St Elizabeth, a rural parish on Jamaica’s south-western coast, has been left reeling in the aftermath of Hurricane Melissa, as residents confront scenes of devastation and begin the difficult task of recovery after one of the most powerful storms ever to strike the island.
As the catastrophic cyclone ripped through the parish, David Muschette, 84, ran barefoot through flying debris, unprecedented wind and rain, chasing safety after the roof of his modest home in Wilton district was violently ripped from its frame.
Four days later, he stood in what remains of his decades-old house, which the Category 5 storm reduced to rubble – roof gone, walls split, the bed he once slept on dragged outside to dry in the sun.
His neighbour, Pamela Heath, recalls the terrifying moment he appeared at her door.
“Mi see him a come barefoot up a mi yard… wet up!” she told Barbados TODAY, pointing towards the area where he had arrived. “So mi haffi take him up, hug him up and put him in the bathroom, change him clothes and give him some tea because him just a shake so. From the storm him deh ya at mi house.”
Heath said she was trembling herself that night, the wind roaring through the district, the rain battering the windows.
“Mi say: ‘David! Weh Blossom?’ — that’s his sister — mi almost get heart attack when mi nuh see her,” she explained, sharing that they later discovered the sister had sought refuge elsewhere.
She continued: “The place full a water. Him say when him a come, a tree limb drop and him haffi duck, and him no hear too good, so him couldn’t even tell when the next one a come.
Them lose everything… we just a try see what we can rescue to reuse but everything gone — everything.”
Heath further expressed gratitude that she was able to give assistance, even as she feared her own roof might be torn away.
“To keep it, we filled the roof with sandbags and tied it down. One time mi even call to the storm, mi say, ‘Leff it! Leff mi housetop!’ In the middle of the night my son went up with the hammer and the sandbag so it wouldn’t lift. We trembled like leaves, but thank God, we’re alive, that’s the best part.”
Asked why she helped, the Good Samaritan replied: “Mi can’t take fi see the sufferation. Mi care [about] and mi sorry fi dem. Mi can’t go bed and know dem out a door.”
“So mi get up this morning with a team fi fix up the back part of the house so dem can stay, and mi cook and carry food until family reach dem.”
But contact has proved impossible. Phone lines were down across much of the parish, poles snapped clean in two or uprooted. A Flow repair crew worked nearby as Heath spoke.
“The storm affect everybody. Everybody at dem yard a do what dem haffi do. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to live aJamaica inna dis ya storm. An’ mi nuh believe a Category 5 pass ya… a 10! Everything flat.”
Just a few lanes over in the Gilnock community, Carnel Williams and his partner, Keisha Granville, lamented the devastation.
The roof was gone, the beds soaked, clothes and kitchenware ruined. Williams’ eyes welled as he pointed to the splintered frame: “Storm mash up everything in we house, blow off we house-top, wet up we clothes. We nuh have no money to do anything. No food, nothing.”
“Me and me son hold on to one side of the roof during the hurricane so it wouldn’t blow off completely. The woman foot gone, so she couldn’t move.”
Granville, who lost a leg years ago, nodded from the doorway. “I couldn’t move ‘round; mi [have to] stay one place.
All now mi feel shaken up. Mi three grandchildren had to leave because dem all babies. Mi frustrated bad… can’t get no calls out, can’t hear nothing from dem,” she said, her voice breaking.
Their neighbour, Linoval Wright, stepped from his yard to check on them. His own house had lost its roof as well.
Wright said: “I just see when three sheets come off my house. The rest lift then come back down and mi say: ‘No Lord, this nuh good.’ After the rest blow off, mi and mi brother, whose own gone too, sleep inna the jeep.”
He lived through Hurricane Gilbert in 1988, but this one, he said, was worse: “Nothing like this… this one terrible.”
Asked what comes next, he chuckled and sighed. “Mi don’t know what fi tell yuh. We just a try help put on back mi brother roof. If we get some help, we’d be grateful.”
As Barbados TODAY travelled deeper into the parish, the damage stretched for miles, downed power lines tangled in thick red dirt, fields flattened, furniture dragged outside to dry. There was hardly a community untouched in the southwestern parish.
The Jamaican government has since announced the creation of a National Hurricane Relief Committee, co-chaired by ministers Desmond McKenzie and Daryl Vaz, to coordinate rebuilding efforts.
In Bridgetown, the government has already mobilised assistance, dispatching a humanitarian team and supplies to Jamaica as part of a regional relief effort.
A statement from the Ministry of Home Affairs confirmed that emergency personnel and equipment were sent to support clearing operations and medical outreach in affected parishes.
Prime Minister Mia Mottley described the move as a show of “Caribbean solidarity in action”, noting that what hits one island affects all. She pledged continued cooperation through the Caribbean Disaster Emergency Management Agency (CDEMA) as assessments unfold.
For now, though, most of the recovery work in places like Wilton district depends on neighbours like Pamela Heath, people with little themselves, giving what they can.
“Everybody lose something,” she said, watching the men lift another bedframe from the rubble. “But we still here.”
shannamoore@barbadostoday.bb
The post ‘Everything gone’: Hurricane Melissa leaves devastation in southern Jamaica appeared first on Barbados Today.
