Jamaica’s Black River: A Town Shattered by Hurricane Melissa, 90% of Homes Destroyed

The courthouse, the library, local schools, the bustling downtown shopping area, and nearly every roof – all vanished, obliterated by the most ferocious hurricane to ever strike Jamaica. Along the country’s southern coast, Black River stands as a stark testament to the storm’s fury, with virtually no building left untouched. Its widespread destruction has come to symbolize the profound suffering and monumental task of rebuilding now confronting countless Jamaican communities.

In the small remnants of St. Theresa’s church in Black River, Father Thomas Ngigi, a Kenyan priest serving the parish, found himself seeking solace in the shade, reflecting on the few blessings that remained amidst the ruins.

Hurricane Melissa ripped away the church’s roof, obliterating pews and almost everything else within its walls. Yet, miraculously, the crucifix, the sacred tabernacle holding the Holy Eucharist, and a cherished statue of the patron saint remained untouched. With his rectory destroyed and vital diabetes medication missing, Father Ngigi could only lay out his sodden clothes and religious texts to dry in the sun. St. Theresa’s, once a proud part of Black River’s historic waterfront, now stands engulfed by widespread desolation. “At night, people come by and ask if they can stay here,” Father Ngigi recounted. “I tell them the whole place is blown apart.” He finds companionship in a local homeless man, whose T-shirt bears the handwritten title “security guard.” Meanwhile, the church’s groundskeeper, having narrowly escaped from the rubble of another on-site building, diligently scours the area on his bicycle, searching for food.

Last week, Hurricane Melissa, a Category 5 behemoth, slammed into Jamaica, claiming at least 32 lives and leveling countless buildings and homes. Among the casualties, one victim washed ashore in Black River, still unidentified. Large swaths of the country remain without power as authorities battle to clear roads and reach isolated communities. Black River, a town of approximately 5,000 residents and the parish capital of St. Elizabeth in southwestern Jamaica, bore the brunt of the storm’s wrath. This historic town, once home to a thriving shrimp and freshwater fishery, proudly featured a house that received electricity in 1893 – a marvel even before widespread adoption in the U.S. Tragically, that very waterfront property on High Street, lately known as the Waterloo guesthouse, now lies in ruins, just a short stroll from the devastated St. Theresa’s.

Amidst the widespread devastation, the local Kentucky Fried Chicken franchise stood as a surprising exception, having weathered the storm remarkably well. Yet, even structures fortunate enough to retain their roofs are now submerged in thick mud. The entire town has mobilized, united in the arduous task of cleaning up.

Following days of desperate conditions, including instances of looting, Black River is now focused on its monumental recovery. Power remains out, phone lines are down, and food supplies are dwindling, but the commencement of aid distribution has ignited a palpable determination to rise from this unprecedented catastrophe. Firefighters, for instance, are painstakingly removing buckets of mud from the firehouse’s first floor, which was submerged under 16 feet of water. “To clean this? This definitely is not a one-day operation,” commented fire superintendent Kimar Brooks, highlighting that “Ninety percent of the citizens are displaced.”

In a testament to unwavering commitment, many police officers, firefighters, nurses, and doctors in Black River have yet to return home to assess their own damaged properties, assuming the worst. “The staff change in their vehicles and shower here, because they don’t have any other place to go,” explained Dr. Robert Powell, an emergency room physician at Black River Hospital, where the roof was ripped off and most patients were evacuated. Despite the chaos, more injured individuals continue to arrive, victims of falls from ladders or trapped in collapsed homes.

Andrea Montaque, whose home was destroyed, revealed that she and at least five family members have been sleeping in a compact Nissan Tiida, parked amidst the ruins of their former house. “I’m traumatized,” she confessed. Next door, a wooden house had imploded into a colossal pile of debris, tragically killing one resident. Ivan Joseph, another occupant, miraculously survived. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” he stated. Across the street, the Auglo Senior Living home suffered such extensive damage that 13 residents were forced to huddle together in the single remaining room with an intact roof.

At the local police station, an inspector, enduring the scorching heat, meticulously recorded each incident by hand in the “big book” – the station diary. Most visitors arrived on foot, primarily to report lost vehicles, hoping for insurance compensation. Serena Edwards, however, came to report her mother missing. Her mother’s house collapsed during the storm, but a neighbor witnessed her fleeing the flying debris into the torrential rain. “My feelings, I think she’s alive,” Ms. Edwards stated optimistically before setting off to search the government-operated shelters. Compounding the chaos, some residents mistakenly believed the local high school was also a shelter. Oliver Taylor, 52, the school’s security guard, found himself caring for an elderly woman with dementia who had been left there overnight on Saturday. The disoriented woman sat alone on a mattress in an empty classroom. Mr. Taylor himself was also living at Black River High School, having lost his own home in the hurricane.

“This was like a tsunami,” Mr. Taylor grimly observed, as ambulance service volunteers checked his blood pressure and tended to his foot, pierced by a nail through his Crocs. His sentiment echoed the overwhelming reality: “This is going to take a while.”

Camille Williams contributed reporting from Kingston, Jamaica.