Surviving Hurricane Rafael
HAVANA TIMES – Behind us, the door we rigged up continued vibrating, as if to reaffirm that it wasn’t over yet; there was still the wait, the exact second in which everything could get worse.
Seated on the floor of the narrow passageway that was left after relocating all our belongings, Dariel’s legs trembled on top of mine. Outside the wind howled like a wolf prepared to devour the little that was left to us.
This can’t be happening. We didn’t just escape one, only to get hit by another. Baby, if you hadn’t been with me, I don’t know what I would have done…”
His words abruptly broke off, and I sensed him fighting down the knot in his throat. At that moment, I too was waging a personal battle against the tears. The vacuum in my stomach was a black hole, but with my trembling hands I pressed him close, returning that embrace that had knocked me out of my trance, when my mouth only repeated the words: “it’s all in vain.”
Dariel is a strong man who’s pulled himself out of the mud many times. At thirty-six, he’s lived through so many things that he’s become a true survivor. Nonetheless, there are situations that require additional support, and I’m happy to be a pillar for him – as he is for me – so that both of us are sustained enough to face the adversities.
Hours before the hurricane winds of Rafael swept over our roof, we were running around like “crazy ants,” trying to secure everything. But it wasn’t enough.
The roof of our house is composed of long fiber cement panels, more-or-less seven meters in length. When we heard a strange noise over our heads, we discovered that the panel over the bathroom was coming loose. We went into full alert.
I was paralyzed. My husband took my hand, led me to a large chair in the living room and handed me a flashlight. “Give me some light and call your mother to find out how they are. Ask your brother where the hurricane is heading.”
Having lost our internet connection, we’d also lost track of the weather system. While I attempted to communicate with my family, Dariel began moving our things from the bedroom into the living room and the kitchen.
I didn’t tell my loved ones that this might be the last time we’d speak; nor did I remark that I was sitting uselessly in a chair, while my husband moved things out of their places under a roof that trembled, in an attempt to save our belongings.
Instead of this, I simply rejoiced at the sound of my daughter’s voice, in my mother’s laugh, in the consoling words of my brother. All that gave me the strength to leave the chair and help Dariel.
However, just as I got to the bedroom door, the roof began to vibrate with more force. Dariel was in the bathroom right then. I don’t remember exactly what happened next; I only know that I saw him and called to him, then, suddenly, the roof collapsed.
I have no idea how he appeared at my side, and I don’t remember either where I was when it all fell down. “Come on, move! We have to get the mattress out before it gets wet.”
Those words spurred me into action. We got the clothes out of the closet, along with everything left in the room that wasn’t buried in the rubble.
Perhaps the most sensible thing would have been to leave everything where it was and not risk getting hurt if the force of the wind caused some pieces of the beams to fall. But in such a situation, you don’t think clearly, and it was essential for us to save the little we had left.
We managed to get everything out and prop the bed like a door, separating off the half of the house that was still standing and served to shelter us.
“This makes no sense, no sense”, I kept repeating while I stuffed everything that shouldn’t get wet into plastic bags.
Right then, the calm of the hurricane’s eye arrived. The wind changed position and intensity, freeing us from fears that the other piece of the roof could also fall apart.
Yes, we were safe, but now we face another difficult task – reconstructing a home in a country without resources. A country where it’s easier to obtain a yacht and go for a cruise in the Caribbean than build a house.
Without the aid of some family member outside the country, everything is more difficult still, although a compassionate friend has already appeared to offer support. It’s not enough, but it’s something, and we’re grateful.
I know we’ll somehow pull out of this, that you have to keep going forward, you have to survive. In that, Dariel and I are experts.
Read more from the diary of Fabiana del Valle here on Havana Times.