In Puerto Rico, everything is broken except our spirit
over cargo ships queuing in the shipping lanes into San Juan. The north side of the island, usually lush green, was now a dull brown of bald, broken and felled trees. Every so often, a destroyed house joined the landscape, once prized possessions scattered like dandelion seeds.
During our time in Puerto Rico, we found joy and happiness but also sorrow and desperation. We saw neighbors, friends and strangers helping each other. A driver slowed down and reached out of her car to give a police officer directing traffic a bottle of cold water. Neighbors cooked for the elderly, and children climbed stairs of the twin 17-story housing co-op buildings in Trujillo Alto to bring them the lovingly prepared hot meals and take down their garbage.
An airline pilot who temporarily relocated his family to Orlando stuffed food, batteries and water filters into an overweight pink suitcase to take to his grandmother, who refused to leave her home, and his friends.
People wielding umbrellas to block the hot sun waited in line for hours everywhere: stores, banks, gas stations and especially anywhere that had ice. Stores only let small groups in to avoid a Black Friday-style stampede. But no one was running to grab the door-buster big-screen TV; most sought after were food and the elusive “D” batteries to power portable fans and lanterns, and maybe a little treat for the kids.
More than two weeks after the category 4 hurricane plowed into Puerto Rico, about 88 percent of the island is still without power and only about 55 percent have water. And getting a reliable cell signal is still difficult. When we saw drivers on the side of the road in idling vehicles, we knew there was a cell signal.
Sleep was difficult as I sweat miserably in bed, my little battery-powered fan no match for the sweltering heat. The sound of power generators created a cacophony of noise that reverberated in my ears. Urban camping lost its charm rather quickly.
Some have a working generator with enough diesel to last through the night, so a big fan could cool the room. Others are lucky to have a generator powerful enough to run the A/C. The luckiest got their power back.
Despite the hardships, there was still laughter — and hope. A sign at a home in Rio Grande stated “Screw you Maria. Keep calm - Puerto Rico will prevail.” A graffiti artist wrote along the Las Americas expressway:
Puerto Rican flags were draped on highway overpasses.
Our short time on the island quickly came to an end, and when we got to the airport there were families hugging and saying their goodbyes. Children were crying. Some were leaving for a short while, until things get a little bit better. Others are uncertain if they will ever return.
I struggle to find the words to adequately describe what I saw and experienced last week. We told so many stories, but we only scratched the surface. There are so many other stories there that need to be told. In Puerto Rico, everywhere you look things are broken — but not the people and definitely not our spirit.