Day 4 – St. Elizabeth (Black River)
Most of us were awake before dawn. I’m not sure if it was anticipation or adrenaline, but whatever the case, Johnson, Anderson, and I sat up on the back porch and watched the sun come up while we studied for the day. As I mapped our course for the morning, I discovered someone had added Kevin G. Brown’s sacred grove (4 Grove Road, Mandeville) to Google Maps, so we, of course, added that to our list for later that week.
Sister Medley and Sister Richardson offered to cook for us if we bought groceries, so of course, we accepted that unbelievably kind offer. Breakfast on Monday included the tiny, sweet bananas that we could not get enough of.
To make good use of our time, while we waited for the Tyre Warehouse to open, we went to Urville’s Super Market to buy cases of water for the people in St. Elizabeth. Thank you for a generous donation from my friend Ryan Betts. We loaded the van with as much water as we could carry and headed back down Spur Tree Hill. Sister Medley joined us for the week, and it was her first time driving with me. Mighty prayer took on a whole new meaning riding in the van with us. I’m pretty sure her spirit left her body at one point. We descended into St. Elizabeth and met the Morrisons at their home in Goshen. They had one truck loaded with clothes to hand out, and we loaded the other with food and supplies for the day. Next, we drove to the chapel in Santa Cruz to drop off the clothes to be sorted before we pushed on south toward Black River.
Just outside of Santa Cruz, we were confronted with the loss of a Jamaican icon, Bamboo Alley. The massive bamboo archway that covered several kilometers of road was a near total loss, with the large bamboo clusters bent or ripped from the ground altogether. We all took stock and prepared ourselves for what was to come.
Our first official stop of the day was to see Sister Blossom Watson, who lived in Middle Quarters. We had no sooner pulled off the road than I woman named Margaret emerged from a building with a power pole collapsed on top of it. She asked for water, and we cracked open a case and gave her some water bottles. That cascaded into several neighbors coming out and asking for water. We gave them water to drink and crossed the highway to see Sister Watson.
A few large trees were lying over the path to her home, and Bulkley, Svenson, Anderson, and Brother Morrison got out the chain saws and went to work. Johnson and I made our way back to the house and introduced ourselves to Sister Watson. She was sitting outside with a tub of soapy water and a variety of household goods and items, which she was working to clean up from the collateral damage from the fallout of the storm. We asked her about her experience with the hurricane, and she took us through the worst of the storm, beginning with the loss of her veranda, and invited us to see inside what was left of her house. Part of the roof from the main house had collapsed, and over the back rooms of her home, the roofing was ripped completely off. Sister Watson told us she hadn’t slept all night while the hurricane raged, and in the light of day, she did not know what to do. Sister Medley and Sister Morrison joined us, and we asked what would be most helpful. She asked if we could move a wardrobe, so Johnson, Anderson, and I made a plan and started clearing a path through a narrow back hallway to the one room where the roof held. Anderson and I hefted the wardrobe and navigated the hallway to set it in place. We moved some other things around for her, and the others working outside joined us to offer a blessing. After giving Sister Watson a blessing, we invited her son to get a blessing. Svenson explained what a priesthood blessing was, and he accepted. It started to rain as the priesthood men in the room gathered around to place hands on his head. I couldn’t help but peek up above the exposed rafters and look for leaks. The rest of the house had leaks, but this one room remained dry in the drizzling rain.
The rain fell heavier as we made our way back to the van. That did not stop people from asking what we could give them as we passed by. In the driving rain, we handed out water, ropes, and tarps (Thank you to the Hancocks for providing a large tarp that was the first to be handed out). Then it was on to Black River.
Our first stop in Black River was at Auntie P’s house. The damage in Black River was much worse than we had seen thus far. Every home had roof damage, or damage to the walls, or both. Some were missing roofs entirely. We pulled into a vacant lot across from Auntie P’s and put on our work gloves. House after house, and nearly every street we had seen, had piles of debris, zinc, trash, and other things ruined by the hurricane sitting out by the road. We loaded two relatively flat piles of zinc in the Morrison’s truck and started throwing the rubbish and debris in it until it was full. Johnson and I followed Anderson and Brother Morrison to the dump. Before the hurricane, “the dump” had been a park where the people of Black River gathered to relax or play, or enjoy a bright sunny day. Now, the damage to the structures and pools of rancid standing water had spoiled the park, and people had been dumping all their garbage and debris there. The smell was putrid. We pulled on the zinc sheets on the bottom of the rubbish pile, and it all slid out. On our way out of the dump, we saw these giant hogs doing unspeakable things. Johnson asked if that put me off Jerk Pork, honestly, it kind of did. Just for a minute, because Jerk Pork is delicious, but I do have to find a way to scrub that memory from my brain.
Auntie P took us around to many, many of her friends. We stopped to check on Miss Blair, who was in her 80s, and while the group was walking through the gate, I noticed her neighbor standing out by her gate watching us. I went and introduced myself. Her name was Gillette, and she asked if we were building back roofs. I told her we were not, but offered her some water and some tarps. I brought some things over, and she invited me in. She took me back through the house to where her 84-year-old mother, Louise, was lying in a wooden chair by the toilet, which she had been doing for a month. She explained that it was the only place in the house where the roof was intact and that she and her mother had been sleeping in the tiny bathroom on chairs because their mattresses had been ruined by the storm. That stayed with me, and I shared that with the group. Sister Morrison said there was a mattress at the church in Santa Cruz that we could bring back. I was grateful for that.
We checked on several others, and Joel and I gave a couple of blessings to a different mother and daughter. The mom is a member, but the daughter was not, and she’d been caring for her aging mother and trying to clean up and put their lives back together since the storm.
Then we met Mr. Collins. He’s 94 years old and as strong and faith-filled as they come. He rode out the hurricane, giving it to God, saying Whatever will be, will be. We left him a tarp, and Joel found a couple of buckets to catch water leaking in the kitchen. The rain was coming down pretty hard, and the rest of the group, who had been cleaning up more debris, arrived, and we all had bun and cheese.
While we were eating, several people came by looking for food or water. One guy left mad because we didn’t have a care package for him. Also, Elder Jean Batiste from the area presidency, who hails from Haiti, came to where we were. He was riding with a senior missionary, Elder Walker. They were doing a roof assessment and trying to make a plan for the church to help with roof repair/replacement. I took him to meet Mr. Collins, and we visited for a while.
Auntie P had another friend, Nikki, who needed some debris cleaned up, so we loaded the trucks again with a pile that had been partially burned and was pretty messy. Then we delivered some tarps, ropes, water filters, and sweeties to a member who had 3 kids and was pregnant with the fourth. We gave them all blessings, and the neighbors came out looking for supplies. It was difficult to help some and have to turn others down or turn them away, having others who were expecting us.
At our next stop, Johnson showed them how to use the bucket filter they had received from another charity, but did not know how to use it. We learned that giving is great, but if there’s no support or instruction to accompany the giving, then it won’t be the blessing you hoped it would be. I walked across the street to talk with this Rasta named Riggs. He showed me his home, which had lost the entire room. He did a great job tarping the structure, but the weight of the water when it rained and the lack of pitch caused water to pool and leak through the tarps. We gave him a water filter and tarps, and a food package, and he was very grateful. He said he was a vegetarian, so he wouldn’t eat the canned meats, but we would make sure someone in need got them.
Our last stop in Black River was an older sister sheltering with her entire family, including several children and grandchildren. When the storm surge flooded the community, they had to swim to their neighbor’s home, break a window, and push grandma inside to keep from being swept away. The neighbor’s name was Buggy. He had been helping lots of people since Hurricane Melissa, so we loaded them up with supplies (tarps, rope, water filters, etc) and Johnson showed him how to use them.
A woman came out and asked for a care package. I looked in the van, and we had two left, so I carried one up to her house and found Buggy there helping out. When we returned to the van, a young boy named Devonte was there and asked meekly if he could get a care package for his mother. I asked where she was and followed him to their home. Johnson and I delivered the package and met the boy’s sister, father, and mother. They were very grateful.
We left Black River and followed the Morrison’s back to Goshen to drop off stuff for tomorrow. Then we drove up to Mandeville and bought groceries for the next day’s food deliveries (thank you again, Ryan). Johnson chartered a taxi to carry a bunch of 5-gallon water jugs (thank you to Jonathan Rupp), and we returned heavily loaded to the Richardsons’ for the night. She had a delicious meal of chicken, rice & peas waiting, which was amazing! We had a small reflection on the day, and I kept thinking about that poor old woman sleeping in the wooden chair by the toilet.