bahamas

After praying at a memorial for his schoolmate, R.M. Bailey student Cameron Strachan is using his own journey to encourage young Bahamians to hold on to faith, education and purpose.

When Cameron Strachan stood before his schoolmates at the memorial service for his schoolmate, Anton Bowe, he was praying from a place of knowing what it means to go through a difficult season.

The 11th-grade R.M. Bailey Senior High School student delivered a heartfelt prayer that moved students, teachers and administrators.

But behind that powerful moment is a young man who says he has faced some of the hardest years of his life.

While attending A.F. Adderley Junior High School, Cameron says he struggled with his mental health— a period he describes simply as “the hardest years of my life.”

His academic performance suffered. Yet somehow, he kept serving.

He was eventually appointed Head Boy.

“For me, it was only by the grace of God,” Cameron said.

Today, he wants to use what he has learned to encourage other young people who may be quietly fighting battles of their own.

Cameron’s faith began taking shape at an early age in his Nassau Village home, where he was raised by his mother alongside his younger sister.

His mother taught them Psalm 91 and made sure they recited it repeatedly.

“Until we lived by it, until we lived in it,” Cameron recalled.

That foundation has remained with him.

And when tragedy struck his school community, Cameron felt compelled to stand before his peers and pray.

For him, school should be more than a place where young people receive an education. It should also be a place where they can find encouragement, support and a sense of safety.

“I believe that this campus is where students are going to be set free and delivered from whatever they are going through,” he said.

Cameron now hopes to become Head Boy of R.M. Bailey next academic year. But he believes leadership is about being someone another young person can approach when life becomes difficult.

His philosophy is simple: “It’s good to be book smart and Bible smart.”

His ambition is to become a police officer and eventually study law and theology, combining his desire to serve others with his Christian faith.

Adapted from Ministry of Education Bahamas

President of the Bahamas Union of Teachers Belinda Wilson knows how to make a negotiating position memorable.

“Get your tennis ready.”

Wilson used the phrase last week as teachers prepared for possible industrial action, implying a strike and a message that her members should be ready for confrontation.

Days later, after an agreement was reached at the Office of the Prime Minister, Wilson had a different instruction.

Her language changed. “Put your tennis back in the house. Your umbrellas back in the house.”

But the strategy behind it may not have changed.

For almost a year, Wilson had been applying pressure on the government over the teachers’ outstanding financial issues. She accused government negotiators of failing to negotiate in good faith, questioned the rationale behind its salary offer and warned that industrial action could take several forms.

Her strongest bargaining chip was the possibility of a strike.

Some 90.5 percent of teachers who participated in the union’s survey supported industrial action. Last Thursday, teachers at some public schools called in late. Government responded by activating contingency plans involving supply teachers, teacher reserves, former teachers and administrators.

The message was clear that a prolonged dispute could disrupt the education system.

Yet Wilson ultimately did not have to take the confrontation to its most disruptive stage.

Instead, she returned from the negotiating table declaring the union “elated.”

Did Wilson win because she forced government to move—or because she knew when to compromise?

The union initially sought a 20 percent salary increase over three years. The final agreement stretches the arrangement across five years, with teachers receiving a minimum salary of $30,100 and a maximum of $54,000, along with lump-sum payments and expanded hardship allowances for Family Island teachers.

Wilson openly acknowledged the change. “We pulled that back,” she said.

That admission is important.

Effective union leadership is extracting enough value from negotiations that members believe the final agreement was worth the fight, rather than the original demand.

Wilson appears to have understood that.

Her public rhetoric was confrontational when pressure was needed. Her message became celebratory when an agreement was secured.

That may be the real Belinda Wilson playbook: Escalate, mobilise, apply pressure, negotiate, compromise, then declare a win.

Sofia Sosa spent her days caring for newborns.

As a neonatal physician assistant in Coral Gables, she worked with their families during moments that could feel uncertain and hopeless.

Colleagues say she brought compassion, intelligence and kindness to that work.

Now, her colleagues are trying to come to terms with her life that ended so soon.

Sofia, 28, was among four members of a Miami family who died Monday when their private plane crashed into the ocean while returning from a Labor Day weekend in the Bahamas.

Her grandparents, pilot Mario Lamar, 80, and his wife, Lili Lamar, 79, were aboard the aircraft with Sofia and her younger brother, Christian Sosa, 22.

The family was returning to Miami after spending the weekend at Great Harbour Cay.

They never made it home.

Family members later mounted their own search effort, rallying civilian boaters and fishermen after the crash. On Tuesday, relatives eventually found the four family members in waters near North Andros Island, the last-known location of the aircraft.

But for those who knew Sofia, the tragedy is defined by the person they lost.

KIDZ Medical Services Incorporated said Sofia had joined the organisation nearly two years earlier and quickly became a cherished member of its medical family.

“She was a rising clinician whose compassion, professionalism, and commitment to patient care were evident in every family she served,” the organisation said.

Her colleagues remembered her in much the same way.

Kelly Giordano described her as “the sweetest,” recalling how kind she was with NICU families.

Marsha Truett remembered Sofia as “amazing, smart, funny, sweet and so very kind,” saying her loss would be felt at the NICU for a long time.

Others remembered her as a true professional—intelligent, hardworking and deeply passionate about her profession.

Maria de la Vega described Sofia as a compassionate professional who loved her family, children and nature.

Sedy Viera remembered working alongside her, saying she admired Sofia’s intelligence, beauty and dedication to her work.

The tributes paint a picture of a young woman who had built a life around caring for others while remaining deeply connected to her family.

Sofia was a graduate of Carrollton School of the Sacred Heart in Coconut Grove, where she completed high school in 2016.

Her former school joined those mourning her, asking its community to respect the family’s privacy while keeping those affected by the tragedy in their prayers.

Her younger brother Christian was also aboard the aircraft.

At just 22, he had begun building a career as a freelance photographer after graduating from Loyola Marymount University’s M-School.

He had recently fulfilled a childhood dream of photographing the Los Angeles Rams, describing the opportunity as surreal.

Their grandparents, meanwhile, were returning home with them.

Mario was a lifelong and highly experienced pilot, according to his niece, Silvi Larreau. He was also a licensed Florida attorney, admitted to the bar in 1973.

To his teachers, Anton Bowe was a young man who made them proud.

R.M. Bailey Senior High School Principal Shari Russell remembered Anton as a top-stream student who performed exceptionally well academically, particularly in the school’s Technical Studies programme.

“He made us proud in the classroom,” Russell said during a memorial service honouring the 11th grade student.

But Anton’s impact was that he was a giver and a friend. Someone willing to treat his friends to lunch simply because he could.

“He was a giver, a friend who was always willing to treat friends to lunch,” Russell said.

Before becoming an R.M. Bailey Pacer, Anton attended C.H. Reeves Junior High School, where he served as a prefect and graduated with the Class of 2025.

Those who knew him remember a young man whose personality could light up a room.

Videos shared by R.M. Bailey show Anton dancing, smiling and enjoying moments with classmates on the school grounds and inside his classroom.

They offer a glimpse of the teenager laughing, connecting with friends and being himself.

Then, on Monday morning, everything changed.

Shortly after 9 a.m., as severe weather moved across New Providence, Anton entered the school grounds and was struck by lightning.

Emergency Medical Services took him to hospital after he was found unresponsive with apparent burn injuries. Police later said he was pronounced dead at approximately 9:30 a.m.

He was a student with years of possibility ahead of him.

His death left his school community struggling to understand how a normal Monday morning could end with a memorial service for one of its own.

His uncle, Gregory Darville, expressed the rawness of that loss in a social media post.

“My nephew gone. Lord have mercy please. This hurt uncle uncle deep.”

Educator Lakia Brown remembered a recent encounter with Anton.

“Anton, it was just Thursday that I pulled my car alongside you in the school’s parking lot, and we greeted each other,” Brown recalled in a social media post. “I will miss your contagious smile and generosity.”

Brown said the conversations they shared about Jesus and Anton’s “big career dreams” would be cherished.

“I know that God will, in spite of all that’s going on, win souls for His Kingdom through your life,” Brown said.

At R.M. Bailey, the grief has been just as personal.

The school remembered Anton as an academically stellar student and a community-minded member of its Building Trades programme.

But in its tributes, it was his smile that kept returning.

“Your smiles will never be forgotten.”

“Forever in our hearts.”

“Your smiles will echo in our halls forever.”

“A student, a friend and brother. We miss you.”

“Forever young, forever loved, forever a Pacer.”

And perhaps the words that best capture the way Anton will now be remembered: “A light that burn bright will never fade.”

At around 12 years old, Freddie Mackey learned a lesson no child should have to learn: life can change overnight.

His father had been a police officer for about a decade. His mother worked at a daycare. To young Freddie, they represented hard work, stability and responsibility.

Then drugs entered their lives.

Both of his parents became caught in addiction, and the stability Freddie knew began to disappear. Eventually, he experienced homelessness and found himself navigating circumstances that could have easily changed the course of his life.

“At that age, you do not fully understand why your life is falling apart,” he recalls

.“You only know that the people you depend on are no longer able to give you the stability and protection you need.”

There were plenty of reasons for Freddie to give up. Instead, he kept moving.

Looking back, he believes God was protecting him even when he could not see where his life was headed.

“I truly believe God had His hand over my life,” he says.

His childhood taught him resilience, his circumstances taught him that life would not always be fair, and the absence of stability created in him a hunger for discipline and purpose.

He also made a decision that he would not become a product of his circumstances.

His father’s earlier career in policing had left an impression. Despite the difficulties that later overtook his family, Freddie remembered the uniform, the discipline and the idea of serving others.

In 2002, he joined the Royal Bahamas Police Force. Years later, he became a Sergeant.

For Freddie, the achievement meant far more than a promotion, but represented a journey from a homeless child in Nassau to a man entrusted with responsibility, leadership and the protection of others.

“Every promotion and every achievement reminded me that my past had not defeated me,” he says.

He eventually received the Medal for Long Service and Good Conduct—another milestone in a career that stood in stark contrast to the circumstances of his childhood.

But after approximately two decades serving the Bahamas, Freddie made another difficult decision.

He left. Moving to Toronto meant surrendering the familiarity, recognition and professional standing he had spent years building.

In Canada, he was the new person again.

He had to learn a different system, adapt to a different culture and prove himself all over again.

Today, he works as a Toronto Police Service Parking Enforcement Officer.

Sometimes, when he puts on the uniform, he thinks about the boy he once was. The child who knew homelessness, the teenager who watched addiction change his family, the young man who chose a different path and the Sergeant who served his country.

And now, the immigrant who started again.

“Only God could have brought me this far,” he says.

His greatest hope, however, is about the young Bahamian who may be living through the kind of childhood he once knew.

His message is simple: do not give up.

Stay away from drugs and crime, choose your friends carefully, get an education, learn a trade, find positive mentors, work hard and keep your faith.

Most importantly, he says, remember that your circumstances are not your destiny.

“You may be growing up in a home affected by drugs. You may be living in poverty. You may not know where your next meal is coming from.”

“But none of those things mean your life is finished before it has even begun.”

Freddie cannot change his childhood, neither can he rewrite what happened to his parents.

But he can decide what their story means.

“My past is part of me, but it does not control me.”

The Bahamas has spent decades trying to get the world to fall in love with its culture. We want visitors to taste our food, hear our music, experience Junkanoo, learn our history and take a little piece of the islands home with them.

We want Bahamian culture to travel.

But what happens when someone from outside the Bahamas helps make that culture popular—and then tries to make money from it?

Scottish social-media creator Heather Wulk, known online as “Wulk242” received backlash.

Wulk built a following by cooking Bahamian dishes and sharing her affection for the country. When she proposed selling a “Hey Cousin!” T-shirt featuring the Bahamian flag, however, some Bahamians objected.

Some questioned why Bahamians won’t support other Bahamians first. Others questioned whether Wulk should commercially use the national flag.

Who gets to benefit when Bahamian culture becomes commercially valuable?

There is already a market for Bahamian-inspired products. Bahamian businesses sell clothing, gifts, food and lifestyle products built around national identity and island culture.

Who gets to capture that value?

A Bahamian entrepreneur selling a flag-inspired shirt is participating in that economy from within the culture. A foreign creator doing the same thing occupies a different position—even if her intentions are entirely sincere.

That does not automatically make the outsider exploitative. Nor does being Bahamian automatically make every use of culture legitimate.

Wulk says she was not trying to take anything from Bahamians. She says the shirt was intended to celebrate a community that had welcomed her, and that she had planned to donate part of the proceeds to charities.

Some Bahamians agree with her.

Former Free National Movement candidate for Englerston Heather McDonald told her that culture is meant to be shared and encouraged her not to be discouraged.

Miguel Taylor argued that the critics represented only a few voices and urged her to continue.

Danielle Bandin similarly argued that Bahamians should not discourage someone who is bringing attention to the country while much larger foreign interests profit from the Bahamas.

If we want outsiders to discover Bahamian culture, should we also expect them never to build anything from that discovery?

Tourism itself depends on people finding economic value in what makes the Bahamas distinctive.

That is a conversation the Bahamas should be prepared to have—not only when a Scottish TikToker sells a T-shirt, but whenever our food, music, stories, traditions and identity become increasingly valuable in the global digital marketplace.

When the world falls in love with Bahamian culture, who gets to benefit?

For years, wherever artists in the Bahamas gathered to celebrate itself, there was a good chance Stefan Davis was nearby with an airbrush or paint brush in hand and his imagination at work at Independence celebrations, community events, Junkanoo, and cultural gatherings.

Stefan was a familiar face. But to those who knew him and his work, he was a gifted artist who turned his passion for airbrush art into a career, a business and a lasting contribution to Bahamian culture.

Davis died Wednesday night following a multi-vehicle crash in Miami, authorities said.

The Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office said the crash happened around 7:40 p.m. near Northwest 51st Terrace and Northwest 33rd Avenue.

Authorities said deputies had conducted a traffic stop shortly before the crash and determined that one of the drivers, 21-year-old Luis Manuel Perez, had an outstanding U.S. military warrant. Perez fled the stop, authorities said.

Davis, who was driving another vehicle, was taken to Jackson Memorial Hospital’s Ryder Trauma Center in critical condition and later died.

But in the Bahamas, his death has prompted an outpouring of memories about an artist whose work became part of the country’s cultural landscape.

Tammy Alluring remembered Davis as a familiar presence at celebrations throughout the Bahamas.

“Stefan was truly gifted and his artwork always stood out,” she said, recalling a photograph taken with him during this year’s Independence celebration while he worked on a mural.

Free National Movement Leader Michael Pintard described Davis as someone who “built something out of nothing,” transforming a young fascination with airbrush art into Airbrush Junkies, a name that became a fixture at the Mall at Marathon and well known across the Bahamas.

“He was able to turn a T-shirt and a can of paint into a canvas for the imagination,” Pintard said.

Yet Davis’ legacy extended beyond what he created. He also invested in people.

Pintard said Davis remained committed to teaching young Bahamians the craft he had spent decades perfecting, even as his own work gained recognition.

The Ministry of Culture and Heritage described Davis as an “artistic light” whose talent, passion and creativity left an undeniable mark on the country’s cultural landscape.

Through his work, the ministry said, he celebrated Bahamian people, culture and identity.

Minister of Culture Leslia Brice, who said she had known Davis her entire life and worked alongside him across numerous creative spaces, called him “a LEGEND” and “one of the greatest to ever do it.”

One Family Junkanoo & Community Organization called him a “fallen warrior of excellence,” while fashion artist Kedar Clarke remembered him simply as an “ICON.”

Former classmate Leslie Rolle described Davis in a social media post as an “exceptional person and human being.”

Friends and family of Dahphaney Maxine believed there was still so much life ahead of her.

At 20, the Abaco native was building a future in physical education, having transitioned from the nursing programme at the University of The Bahamas, surrounded by friends, teammates and a community that had watched her grow.

Now, those who loved her are left with memories and the painful reality that her future will remain unfinished.

Her mother, Crystal Bostwick, described a bond that went far beyond the traditional relationship between mother and daughter.

Dahphaney was her “chocolate baby”—the child who had been beside her through life’s highs and lows.

“The first beat outside of my body,” Bostwick wrote.

She described them as being like “peas in a pod,” sharing almost everything and knowing when their relationship needed to be one of mother and daughter and when it could simply be one of friendship.

The loss came just one day before the anniversary of Bostwick’s own mother’s death, adding another layer of pain to an already unbearable moment.

“I know that God would not put more on me than I can bear,” she wrote.

Maxine was found unresponsive in her university dormitory shortly after midnight on Monday and rushed to hospital after CPR was administered. She was later pronounced dead.

News of her death sent shockwaves through her family, the University of The Bahamas community and her hometown of Abaco.

But amid the heartbreak, those who knew Dahphaney are remembering her life.

Pastor Keven Pierre, who remembered meeting her when she first walked into his practice at Murphy Park eager to learn flag football, said he watched her grow into a young woman with a bright future ahead of her.

He remembered her willingness to learn, her development as an athlete and the pride that came with seeing her team win its first championship.

“Your future was so bright,” he wrote in a tribute. “Forever Tigers. Forever our champion.”

For Pierre, Dahphaney was a young person he had watched grow. And now, he said, it was difficult to accept that her life had been cut short.

Across Abaco, condolences have poured in.

North Abaco MP Kirk Cornish remembered Dahphaney as a promising young woman whose loss was being felt by her family, friends, teammates, former schoolmates and the wider UB community.

Her journey had taken her from Patrick J. Bethel High School in North Abaco to the University of The Bahamas, where she was pursuing nursing and building a future of her own.

For retired Royal Bahamas Police Force Chief Superintendent Brian Rolle, the moment was not just a graduation but more about watching his son step into the same life of service that had once shaped his own.

Surrounded by family, friends, instructors and police leaders at the Toronto Police College on August 20, Rolle travelled from the Bahamas with his wife to witness a milestone he had helped inspire years ago.

He was there to present his son, Joshua, with his police badge.

For Joshua, the journey into policing began long before he put on his own uniform.

“Seeing my father in uniform when I was a child sparked my interest in policing,” he said.

As he grew older, that childhood fascination became something deeper—a desire to understand what police officers represent and how their service can make a difference in people’s lives.

His father’s career had given him a firsthand look at that responsibility.

Brian Rolle spent years serving with the Royal Bahamas Police Force, working in mobile patrol and at the airport and harbour. During some night shifts, he recalled, only two officers were responsible for an entire division.

In those moments, communication was essential.

“Talking was my best friend,” Rolle recalled. “You learn how to communicate with people, use your head and work with the community to resolve situations.”

Those lessons followed Joshua across borders.

Joshua had already served as a police officer in the Bahamas before moving to Canada to join his wife. But starting over meant starting again—he had to undergo police training in Canada before earning the opportunity to wear the Toronto Police Service badge. For Joshua, it was a sacrifice and a fresh beginning, carrying the experience he gained at home into a new country while building a new chapter with his wife.

After moving to Canada in June 2025 to join his wife, a childhood neighbour from Freeport whom he had reconnected with years later, Joshua began researching police organizations before choosing the Toronto Police Service.

What stood out to him was not simply the size of the organization or the opportunities it offered, but the emphasis on the people wearing the uniform.

Throughout his training, recruits were repeatedly reminded to protect their mental health, look after their wellbeing and seek help when needed.

“That made me realize Toronto was the right place for me,” he said.

Joshua has now joined 55 Division, beginning a new chapter of service in one of the world’s most diverse cities.

But graduation brought another special moment. He received the Harry Mayzel Leadership Award, one of several honours presented to members of Recruit Class 26-02.

King Charles III is coming to the Bahamas, and before the red carpets are rolled out, there is a question that deserves an answer: How much will it cost us?

The last major royal visit provides a useful benchmark.

When Prince William and Catherine visited The Bahamas in March 2022, the government later reported preliminary spending of $636,194 on the visit. More than $566,000 went to New Providence businesses and vendors, while additional spending was recorded in Abaco and Grand Bahama. The government also highlighted the international media exposure generated by the visit.

CSJ Report also reported at the time that the government had purchased 40 new vehicles and rented five floors at Atlantis for the royal party and entourage.

Four years later, the circumstances are different. This time, a reigning King is coming.

Foreign Affairs Minister Fred Mitchell has indicated that the visit is expected to involve heightened security and strict protocol. But when asked about the cost, his response was striking.

“There’s no bill for our king.” He added: “Nothing too good for the king.”

But what does “no bill” actually mean?

There will inevitably be costs associated with security, transportation, protocol, government personnel, official events and preparations. Some expenses may also be absorbed by private companies or other public agencies.

The government does not necessarily have to prove that a royal visit is a bad investment.

It can argue that international exposure, diplomacy, tourism promotion and the prestige of hosting a head of state have value. In 2022, the government itself pointed to the more than 40 international media organisations that covered the visit and promoted the Bahamas internationally.

But if there is value, can we measure it?

How much will this visit cost? Who will pay? What will taxpayers provide? What will private businesses or donors contribute? And what tangible benefits will the Bahamas receive in return?

Taxpayers should know what it costs to host him.

In 2022, the public eventually got a number.

This time, perhaps the number should come before the King arrives, not months afterward.