Now that I have a set of wheels I can, for the first time, travel the island and see the devastation wrought by hurricane Irma and find it’s on an epic scale. Few buildings escaped damage, some simply no longer exist. The shock factor of the early days, when we woke to a changed world, has been replaced by one of creeping sadness. Not one person, one family, went untouched.
Life amidst the wreckage goes on. Last Sunday dawned cool and fresh, and at 6.30 the waning Harvest Moon was high in an azure sky. I still see the beauty in these things though sadly they’re diminished when your gaze falls back to earth and you take in the smell, the millions of flies, the mosquitoes, the uneasy feeling of a population facing a bleak future of mass unemployment. We try to stay positive, to spin events so that they don’t invade our subconscious, but there are days, perhaps like today, when it is difficult.
For the first few weeks following the storm people oozed confidence. “We are strong, we will rebuild,” was the rallying cry and a feeling of optimism prevailed. Now, reality is beginning to sink in and with it the knowledge that thousands face an uncertain future with the locals taking the brunt.
The authorities on both sides of the island are working diligently to return things to normal, whatever normal will mean in the months ahead.
Hundreds of tons of scrap and debris have been removed, trucked to temporary sites and piled five stories high. Around our own apartment block, teams of workers have scoured the debris from the gardens, hauled zinc from the bottom of the swimming pool and carved up the trunks of once magnificent trees that lay dead along the ground.
We have water 12 hours a day, the electricity supply is stable, some supermarkets are open and there’s plenty of food for those with funds to buy it. On the French side families in need are still receiving aid, something that is vital if authorities are to avoid civil unrest.
The island has been knocked on its ass and, like a punch drunk boxer, is staggering to its feet. As we become yesterday’s news and the expat community considers fight or flight, those most severely affected have it within their power to make or break the recovery.
We live in hope.
— French St. Martin, October 8 2017