Editor’s note, November 2025: This one is from the archives. I first met farmer Keith Wedderburn, founder of Bluefields Organic Farm, in 2017 while updating the western, southern, and eastern sections of Jamaica for Rough Guides. After Hurricane Melissa devastated the farm and surrounding communities this past week, Keith and his team are now trying to rebuild everything: the crops, the education programs, and supporting their neighbors. I’m resharing this story to remind readers how incredibly valuable this place is, among many that were hit hard. If you’re moved to help Keith and his community rebuild, please find the verified donation link at the end of this story.

“Watch it! Stop, stop, stop!”

Keith Wedderburn, owner of Bluefields Organic Fruit Farm, rushes toward me. I’m standing beside a small, prickly bush I’d failed to notice at the start of our hike.

“Did I step on something? I stepped on a plant!”

“No, no, no—it’s more than that. It’s a scratchy bush,” he says. “I should’ve warned you about that one.”

An immediate burning sensation spreads across my ankles, right above the sock line. Keith tells me it’s harmless, medicinal even, but it scratches. The tingle continues, bearable, and I move on—sensing there’s much to discover with this farmer-teacher I’ve just met.

“You can tell I’m not on farms that often,” I joke.

It’s the first of many lessons on my two-hour tour of Keith’s farm in the hills of Bluefields, a small coastal fishing community just an hour southeast of Negril. The tour is really an education: Jamaican fruits, medicinal plants, the benefits of organic farming—all born from a family’s passion and vision.

When I first contacted Keith while researching sustainable, locally-run places for my guidebook work, he immediately agreed to show me around. He even offered to pick me up.

We meet on a Saturday morning at a parking lot in Savannah-La-Mar. I arrive on Jamaican time—thanks to my ride from Negril—but Keith is already there, patiently waiting behind the wheel of a 20-plus-seater white bus. He uses it to shuttle children to and from school every day.

As soon as I board, Keith suggests we start with history, discussing the areas we pass as he drives south and east toward his birthplace: Bluefields. The short distance reminds me how close this place is to a major tourist town, yet it feels utterly remote, deeply country. After checking out the well-known Bluefields Beach nearby, we drive uphill and arrive at the farm in less than 15 minutes.

Sitting across his parents’ home and adjacent to his own family house, Keith’s farmland awaits us along a tranquil paved road. His father waves from a distance, quickly disappearing into his home as if running from the harsh sun.

A Haven of Fruits, Vegetables, and Herbs

Keith opens a traditional wooden farm gate, smiling proudly as if introducing me to one of his children. We enter a lush property dotted with trees beneath clear blue skies.

“Farming for me has been a passion. I grew up in it,” Keith says. “My wife and I acquired this property about ten years ago.”

It had been an abandoned field, for sale for many years. Keith and his wife Sandra lived next door, eyeing it while wondering if it was within reach financially. After growing up around subsistence farming, Keith knew he wanted to farm differently—sustainably, profitably, while educating the public about healthy living. They decided to take the plunge, investigated the land, purchased it at a good price, and converted it into an organic farm.

“Why organic?” Keith asks before I do. “We noticed that food had become detrimental to people’s health because of processing. We wanted to create something healthy for ourselves and for the environment.”

In 2016, just two years after starting the farm, Keith won third place at the annual Denbigh Agricultural Show in Clarendon.

Hiking his land now—visibly filled with plant species—it’s hard to picture a place that was wild and unused for 20 years. A good thing, Keith explains, because it meant anything previously applied to the soil had time to become extinct. The Wedderburns took on the demanding task of converting the land without machinery, without pesticides or chemicals.

Although Keith humbly calls his farm “a work in progress,” it’s a stunning environment of the healthiest tropical trees you’ve ever seen, smelled, or tasted. Meticulously plotted, it brims with colorful produce—better-looking fruits than I’ve seen anywhere at markets or supermarkets. My eyebrows rise with every footstep, and every bite. That’s right—we start to pluck and taste while hiking. A walking fruit tour.

The grass rustles beneath our feet. It’s 96 degrees in the shade.

“We have over 36 different fruits and vegetables, all in different stages of development.”

We walk past a citrus tree planted in 2014. I recognize guava and allspice leaves but can’t identify the garden cherries.

“Every time I come to the farm, it’s a learning experience for me,” Keith says. “I’m serious, you know!” he adds, noticing my awe at his expertise.

Next: bananas. There are seven varieties here.

“Traditionally, banana takes nine months to bear.”

“Like women, right?”

Keith laughs. “Yes. But it bears only once.”

If there’s a hot sun sending sweat drops down my back, I don’t notice. I’m continuously sucking on one fruit or another, observing a new tree, lost in the echo of goats ringing out across the fishing village.

As if reading my thoughts, Keith mentions his sheep. “We have 13 sheep—they’re the full-time employees. They graze and keep the place clean.”

We hike deeper into the second phase of the farm, past a plant nursery. I discover loquats—a plum-looking fruit not normally grown in Jamaica. Then: sweetsop, sweet and flavorful; pomegranate; lemongrass.

“What do you know about lemongrass?” Keith is testing me.

“It helps break fever. You drink it like tea,” I say, remembering medicinal walks in Belize and other Caribbean islands.

“Good. What else?” I have no idea.

“It’s also a natural mosquito repellent.” Keith rubs a few leaves in his hands, extracting the oil in the safest way possible to avoid cuts from the blade-shaped leaves. He applies it to his arms.

When I tell him I had no idea lemongrass worked as a repellent, he quips, “That’s why you’re here.”

Besides that, the goats don’t like the smell. When they catch a whiff, they head the other way, keeping them out of the farm and away from the family’s hard work.

We move on, but not before I notice cactus, cassava used to make bammy bread, and sugar cane. Keith chops, scrapes, and hands me a juicy piece.

I taste ortanique, a cross between an orange and a tangerine.

“The ortanique is a common cold remedy. Add a little honey to it, and it’s gone!”

Then there’s the sour orange—bitter orange—the one tourists tend to like while Jamaicans shy away from it.

The variety and health of these plants are astounding. Fruits grown the traditional way, left to ripen to the rhythms of Mother Nature. Back to the roots, as my farmer guide says.

“You have to have variety—diversity,” Keith explains. “At the same time, these attract different pests. That’s the problem with agriculture today: where there’s only one type of crop in large quantity, the pest that loves it is free to multiply. But if you have a variety of plants, no one pest will dominate. Some are predators, some are prey.”

It strikes me as a metaphor for life. Diversity for the win—even in farming.

“You want to eat it now?” It’s a question I don’t mind being asked more than once. June plum, rose apple, sweetsop, sugar cane sticks that Keith chops on site—I bite, crunch, drink, forget about not putting my sticky fingers on the camera. If it’s in season, it’s part of the tasting tour.

But also: Keitt mangoes, St. Julian mangoes, East Indian mangoes, along with thyme, Simone pears, coffee, and cacao trees.

By now, I’m reluctant to reach the end of this educational afternoon.

“Coconuts!” The ultimate Caribbean treat.

“Coconuts take about four to five years to bear, producing up to 75 coconuts a year,” Keith shares. “The pumpkin, on the other hand, takes 12 months to grow. It’s nice to make soup with it. This one’s about ten pounds.”

It’s the best-looking pumpkin I’ve ever seen. I lift it to feel its weight in gold.

“You see? You can’t go hungry at the farm!” Keith laughs as I barely manage a chuckle through a mouthful of fruit. “This one has your name on it,” he adds.

I turn around to see Keith pointing at one of many star fruits hanging from its tree—gorgeous, shiny, yellow.

“You have to have an eye for the farm to see things. You didn’t see that, right?” He laughs, amused by my lack of farming prowess.

We’re at the end of the two-and-a-third acres. Or so I think.

“For the more active visitors, there’s a third part.” He points to a grassy hill. “And there’s a prize at the top.”

The Future: A Farm Stay

I sign up for the uphill hike without hesitation. When we reach the summit, there’s a house with a show-stopping panoramic view over Bluefields’ coastline and its iridescent turquoise sea. What a reward—almost as good as those juicy fruits—hidden from street view.

Staring at the sea, cooling off at the foot of a tree with my collection of fruits and vegetables, I wonder why I’d never heard of Keith’s organic farm experience before. But it makes sense: it took four years for the family to plant these fruits, herbs, and vegetables and let them naturally bear in amounts sufficient for visitors to discover and taste while hiking the farm.

Today, Bluefields Organic Fruit Farm gains more attention as schools, visitors, health and wellness experts make their way here to learn about organic farming, healthy eating, and Jamaica’s potential for agrotourism.

By the end of my tour, I’ve long forgotten about that prickly bush or the burning tickle on my ankle. As for the house at the top of the hill? It’s a nearly finished guesthouse: Keith and Sandra’s vision for a complete farm stay in the lush hills of Bluefields. Cozy bedrooms with balcony sea views, a constant breeze, fragrant fruit fields below, and the Wedderburn family home next door for home-cooked, local meals.

And fruits, of course.

A sweet, sweet Jamaican experience.

Update, November 2025: Bluefields Organic Farm has suffered devastating losses from Hurricane Melissa. Over 90% of their crops are gone. Livestock and fencing destroyed. Solar panels—essential for powering the community—severely damaged. The images of the farm and surrounding areas is heartbreaking.

In the days after the storm, their compound became a literal lifeline for neighbors: Keith and Sandra offer Wi-Fi through their Starlink connection, let families charge phones, work with neighbors to provide food. Their spirit undefeated. But Keith and his farm urgently need support to replace solar panels, restore power, and keep serving as a hub for food security, education, and healing. Please read their fundraising appeal and consider donating here.

You can also follow Keith’s transparent updates from the aftermath on his personal Facebook page.