What is Lost in Disaster: The Aftermath of Hurricanes Maria and Irma in the Caribbean

by Kristen Sawyer – Kristen Sawyer is a teacher, writer and traveler currently based in Cuenca, Ecuador. She loves using words to capture moments. She works for National Geographic Student Expeditions as a trip leader, and writes for various sites, including the cultural community magazine La Revista Zero.

The fear has visited most of us before: If something were to happen to my home–a fire, a tornado, a hurricane, a flood–what would I take? What would I leave behind? And how would I rebuild my life?

It’s a question that one can stew over in the leisure of daily living. Natural disasters feel far away; a fire feels impossible, a flood feels removed. That is, until the threat arrives, banging at the door. And suddenly, everything changes. Even if a city or country is located in a disaster-prone area, like Hurricane or Tornado Alley, preparation cannot fully prevent disaster.

When Hurricane Harvey pummeled Texas, the geography, blocked drainage systems, and overdevelopment made Houston vulnerable. Fifty levees and floodwalls failed to protect New Orleans when Katrina arrived in 2005. When Hurricane Maria landed in Puerto Rico two months ago, it raged across the island; some reports claim it was the fifth most deadly storm to have ever hit the U.S. That type of natural power can’t be anticipated. When watching a natural disaster approach, there is only the long wait as the disaster is observed. Humans are reminded of their helplessness in the shifting course of nature.

From June until November, the Caribbean islands prepare for hurricane season, but the past few months have delivered more disasters than ever before. Hurricane Irma arrived on September 7th, Hurricane Maria on September 20th. A country can prepare for the worst—stock up on medical supplies, send out warnings to residents to evacuate, strengthen floodgates, request government assistance—but there’s only so much that can be done. When Hurricanes Maria and Irma sliced through the Caribbean, affecting the Virgin Islands, Puerto Rico, and the Dominican Republic, along with dozens of other islands, millions watched their lives change, instantly.

Hurricane Irma hit as a Category 5 storm. It charged through Barbuda, the Virgin Islands, Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. Though it didn’t cause as much damage as was feared in some islands, the reality of the damage inflicted cannot be understated. In the Dominican Republic, houses were toppled over, buildings ripped apart, flooding rose steadily. Over 5,000 people evacuated. In Puerto Rico, over 1 million Puerto Ricans lost power. In many ways, the damage that Hurricane Irma inflicted was the precursor of what was to come; it weakened systems and infrastructures that already weren’t terribly strong. The Caribbean islands were still recuperating when suddenly they were forced to survive another disaster.

When Hurricane Maria landed in Puerto Rico, 60,000 people still didn’t have power due to Irma. The storm raged through cities; it hit densely populated areas. Houses, buildings, lives were broken into pieces. Financially, the estimates range between $45 billion and $95 billion in damages to infrastructure and power grids. In the weeks that followed, most of the island remained without electricity. Even now, two months later, only 46.6% of the country has power. Without electricity, there is no power to pump water into homes, no water for bathing, no water for daily necessities. Water shortage has led to significant health concerns. One in ten Puerto Ricans still do not have potable water. The electricity shortages also affect the hospitals, which are running on generators. Communication is limited; telecommunication abilities and cell service are operating between 65% and 75%. Imagine not being able to call, text, or communicate with loved ones during this time. Death tolls have risen to 51, but estimates could be in the hundreds as difficulties continue. This is the reality on the island, today.

Puerto Rico is not the only island where people are suffering. The island of Barbuda was completely abandoned after Hurricane Irma. Twenty-seven people died on island of Dominica, which is off the coast of Puerto Rico. St. Martin, the U.S. Virgin Islands, and the British Virgin Islands were all affected by Irma, Maria, or both. The Dominican Republic, a country known as a popular tourist destination for Americans, continues to deal with the seemingly impossible task of rebuilding. Hurricane Maria left 38 communities abandoned. Over 20,000 were stranded, without power, displaced after the hurricane arrived. Organizations like World Vision responded quickly with 15,000 food packages and hygiene kits. The aftermath of a disaster must feel even more unreal than the hurricane itself. Lives were turned upside down. Loved ones were lost. And now, the survivors are faced with the daunting task, the only task that matters: rebuild.

The real effort with a natural disaster comes after, in sustained doses of generosity, assistance, and innovation. As of mid-October, more than 14,000 National Guard troops were in Puerto Rico to help, as were thousands of FEMA members. But Hurricane Maria essentially affected the entire island’s millions of inhabitants and specialists claim that 50,000 troops would be needed to make the necessary difference. There are private and public organizations rallying to raise funds and gather volunteers for support, but unfortunately, the momentum has slowed. For those not living in the aftermath of natural disaster, it feels like the danger is over. Many of us in the United States are immune to a reality without potable water, to a home flattened by winds and rain, to daily life depending on the generosity of others, to the decimation of a professional path. But for millions in the Caribbean, as well as in Florida and Texas, the real work of surviving is just beginning.

The pictures reveal this apocalyptic reality: business broken and closed, houses scattered like skeletons. The possessions of families—the photographs, the books, the crosses, the dresses, the heirlooms—were washed away in raging brown rivers. Throughout the islands, these possessions have been deposited, buried, and lost. Memories disappeared into the night. That question lingers for those looking on the disaster from afar: What would I have brought if I was living there? What would I have taken if I had had to flee? This question, and this reality, is what millions live today. As individuals, families, cities, governments and countries rebuild, uncertainty remains. It may be “safe” to return home, but what do survivors find waiting for them?

Help and support is still needed. That assistance can come in many ways: volunteering, donating, supporting organizations working on the ground on any of these islands. For those who continue to rebuild, they need to know that they are not alone, that they will continue to receive support, that they will have the chance to create new memories.