The morning after the storm had passed.
My first time seeing the full extent of the damage Irma had caused was five days after the hurricane had hit. Before the storm, one of my favorite views of St. Thomas was from the passenger side window of a black Toyota truck. As we drove down winding roads that climbed up and down the hilly landscape, this island had captured my heart.
Now, from the same passenger side window I saw only a skeleton of the St. Thomas I knew before. The once lush, green landscape was now bear, power lines hung limply across the roads, and debris was scattered. Before this, the only news I could receive was filtered through the five other people who came and went from the house during the day. They brought back pictures and reports, of the destruction, but nothing could have prepared me for witnessing it firsthand.
As we continued driving toward campus, we listen to the radio. The DJ announced in his deep, smooth voice, “This is for the people of St. Thomas, stay strong,” and an upbeat reggae hit began. I sing along to the familiar chorus, “So nice, so nice. Sweet, sweet St. Thomas nice.” We passed lines of people waiting in the hot sun for food and gas. My heart ached for the citizens of the island, the community that had so graciously welcomed me. I was suddenly exhausted as the full force of emotions swept over me. This disaster has taken everything out of the people, the land, and me.
In the Eye of the Storm
“Time to wake up, are you guys ready for a hurricane?” Travis announces as he steps into the room and turns on the lights. In my groggy haze, this sentence doesn’t sound all that strange. “What time is it?” I ask. I always want to know what time it is. I grab my phone from the table to see its 5:00 a.m.
After a breakfast of egg sandwiches, we headed down into the bunker. By 8:00 a.m. we had everyone and all of our supplies arranged in the small space. Our group included 4 college students, 2 seven year old girls, 3 adults and one dog. We started the day with Monopoly. Even after 4 hours we still didn’t end up finishing the game. I was losing anyways, the two young girls; Maya and Jada were kicking my butt. It was the perfect game to keep them entertained as the storm started to move in.
While the wind had been strong through most of the morning, it started to really pick up around lunch. The lights finally went out, and the generator kicked in. Unfortunately, this didn’t last very long as the generator shut down and we lost all power. We lit candles and used flashlights around the bunker.
The first thing I noticed, besides the sound of the wind outside, was the change in pressure. I had to keep popping my ears as if I was flying in an airplane. While the eye of a hurricane is fairly calm, the eye wall is the area where some of the strongest winds occur. St. Thomas was about to be in the middle of the eye wall.
Before hand, it was explained to me how during a hurricane the wind would come from the North, and then suddenly switch direction. I was able to witness this phenomena from one of the small windows in bathroom. We could see the wind was coming out the north, nearly bending the tree in front of us at 90 degrees. Suddenly it switched and was coming from the South. Huge tree branches tumbled past the house. This sudden switch is when most of the damage occurs. As trees, walls, and other structures are weakened after being slammed by 150 mph wind, the sudden switch simply blows it all away.
In the midst of the strongest part of the storm, our secure structure was threatened. There was one metal door for us to enter and exit through. Even with the deadbolt locked, it seemed as if the door was about to be sucked open. I watched from afar as the men secured straps to the handle to help hold it closed. At the same time another window in the room that had been covered with a piece of plywood began to rattle. You could see the nails begin to loosen as the wood began to shake. It flew off into the yard, as if it was a piece of paper tossed into the wind.
From the exposed window we had a view of the ocean. The waves that came in with the swell were easily 20 feet high. The black rocks that stuck up out of the reef below were swallowed up by the walls of water coming in. It was terrifying to witness the pure force this storm contained, yet I couldn’t keep from watching.
I walked into the other room where Maya and Jada were. The music they played blocked out some of the sounds of the storm. The girls had been fairly calm throughout the day, although they had no idea in the other room the door was barely hanging on. They were worried about the roof blowing off from the upper level of the house, but we comforted them. In the dimly lit room we talked and played card games.
The wind finally began to slow down around 6:00 p.m., enough for the rest of the family to head back upstairs. Without air conditioning the bunker was still hot and sticky, smelling of stale body odor. We stepped out into the fresh, night air to escape.
After a hurricane all there is to hear is the hollow lonely sound of wind and ocean. Waves and gusts blending into one. A deafening white noise. I fell asleep to the lullaby as it continued well into the night.
Aftermath
In the days after the storm I spent most of my time with Maya and Jada. The best way for me to help around the house was to keep them occupied. I welcomed the distraction, it kept my mind off of the questions spinning around in my head. The guys worked on clearly the yard, or helped out other neighbors. In between her trips gathering supplies and checking in on other houses, Travis’ mom would cook for us. His stepdad would go into town to help at the hospital, and gave us some of the first reports of the damage the island had received.
Without the generator, the house would be out of power and running water for weeks. Those who did have operating generators allowed us to come over, eat dinner with them, and shower at their houses. One neighbor even allowed us to hook up an extension cord to his generator so we still had a working fridge. No matter the challenge or situation, people were so willing to share resources.
Our contact with the outside world was limited. We could climb up the hill to get little bit of phone service. As people caught word of this area having phone service, cars lined up along the steep road, blocking traffic. Rumors quickly circulated about looting and armed citizens on other parts of the island. Although I wouldn’t deny this, I was fortunate enough to not be a witness to any of this.
Although these types of situations are devastating, they are also eye opening. My yearlong exchange that I had so carefully planned was now gone. I had no idea what the school would even look like, let alone if classes would still be offered.
I learned to be grateful for the simple things I did have. With food, water, and shelter I was incredibly happy. I knew many people on the island may not have access to these resources. Rather than worrying about what tomorrow might look like, I took each day one day at a time. Working through challenges and celebrating the joys of everyday life.
When I had to leave, Maya and Jada nearly cried. They both hugged me, burying their faces into my stomach. I could only smile, knowing this wouldn’t be the end of the world. If anything this was a new beginning, I had a second family in St. Thomas.
Even after my short time here, I have no doubt in this community’s ability to rebuild. It may take time for things to return to what they once were, but I’ve been shown the people here truly care for each other. This love and light will shine even on the darkest of days, and St. Thomas, along with other islands across the Caribbean, will again be vibrant gems of the sea.