I think rain on your wedding day is good luck,” I mused, as the first drops began to fall on my friend’s nuptials in Jamaica. Little did I know, this was the harbinger of Hurricane Melissa, the strongest storm on record to hit the island, according to the National Hurricane Center. The celebration was a beautiful collision of joy and impending doom, with staff boarding up windows as we danced, a cinematic image of celebration colliding with fear.
We arrived in Jamaica, exhausted but eager to celebrate. The poolside relaxation and the wedding festivities were a brief respite from the storm brewing unbeknownst to us. The whispers of a storm at the airport seemed distant, almost irrelevant, as we immersed ourselves in the island’s warmth. But soon, the urgency of rebooking flights amidst cancellations became a stark reality, a prelude to the chaos that was about to unfold.
I still know people who are waiting for flights out of Jamaica back to the States. Airfare prices have been astronomical, and per the U.S. Embassy, hotels and resorts were well within their right to continue to charge people for their stay.
By Tuesday, Melissa was in full force. The wind howled against the windows, a relentless reminder of nature’s power. Palm trees bent to their sides, shingles flew from rooftops, and debris littered the resort. The mood among guests was pure confusion; we felt stuck, isolated from the world. The bride and groom, once radiant with joy, now wore expressions of concern and apology. The hotel lobby became a scene of distress, as one woman fainted at the front desk upon learning of the ongoing hotel charges despite the storm and the fact that there was no way out.
As a frequent visitor to Jamaica, the island always felt like a home away from home. But this time, the sense of belonging was tinged with helplessness. Hotel staff, who were as in much shock as the guest — if not more, still worked diligently, despite the concerns they may have had of their loved ones at home. When my husband and I asked about their families, they responded that they had no contact since the Wi-Fi went out.
It was a stark contrast to our relative safety and access to food, a privilege that weighed heavily on us. Rohan, our gracious yet conveniently expensive driver from West Moreland, Jamaica, who took us to Kingston from Lucea, Hanover, remarked, “We will spend lots of time trying to get back to what it was,” capturing the daunting task of recovery ahead for the island.
In the aftermath, I grappled with gratitude and guilt. I had failed to check the world’s temperature, to anticipate the storm’s severity. Yet, I was safe, while others faced uncertainty and loss. This experience was a humbling reminder of our vulnerability and the importance of preparedness.
As we navigate the aftermath of Hurricane Melissa, it is crucial that we not forget those affected. In living through history, I was reminded of our shared humanity and the resilience of those who face nature’s wrath with courage and grace.
Consider supporting the work of organizations such as CARE or the Red Cross and local Jamaican relief efforts, that are providing aid to those in need to help rebuild and restore the communities impacted by this historic storm.