here—and where does it always return?
Which homes and roads are most exposed when rain becomes relentless?
What damage repeats itself year after year, and why?
How much of this risk is natural—and how much is the result of neglect?

Do children here have consistent access to early education?
Are schools safe, resourced, and reachable every day?
Who falls behind first—and how early does that begin?
What foundations are being set here for lifelong learning and confidence?

1. Can young people realistically access secondary education from here?
2. What barriers—distance, cost, transport, safety—interrupt that path?
3. Who leaves school early, and what choices are left to them afterward?
4. How does secondary education shape confidence, agency, and future options?

What spaces exist here for young people outside of school hours?
Are youth programs accessible, consistent, and safe?
Who is excluded from opportunity, and why?
What happens to talent when there is nowhere to put it?

1. Do students here have access to devices and reliable internet?
2. Is digital learning supported—or left to chance and personal resources?
3. Who is quietly excluded when education moves online?
4. How does digital access reshape what learning is possible from this place?

1. What kinds of jobs actually exist within reach of this community?
2. How easily can people move goods, skills, and services to market?
3. Who is working informally because formal pathways are blocked?
4. What local assets could become sustainable livelihoods if supported?

1. Can people get to work, school, and care without excessive cost or delay?
2. Who is left behind when transport is unreliable or unsafe?
3. How does mobility shape economic participation and daily freedom?
4. What would change if movement was dependable and dignified?

Which roads, ports, and corridors carry goods through this place?
Where do delays, damage, or bottlenecks quietly raise prices for everyone?
How vulnerable are these routes to weather, neglect, or disruption?
What would improve reliability for farmers, vendors, and businesses alike?

Are basic building materials available locally when they’re needed?
How do cost, transport, or shortages slow recovery and growth?
Who can afford to rebuild safely—and who is forced to compromise?
What local materials or methods could reduce dependence and delay?

If only one thing could be fixed here right now, what would it be?
Whose priorities shape decisions—and whose are ignored?
How are trade-offs discussed when resources are limited?
What does this community agree cannot wait any longer?

1. What infrastructure here is damaged, failing, or no longer safe?
2. How long has this damage been present—and why has it remained unresolved?
3. Who adapts daily to broken systems that were meant to be reliable?
4. What risks are being normalized simply because they’ve become familiar?

1. Who do people turn to here when something needs to be done?
2. Is leadership visible, trusted, and accountable to the community?
3. How are new leaders—especially youth—identified and supported?
4. What happens when leadership is absent, overstretched, or ignored?

1. What aid has reached this community—and from whom?
2. Was the aid timely, appropriate, and aligned with real needs?
3. Who was included, and who was unintentionally left out?
4. Did aid build local capacity—or create new dependencies?

1. What strengths already exist here that development could build upon?
2. Which risks—social, environmental, or structural—must be addressed first?
3. Is this community ready to receive investment, programs, or growth—and why or why not?
4. What would responsible development look like if it respected people as much as place?

Who controls access to water here—and on what terms?
Which communities experience reliability, and which live with rationing or uncertainty?
How has development changed public access to coastlines, rivers, and freshwater sources over time?
What would fair, shared water governance look like if communities were treated as stakeholders, not obstacles?

Again, I am Shane “Spike” Desloges.. 13th generation French Canadian and First generation Jamaican Canadian.
I believe all these questions are valid for every person in every community, but most specifically and immediately for the people of Jamaica.
Kapok App — Phased Development Plan
Phase 1 — Community Voice Capture (Foundation)
Before systems, before solutions — voices begin to appear.
This is where Kapok starts.

Create 25 surveys, one for each Kapok layer.
Purpose:
Establish baseline civic intelligence
Invite participation without promise or pressure
Identify early adopters and stewards
This phase answers one question only:
Who is willing to speak when no solution is being sold?
Phase 2 — Participation Mapping & Visibility
Roots below. Signals above. Understanding forms between them.

Aggregate responses by:
Parish
Community
Layer completion
Purpose:
Make participation visible
Show where voices are concentrated or missing
Create collective accountability through transparency
This phase answers:
Where is engagement happening—and where is it absent?
Phase 3 — Community Salons & Steward Formation
Roots pull people closer before branches reach outward.

Use survey data to host:
Layer-specific community salons
Youth-led discussions
Priority-setting sessions
Purpose:
Convert insight into dialogue
Identify local stewards
Build civic literacy around trade-offs
This phase answers:
Can communities interpret their own data together?
Phase 4 — Spatial Intelligence & Layer Integration
Understanding forms where layers begin to listen to one another.

Introduce geographic intelligence:
Community clustering
Risk overlays (flood, access, damage)
Opportunity mapping (education, jobs, transport)
Purpose:
Move from opinions to patterns
Reveal systemic relationships across layers
This phase answers:
What is structural, and what is situational?
Phase 5 — Readiness Scoring & Pilot Alignment
Systems reveal themselves when every signal is finally aligned.

Synthesize all layers into:
Development readiness indicators
Pilot eligibility signals
Partner alignment metrics
Purpose:
Match investment to preparedness
Avoid extractive or premature intervention
This phase answers:
Where can action land responsibly right now?
Phase 6 — National Stewardship Platform
Expand Kapok into:
A living civic intelligence system
Youth stewardship pipelines
Policy and partner integration
Purpose:
Institutionalize listening
Protect people the way Jamaica protects its wood and water.!
This final phase answers:
How do we ensure people are never invisible again?

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