Maria’s smallest victims
In Puerto Rico: The mental health of children on the island is a growing concern in the storm’s aftermath.
OROCOVIS, Puerto Rico – Children in this mountain hamlet have seen roofs blown off their homes, endured weeks of cold dinners and hot nights and witnessed loved ones die in their living rooms.
Seven weeks after Hurricane Maria roared through Orocovis on its deadly path through Puerto Rico, leaders fear the psychological effects of the storm on children will be long-lasting and hard to erase.
“Many of them don’t yet understand the impact,” Orocovis Mayor Jesús Colón Berlingeri said. “They don’t understand why their house doesn’t have water, why their house doesn’t have power, why it no longer has a roof.
“They need help.”
Mental health is a growing concern as Puerto Rico struggles to recover from the storms. Maria, which landed here Sept. 20, was the most devastating storm to hit the island in 70 years, killing more than 50 people, displacing thousands and upending the lives of Puerto Rico’s 3.4 million inhabitants.
Children who experience destructive storms are often the most vulnerable to long-term mental health problems, said Irwin Redlener, head of the National Center for Disaster Preparedness at Columbia University’s Mailman School of Public Health and president of the Children’s Health Fund.
A study Redlener led after Hurricane Katrina found that one-third of children in that disaster reported at least one mental health problem, but fewer than half of their parents were able to access professional services.
Maria may do even more psychological damage, since the storm affected virtually the entire island and many families have been so busy securing basic needs, such as food and water, that children’s needs may be overlooked, Redlener said. Most schools have been closed since the hurricane hit, though some are likely to reopen this week, returning normalcy to youngsters’ lives.
The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services and local groups such as the Ponce Health Sciences University deployed some mental health services around the island, though much more is probably needed, Redlener said.
“There’s going to be a mismatch of resources and need,” he said.
In Orocovis, a remote mountain town that federal aid is slow to reach, educators accepted an offer from Connecticut-based Save the Children to launch a temporary child care facility in a shuttered Catholic school.
Eugenio Soto, an educator and program coordinator, said 154 children ages 4 to 15 signed up and spent each morning, 8 a.m. to noon, the past two weeks surrounded by teachers, social workers and other students.
At first, the students were withdrawn and kept to themselves, he said. “It’s like they had something inside and they didn’t want anyone to know about it,” Soto said.
Slowly, through programs designed to verbalize thoughts, the students began sharing their experiences: how their house lost a roof or their family was displaced, he said.
Valeria Gonzalez, a buoyant, smiling 8-year-old, said she misses school but enjoys playing with her friends in the temporary school’s big patio.
She and her family had taken refuge in her aunt’s house in the middle of the storm. The next day, the family peeked outside to see devastation everywhere, including a relative’s home that was destroyed except for the bathroom.
“Everyone was shocked,” Valeria said. “It was terrible.”