GUSTAV WAS THE REAL DEAL- RIGHT JAMAICA?

- Patrica Taylor

Maybe more than half of the people living here didn’t think he was actually coming. I certainly didn’t. God Himself had saved us from His wrath too many times before and I guess we all just thought that He would spare us again.

The tropical storm was headed in a north-westerly directly, straight on the path to a more developed Caribbean country, one that could more easily recover from such a disaster. Out of nowhere the damned thing decided to take a turn in direction towards our little island. God knows that many couldn’t handle such a disaster. Too many people were living in poverty. Too many mouths were there for families across the island to feed. Too many children were there to send back to school at the beginning of a new school year. Certainly, there was not enough money to be earned by lower class citizens who barely had enough money to survive for a week, much less to prepare for a hurricane. As shelter houses for those living in flood prone areas and those who had no secure homes were being set up across the island, many felt fearful and hopeless as he made his way slowly towards our lands.

On the night of the hurricane, I could be found sleeping away in my bed. I was quite comfortable in fact. I had little worry and care. I was oblivious to the desperation and worries of other less privileged citizens who I came to find out about later in the news. So there I was, very convinced that like most of the others, this hurricane was going to barely affect our lands. After all, Ivan and Dean did some damage in previous years but most people had already recovered from those by now. Jamaicans always found a way to recover, whether it was by the help of relatives living abroad, some kind contributor like Susan Simes (“Susan”) for example, or by the most called on Prime Minister. God too, was a merciful God who had proven Himself to this country on many occasions before. As I slept there in my warm bed, I couldn’t help but overhear the different conversations in my living room. Apparently the parents were up and there were, in discussion, some recollections of Hurricane Gilbert of 1988. This hurricane had occurred a year before I was born. I had heard of many stories, especially those told by my father, about roofs being lifted off and houses suffering from the damage caused by its strong winds. Naturally though, my inquisitive person kicked in and I decided to get up to hear more about what was being said. Furthermore it was dinner time and it was not a bad idea to make good use of a cool refreshing drink, which could be the last for quite a while. As we sat there for about two hours discussing all sorts of things, I recall speaking of how much I had wanted Hurricane Ivan to come two years before. It would have been, at the time, my first experience of a hurricane and I had always wanted a firsthand experience. I remembered my cousin, Kellie, staying at my house and how excited we were the night before Ivan struck. This excitement was short-lived of course, as we realized that we had no form of entertainment for too long, neither from the television nor from the Internet. How we lamented when we realized that after the hurricane all we could do was play board games (in the daylight), listen to the battery-powered radio for a short while, then have dinner and go to our beds!

We had celebrated the brilliant performance of our athletes at the Olympics in Beijing, China just a week prior to the intervention of what was to be one of the worst disasters known to man here in Jamaica. Usain Bolt was the fastest man in the world. The performances of Asafa Powell, Melaine Walker, Michael Frater, Shelly-Ann Fraser, Veronica Campbell-Brown, Kerron Stewart and Sherone Simpson were pretty impressive too. How they got the Jamaican people excited! The crime rate had even dropped that week. Nobody had time to kill. Everybody was in high spirits and in anticipation of great things from our athletes. Our athletes brought fame to our island from their impressive performance at the events and they made us all proud. Many were still celebrating their wonderful victory even as he mercilessly approached. Maybe it was just that luck had no intentions of hitting the same spot twice. Gustav was definitely approaching us, slowly but surely. I could never figure out why most of the hurricanes that I had heard of came during the night. Surely it was harder to see what was taking place outside our windows in the dark. As we heard the winds howling, the rain pouring and the trees clashing that night, we could only imagine what was going on out there. I thought of my baby brother, Matthew and how he must have been terrified by the new sounds outside, but then I realized that he was safely sleeping in his warm cot. I eventually went back to bed when the electricity went. There was no point in me staying up if the electricity went. After all, what would be left there to do?

That morning never caught anyone in the house sleeping for long. We were all so anxious to see the ruins. I had realized that no one in my community really prepared their houses for the hurricane. Nobody had put up ply boards across their windows. The main preparation that Dad did was to channel the flow of water in the backyard. From what I could see and what I heard from Dad, who always knew everything, there were no major damages in my community. A small landslide had occurred behind my neighbour’s (Rickardo) room window and little flooding in his mother’s (Winsome) kitchen. However Daddy and Jeremy had already cleared most of it during the night just after the power went. They had worked really hard though. It was very dark and it took a lot to clear mud and a large pool of water that had settled by the doorway, especially with two shovels and loads of newspaper as tools. Further down the road, Miss Icy’s yard was filled with mud which came from the hills and Miss Patsy’s wall had broken away. Everybody else was fine, I guess. The Hope River had greatly overflowed its banks, widening the channel. The huge river stones could no longer be seen and the brown water raced rapidly downwards the course.

From our living room window, the following morning, Matthew and I could see crowds of people making their way up and down the street. It was tradition to do a walk after any major disaster, especially in the hilly Gordon Town area which was prone to landslides. Many had come from the hills which, as we found out later was cut off from the rest of Gordon Town and beyond, at least for a while. With a bit of anticipation mixed with fear, we got dressed and made our way towards the main road which led to the square of the little town. It was Daddy, Rickardo, Jeremy and I who started on this journey. Mother had to stay with the baby, of course and Winsome never went anywhere.

Jamaica was known as the land of wood and water and water was flowing in springs from virtually everywhere. I found out that morning that water had a way of showing up even in uninvited places such as in the villagers’ backyards. Water was flowing in places where it hasn’t in years and in places where it has never flowed before. As we walked the streets it was obvious that Gustav was wicked to many. Along the way, we heard many accounts of what could be seen further up the road in the square before we even went there. Old folks were saying that the hurricane of 1951 was not as bad as this one. Most of the young folks seemed just as surprised as I was on seeing the damage that was done. When water mixes with dirt it forms mud. The mud was horrible. It was rich in colour and texture in some places, soft in others and thick in others. There was no doubt; however, that it stained clothes regardless of its location. It was obvious that no cars would be able to pass along the main road for quite a while now that the roads were filled with all sorts of obstacles. From piles of mud to the garbage which found its way from the hills through channels of gullies, it was unsightly. Old or new refrigerators, gas cylinders, shoes, umbrellas, radios, poles and other items were just a few of the many items that could be seen washing down these streams. It depended on the size of the stream really. The houses which lined the Hope River were virtually no longer in existence. The river had overflowed its banks, making its way through these houses, even though it was not welcome there. It had brought with it loads of garbage and mud which crept in the houses too, damaging furniture, appliances and the structure of the houses.

As we continued our journey towards the square where the worst damage could be seen, we met all sort of friends, acquaintances and family members. Most said that they were alright for the most part. We could not ignore, however the plights that others found themselves in. Nevertheless, it was a fact that all those who were walking were in pursuit of different motifs. Some genuinely wanted to see the damage. Others probably wanted to help out others with whom they were acquainted. There was no doubt in my mind, however, that some were there to see what they can get, whether by begging or stealing.

It was all round chaos in Gordon Town Square. The Cut Throat Gully which extended from the hilly terrain towards the Hope River did the residents no favour. Instead of containing all the sediments that flowed in its channel, it spat out some, well a whole lot. This was evident in the road that ran past the police station where piles of mud had escaped and settled in the centre of the main road. The intersection, which had roads leading to Penfield District, Jackfruit Tree and Cameron Hill and to Dublin Castle, Mavis Bank, Content District and the Blue Mountains, was no longer in existence. The cars that parked along the road were not as safe as their owners had thought before Gustav put in his arrival. By now they were either lined across the road on top of the piles of mud that Cut Throat Gully deposited or on their way beyond the fence which separated the road from the river. A few cars had made their way (without their engine being fired up) beyond this fence throughout the night, much to the dismay of their owners and onlookers. We all found that morning that water was a very powerful thing, especially when it was being influenced by the sloping lands down which it ran. The houses which lined the gully were also adversely affected. It spared none of the residents’ furniture neither did it spare lives further up the hill. We had heard of two bodies which had at this point already been washed away in the night. There was no news yet on whether or not they found these bodies, however, it was no doubt that Cut Throat was to be blamed.

As we made our way further towards the hills where most of my relatives lived, we saw all sorts of saddening scenes. We had to walk the long way because of the blocked roads. I recall having fun though. I had to jump a wall, like Daddy and Rickardo, to avoid a longer route. At one point we stopped to pick guineps, well daddy and Rickardo did. I just caught them and ate. The journey to Grandma’s house was more than a walk in the park and we wanted to return home before nightfall. We walked through mountains of mud, grime and filth. Notwithstanding this, we reached up there relatively quick. Sandy, Grandma and Gramps were totally fine. They suffered no damage. Further around though, we found that a couple of my aunts got flooded out. Marcia’s was the worst. A huge landslide behind her house had forced her and her family to move over to Aunt Tracy nearby. Aunt Dimple and family had moved over to Aunt Shernette’s house. We tried to help out as much as we could before taking another route home. This route was longer of course. The better thing about it, though, was that this was the main road so most of its transition was smoother. There were many landslides along Coffee Walk Road. I recall sinking in the damned mud. Daddy got frustrated of course, because I was slowing down the pace and Rickardo found it so amusing that I kept sinking in the soft mud. We did get home in the night even though Daddy detested that idea. We were grateful though because while we went home to a home cooked meal we knew that many did no have a home to go home to, much less a meal.

It was, all in all, a wakeup call for many. Most found that they were reminded that God is all powerful, yet merciful. Many encountered a test of faith and may have even been left hopeless. Many learnt to appreciate their friends, families and neighbours more than they did before. These people were, to them a tower of strength at some point before, during or after Gustavs passing. This was an experience to remember, one to tell our kids Xav. Hurricanes are not the best of natural disasters. It causes too much damage, heart aches and pain. They cause distress, especially when you see your distant neighbours with electricity and you cannot see yours reconnecting. I hope to God that everyone has and if not, they will recover from the horrible loss they encountered. I pray knowing that once there is life there is hope. Hurricanes are inevitable. Preparation is the key to ensuring that the experience of one isn’t too bad.