“Gilbert”

One of the stark contrasts of living in the USA vs Jamaica is the frequency in which US residents update and change the appearance of their living quarters. The reasons for the change and update vary from wealth, more available options and accessibility to personal desire, to name a few. The one reason however that is without a doubt a hindrance to flexibility to change is the material required for building infrastructure in Jamaica, steel, gravel, sand and cement vs Sheetrock in the States. Thus, updates in Jamaica are not determined by the latest trends or HGTV weekend binge, but by age and hurricanes. Yes, we build for need and durability, and when we’re done there is the option of allowing the imagination to run wild with choice of color. And that we do. 

Jamaica has seen its share of devastation and more specifically, devastation caused by hurricanes. The one that stands out by far as foremost in memory and also due to the loss experienced for many Jamaicans, is hurricane “Gilbert.” I overheard a Gen Z man say, “I wasn’t born at that time, but after hearing how my parents speak of it, I feel like I lived it.” Gilbert is the uncle you didn’t ask for, but it’s yours and you’re going to have to deal with it the best way you know how. Hurricane Gilbert is one of my oldest, darkest and yet most kind memories. I was five at the time and I don’t remember the days, but I remember how the time felt; dark, cold, wet and eerie. I faintly remember an odd orange glow that smothered our home (might have been the huddle of my sisters and I that we found comfort and protection in to weather the storm) as the howling winds entertained us throughout the nights. The winds were endless, so much so that we lost our kitchen roof. Who didn’t? There was weeks/months of debris everywhere. And some “temporary” makeshift zinc coverings lasted far beyond its shelf life. 

Not counting the “bully beef,” it so happens that I’d already experienced a whole plant-based diet before today. No electricity meant, no meat or perishables for months. And when the “light” did return, it was somewhat anticlimactic. Maybe because it happened in waves; if your community didn’t have its electricity restored, the neighboring community did and we would share access until we were all back on the grid. Or, because we had all become accustomed to the oil smoke ring marks on our ceilings, the pans, screams and footsteps running towards the water delivery trucks. Life had become routine. 

Recovery doesn’t end after one bad hurricane; we’re still mentally recovering and it shows in how we build. To be an adult realizing the sheer magnitude of danger faced and sacrifice it took to survive Gilbert — a Category 5 storm with its 40 mile radius eye covering the island — fills me with pride and great strength. Much of it resembles our lives during the COVID-19 pandemic. As we build the foundations of our future, we should never forget to hug our loved ones closely each night.