Hurricane Rafael in a Havana Apartment
By Laura Gomez
HAVANA TIMES – Facing the arrival of a hurricane in Havana is no joke, especially when the housing infrastructure is increasingly deteriorated. On November 6-7, Hurricane Rafael brought hurricane-force winds to the municipality of Marianao, causing serious damage to the electrical grid and water supply. Maida Carrillo, 65, experienced very difficult moments in her apartment.
How did you take the news that the forecast issued by the meteorology institute was accurate?
At first, I thought there might be a change in the track and that the winds wouldn’t hit us so hard. I’ve been through all kinds of weather events alone in my home and have never felt afraid. When the alert was issued for the municipalities of La Lisa, Marianao, and Playa, I started putting wooden bars on the windows and doors. I wasn’t afraid at that moment and preferred to stay calm.
It’s impossible to mentally stop a hurricane, but you can take every measure possible. I filled up water containers, stored my usual wall decorations in the wardrobe, charged the lamps, and cooked. A friend suggested I go to her house, but that was a risk —how was I going to take care of my belongings? Besides, I knew the hurricane would enter through an area in Artemisa, not Havana.
Did you feel scared when the winds started?
Yes, the gusts were 120 km/h with sustained winds of 80 km/h, and since it was entering through Artemisa, the neighboring municipalities of Havana were bound to be affected. By four in the afternoon, the sky turned gray, and the atmosphere was terrifying. The rain started coming through every crack in the shutters as if it were being pushed, along with the fury of the gusts. The roofs and garage doors sounded like gunshots, and some of the zinc sheets on the roofs clanged like bombs as they fell. In the distance, I could hear screams, crying, and objects moving on the roof. I had to move the TV and the furniture, pull the bed away from the wall. The water was pouring in uncontrollably. I was very scared.
Did you shelter in any part of the house?
I closed the bedroom doors and put a chair in the bathroom. Even so, I could feel the wind under the doors. I prayed and asked God to protect me. If any window broke, it would be a catastrophe. I’d heard you shouldn’t seal the house completely to let the air circulate, but I remember my basic physics studies and realize that’s not the case —in that way, more wind enters, and the effect can be disastrous. I stayed in the bathroom until eight at night. By then, it was all over, and I was still alive, my home safe. Many people weren’t as lucky.
I’ve seen images of fallen power poles, transformers, and trees in the streets. Did the same thing happen in Marianao?
Yes, I don’t know how the buildings withstood that impact. There’s a ceiba tree on the corner of my block that was uprooted and, in falling, took down the electrical lines. That ceiba was a heritage tree. The transformers were split in half, and the cables were tangled in the tree’s branches; others were scattered in pieces along the sidewalk. It was sad to see not only the scene but also the expressions on all our faces. I heard from neighbors that in some neighborhoods, people had stolen the electrical cables and the oil from the transformers.
How many days were you without power?
Five days. I had the foresight to put some bottles of water in the freezer to keep the food frozen, but by the fourth day, I had to cook some of it. I gave the leftovers to a neighbor. I don’t know how mothers with children, the elderly, and the sick managed. The lamp batteries died, and I spent the nights in the dark. A tree branch broke the main water pipe, preventing water from reaching the cistern. I was very thirsty and barely bathed. When the forestry brigade arrived, they spent several days cutting the tree, and on the fifth day, the Electrical and Water Companies of Havana did a marathon job.
Do you think you could withstand another event of this magnitude in your home? It seems another cyclone is forming near Cuba.
I don’t think so. Next time, I’ll close the house and leave. Not only because of the fear of something happening to me but also because the wooden shutters are in terrible condition, and the door frames are broken. Sooner or later, those shutters will break off, and I don’t want to be there to see it. I don’t even have the pills I take for my blood pressure, so it’s better if I leave if another cyclone comes.
I’ve thought about swapping for a smaller apartment as an option. Millions of people are still struggling with wedges in their windows to keep them from blowing open, fighting termites; or, those who have managed to install glass, trying to protect it without resources and without hope. Life is indeed precious, but in Cuba, if you lose what little you have, you won’t get it back, especially not at my age. I’ve seen posts on social media about hurricanes in other countries, and nothing compares to Cuba. For us, it’s just a matter of praying to God not to abandon us.