DESPERATE FOR HELP
Puerto Rico reeling in the aftermath of hurricane Maria,
JUNCOS, PUERTO RICO— In the heat and humidity here in the central mountains, Meryanne Aldea fanned her bedridden mother with a piece of cardboard Sunday as the ailing woman laid on her side, relieving a large ulcer in her back.
The 63-year-old mother, Maria Dolores Hernandez, had cotton stuffed in her ears to keep flies out, since her now screenless windows were letting all sorts of bugs in. The grayhaired diabetic woman spoke with her daughter about her worries: that she would run out of prescription drugs, that they were almost out of generator fuel to keep her insulin refrigerated and to run the fans at night. With all the heat, she feared her ulcer would become infected.
But she worried most about her daughter’s home on the floor above hers, which was destroyed by Hurricane Maria. The shrieking winds had ripped off the zinc roof and the pounding rains had soaked the unprotected rooms below. While the outer cement walls were mostly intact, everything else was ruined, covered by dirty tree branches, leaves, glass and debris. Aldea reached out to hold her mother’s hand. “Relax,” she said. “It’s OK.”
Days after a major hurricane battered Puerto Rico, leaving the island in a communications and power blackout, regions outside of San Juan remained completely disconnected from the rest of the island — and the world. Juncos, in a mountainous region southeast of the capital that was slammed with Maria’s most powerful winds, remains isolated.
For many residents, the challenge of accessing the essentials of modern life — gasoline, cash, food, water — began to sink in. And officials had no answers for them. Estimates for the return of electricity and basic services will be measured not in days, but in weeks and months.
Many have been openly wondering when help will arrive, whether from local officials or from the federal government. The first thing some villagers ask when they see outsiders is: “Are you FEMA?” For federal agencies trying to respond to Maria, the situation in Puerto Rico and the U.S. Virgin Islands is inescapably more challenging than the situations in Texas and Florida. It’s difficult to get into the islands as the airports and harbours are severely damaged.
Federal agencies have succeeded in clearing the use of the Port of San Juan for daytime operations, but other ports remain closed pending inspections. Many roads are blocked, inhibiting relief convoys. Six commercial cargo ships have delivered supplies including food, water and generators to the Caribbean islands, and more supplies are on the way by ship from Florida and by air from Florida and Kentucky.
In addition to basic survival concerns, on the west side of the island, worries have intensified about a ruptured dam that has been holding back the waters of Lake Guajataca. Government officials said Sunday that the “fissure” in the dam is “large and will collapse at any time.” Throngs of residents in nearby towns have been urged to evacuate.
In Juncos, scores of homes were destroyed, and thousands sustained damage, Mayor Alfredo Alejandro estimated. Four highways are inaccessible by car, and two bridges were harmed.
Mountains typically brimming with trees and other vegetation are brown and desolate, stripped of all greenery. Puerto Rico’s executive director of emergency management said that aerial views of destruction in this region looked “more like a tornado than a hurricane.”
But Maria’s destruction in the town was just the beginning. The mayor said Juncos “anxiously” needs diesel, water, hospital equipment and satellite phones for local leadership. Some local responders were forced to clear streets by hand with machetes, because the town doesn’t have enough chain saws. Just two gas stations were functioning in the town, and lines stretched for more than half a mile. Some drivers camped out in their cars at one station on Saturday night, but awoke Sunday to find out the gasoline there had run out, one resident said.
When Aldea, 37, and her 5-year-old daughter walked through her shell of a home in Juncos after the hurricane had passed, the child hardly said a word. She scoured her pink room, with pony stickers on its walls, and picked out a couple of soaked dolls and colouring books.
“We don’t have a house anymore,” Aldea explained to her daughter. “We’re going to have to start new with what we have.”