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8 By Melissa O’Garro M y very first emotion when I heard my island might be impacted by Hurricane Hugo, was one of disappointment. Disappointment because anyone that knows me well, knows that it may be unusual but I love storms. The torrential rains, the loud thunder and the energy from the lightning give me a special feeling of being close to nature. Against that background, imagine me sitting in Jamaica in 1989, more than a thousand miles away from my island home — Montserrat — when it was threatened by Hurricane Hugo. I was in Jamaica participating in a training programme at a small CARICOM institute in the hills, on the outskirts of Ocho Rios. There I was contemplating the fact that my home island was probably going to feel the impacts of a “glorious storm” and I was going to miss the experience! I spoke to my family at home the morning when the hurricane actually hit. That was September 17th, 1989. They were busy preparing for the impact of the storm. My sisters were packing up clothes and shoes, taking the knick-knacks off the space saver. They used garbage bags to cover anything they felt might get wet. My mother was busy baking up a storm as she normally did in those days and my dad was puttering around the yard moving smaller items that might be blown away. My sisters said the freezer was full of meat and the fridge full of food. In hindsight, we had absolutely no idea of exactly what a hurricane was or the damage and impact it would have on our lives for years to come. I feel confident in saying that no one expected a hurricane the strength and size of Hugo to sit over Montserrat for almost 12 hours. We all felt, as in previous hurricane warnings, that the storm would by-pass us and we would spend the following day walking or driving on the roads to see what damage was done and catch up on gossiping with friends. There had been no major hurricane impact in Montserrat since the 1950s. On September 18th I woke up to the news that Montserrat was virtually destroyed. The initial news reports I got in Jamaica were very vague but gave the impression that the island was totally decimated. All I felt was fear, my stomach turned to water as I sent up some quick prayers that my family and loved ones would remain safe. In those days, we did not have cell phones or WhatsApp and the only telephone access I had to home was through collect calls (reversed charges) from the training centre’s office using a telephone system that required dialing 10 numbers before actually putting in the numbers you required. My friend and colleague (the only other Montserratian in the programme) and I literally ran to the office, begging for access to the phones and started calling our home numbers. No answers! We called different numbers, No answers! I was scared out of mind; I felt as if I was really losing my mind, and I actually felt guilty about being upset that I was missing a big storm. Imagine being in Jamaica with absolutely no access to, or communication with, anyone at home and looking at all the devastation on the television news. Finally, my brother called me; he was also studying overseas in Toronto, Canada and was calling all the numbers he knew at home trying to get any information that he could. Believe it or not, he actually got through to one of his friends at home in Montserrat. His friend’s mother answered the phone screaming hysterically that everything was gone! She was unaware that their phone still worked despite the devastation and was caught off guard when she heard it ringing. My brother managed to calm her down. She was able to confirm that although the island was badly damaged, my relatives were all unharmed and safe. It’s difficult to put into words my terror when I could not contact anyone at home or the relief I felt just knowing they were safe. In the days and weeks that followed, as the telephone service was restored, I found out from my sisters about the absolute terror they endured, hiding in the closet for many hours as my mother prayed feverishly and my father just sat there! The stories they shared about looking outside and being able to see clearly from one side of our island to the next because all the trees that were left standing, were devoid of leaves. They spoke of my mother’s dismay when they looked across to my aunt’s house and saw them waving and she thought that only her house roof was destroyed without realising that the reason she could see them so clearly was because all of their windows were blown out. There were also stories about the food that had to be dumped; the lack of water and electricity, driving miles from home to a • Continues on next page

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