Hurricane Melissa Devastates Jamaica: My Firsthand Story of Survival

I remember the roar of the wind outside my window, a sound so fierce it felt like the world was tearing itself apart. Right now, we are all in total confusion. Hurricane Melissa hit us with such power and force that I am not sure when we will ever get back to normal. We have no power, no internet, and no water. It is just so hard and extremely difficult. We only had prayers that we’d make it through the storm.

It was just such a scary sight. Everyone that I know who had a board and zinc roof, they’re all gone now. Just imagine you are in your home, watching and praying that you are surviving the hurricane, and then you look next door. You see your neighbour's roof peeling off, sheet by sheet, like it's nothing. Just knowing that you are next, that your home could be the one to disintegrate before your very eyes, is a terror I can't properly describe. What I am very happy about, the one small mercy in all this chaos, is that the hurricane did not take on its full force during the night. If it had, I am certain a lot more lives would have been lost. The parishes of St. Elizabeth and Westmoreland were hit the worst, but the entire island felt Melissa's wrath. If you are not out there picking up the scattered pieces of your roof and home from your neighbour’s yard, you are cutting trees out of your own. The landscape of our lives has been violently redrawn.

On the morning after the hurricane, we were all just so happy to be alive. That was the first feeling, a profound and overwhelming sense of relief. Where we were, there was no flooding, and for that, I thank God. But the devastation was everywhere else. You see some nice houses, the ones you believed were safe and secure, and their roofs are gone too. It didn’t matter how well you built; the storm took what it wanted. I went on the roads early, right after Hurricane Melissa had passed, and I was so surprised to see the place. It was unrecognizable. Everyone that I knew had no roof. They can't find their zinc; it was just total confusion.

The landscape was a graveyard of what used to be. The shops had no roofs, the bars were exposed to the sky, and even the go-go club was unrecognizable. All that was left of it were the bed frames, stark and skeletal against the gray morning light. When you walk and look where houses used to be, there is nothing but a concrete slab in some places. The roofs are gone, or the entire building was blown away, leaving just the concrete flooring as a tombstone for a home that once stood. It’s a scene of utter desolation, a testament to the brutal force we just endured.

The question on everyone's lips is, when will Jamaica get back to normal? It feels like an impossible task. We really and truly need help. Some people have gotten aid already, and we are very thankful and grateful for that. It’s a small glimmer of hope in this overwhelming darkness. I have heard where people are starting to give blood, too, and that is great because the hospitals need it. The morning after the hurricane, you can just imagine the damage. The roofs of the hotels, the call centers, the hospitals, they are all gone. These were the pillars of our communities, and now they are just as broken as our homes.

People are now worried about their jobs, about where they are going to sleep and what they are going to eat. The immediate terror of the storm has passed, but now the long, slow terror of survival begins. Right now, I am not working. I have no light or internet access, so the world feels very far away. We are disconnected, isolated in our shared struggle.

There are people who have generators, and solar systems, along with Starlink internet. They are now using this opportunity to make money from our misfortune. Cold beverages cost more now, a simple luxury that feels like a lifeline. They are charging you to charge your phone and other devices, capitalizing on our desperation to connect with loved ones and the outside world. We just can't afford it. The question echoes again: when will we be getting back power? We are literally dying here. Right now, I am so thirsty I need a glass of cold water, something so simple that I once took for granted. Without power, we won't be getting any water, because the water pumps need electricity to work.

What we need now are solar systems. We need to start investing in them, to build a future where we are not so vulnerable, so dependent on a fragile system. We need to rebuild, not just our homes, but our infrastructure, our resilience. The wind has stopped roaring, but the silence that follows is just as frightening. It’s the silence of uncertainty, of a long road ahead. But we are alive, and for now, that has to be enough. We will pick up the pieces, we will help our neighbours, and we will find a way to make it through, because that is what we do. We survive.