War of the Sea
Grand Bahama was named by the conquerors who came there. They called the island ‘Gran Bajamar.’ This translates to ‘great shallows.’ The name stuck and the entire archipelago of islands adopted it. The Bahamas. Grand Bahama is the home of Freeport once called the magic city. What made it so magical was its blissful appeal to tourists and foreigners. In the many years since that era, the city of magic lost its shine. It’s not only the city that has suffered. Great loss and calamity mar the entire island. Here, there is an ongoing war between the people and the sea. Every few years, a new hurricane emerges to try its hand at winning the war. There has been Francis and his sister Jeanne. Both brought great destruction to the magic city. Matthew fought hard, being one of the worst hurricanes to hit recently. But no one tried to get Grand Bahamians to wave their white flag like Hurricane Dorian. It was unlike anything that the islanders had ever seen before. A once-in-a-lifetime category-five hurricane. Meteorologists may call it a perfect storm. This is that story. Dorian Versus Grand Bahama.
Grand Bahama has had its fair share of storms. The people no longer shudder at the thought of one. No, the island goes in preparation mode at the announcement of a hurricane warning. At this point, it’s normal. The long lines at the food store, gathering supplies. Plenty of batteries for flashlights and radios. Buying gasoline tanks and gallons of water. The plywood coming out to protect the glass windows. The stacks of sandbags in areas of flooding. Completely normal. No cause for concern. Grand Bahamians have faced hurricanes before and will do it again.
The night before every hurricane the whole island goes quiet. By that time, water and power are off in preparation. Arrangements are made to either wait the storm out or stay with family elsewhere. The fridge is stocked. Pets are placed inside. Cars may be moved to safer locations. Some pack up in case they need to make a quick getaway. All the proper measures are in place. All that’s left to do is to wait. There is already a small change in the water. The waves are not as calm and still. But it is not enough to show what’s coming.
It is always the most daunting the eve before the hurricane makes landfall. This is the case the night before Dorian’s grand entrance. It brings a familiar fear and anxiety. Yet, there is a sense that the island will manage like it has before. As the storm approaches the island, the wind shifts and picks up. The palm trees sway with the sound of crinkling leaves. This is not the hurricane. Some of the islanders lie awake in bed, wondering if this is another Matthew. Optimistic hopes fly through their heads. A hurricane on a set path to fight the island could back out at the last minute. The storm could weaken as it passes the island’s sister to the east, Abaco.
As they listen for the oncoming storm, most islanders will whisper a prayer to God. The Bahamas is said to be a “Christian nation.” They will never forget the hard times their God has brought them through. Others do their best to stay up all night and watch the storm. Some try to sleep as much as they can. Dorian has a slow start. Rainwater pelts the windows and doors. The wind is not fast enough to cause alarm so early. Despite their best efforts, many will drop off to sleep in the wee hours of the morning. This is the time when Dorian makes its move. It sneaks up on the islanders when they least expect it.
Dorian pushes water into the small island. It uses the King Tide to its advantage. With its 185 mph winds, the hurricane pumps water along the coast and inland. The wind and rain are intense. It beats down on Grand Bahama. Even before the sun comes out, the hurricane is doing its best to win the battle. It strikes as most of Grand Bahama is asleep, oblivious to the war raging outside. Water creeps its way inside the homes of those in low lying areas. There aren’t many awake to witness it.
The Thompsons, a middle-class family of four live “Over the Bridge”. They are all asleep. The father and mother are Curt and Maryann. Their two kids are seventeen-year-old Elena and three-year-old Toby. It is not until 6 a.m. that they realize that Dorian’s fight outside has found its way inside. Thankfully, there is time for them to get to safety. Curt wakes up first. He becomes aware of the wind and rain on his windows. Curt is used to this, having survived five hurricanes. He is still sore from the hurricane preparations from yesterday. Yawning, Curt grabs the flashlight on his nightstand and takes his first step out of the bed. Oddly wet.
Curt’s heart jumps in his stomach. No, it can’t be. He had lined every door with sandbags. Assured himself of the hurricane’s direction and speed on his cellphone. Checked every entryway before he laid down. They had never had flooding before. They had never had flooding before. The five foot foundation had always ensured their home was dry. Sure enough, six inches of water cover the master bedroom’s carpet. It comes to his shins. Immediately, he regrets his decision to stay home. When it came to hurricane warnings, there were two options - stay put or get out. It was too late for the latter. Quickly, he awoke his sleeping wife.
“What?” Maryann faintly murmurs.
While Curt had a hard time falling asleep, Maryann had drifted off as soon as her head hit the pillow. She spent yesterday waiting in long lines for food and cooking provisions. As soon as she turned off the stove, the Grand Bahama Power Company shut off electricity island-wide. Her time was well-spent ensuring their family had food for the next few days.
“We ... we floodin’ baby,” Curt says. The words stick in his throat.
Curt doesn’t want her to sense his growing panic. He needs to remain calm. Why didn’t he decide they should evacuate? Curt had handled so many storms before. He had dealt with the fallen trees, destroyed power lines, and flying debris. But never, never flooding. Dorian was different from the others. If he had known, he would’ve never stayed. He would’ve never made his family stay here. This was his fault.
“Floodin’,” she says in a hurry. Maryann abandons her deep sleep. She gets up. Her bonnet slips from her braided hair. She almost doesn’t believe him. But her eyes don’t lie. There is water flowing into their bedroom. It inches its way up the walls.
“Wake the chirrun. And grab anyting you need,” Curt tells her.
His stunned wife is silent. She nods and rushes to the children’s rooms.
Wading through the water, Curt realizes it is rising quicker than he thought. It must have started coming inside around 3 am. If he had stayed awake all night like he had done for past hurricanes, he would’ve caught that. This time, his exhaustion had overtaken him. No point getting mad at himself now. In three hours, the water had stretched along their entire four bedroom, three-bathroom house. It was the house he had poured his sweat and tears into. The house he had paid for completely out of pocket. And it was falling apart.
No time to think about everything he is losing. There is a more important job at stake. Curt goes into his closet and finds a large backpack. He stuffs it with important items that rise in his head. A blanket. The lanterns. What other things did they need? Right, their documents. Their passports. Birth Certificates. Vaccinations. National Insurance Cards. Everything that showed they were citizens of The Bahamas. Also, the deed for the house. His wallet. A change of clothes. What else? It is impossible to think with the sound of waves crashing into the wall. The water gushes in through holes in the doors and windows. It is only a matter of time before all the water breaks through. The ferocious waters are higher outside than inside. It towers over the sandbags. The ground is completely submerged. Only the tops of trees poke out of the flood. The waters envelope the house like a close hug. Every rush causes more water to come inside. The flood’s high outline bounces against the glass windows.
Curt changes into a fresh pair of shorts, a black tee and some tennis shoes. He does his best to keep a level head. Curt assesses the situation. Yup, the water is pushing on the front door. It’s causing it to strain under the pressure. The only thing keeping them right now is the closed door and windows. He is grateful they’re hurricane-impact. They were designed for wind. There is no telling how they would withstand the waves. He needs to grab as much as he can before it gets worse. It is too late for a quick escape. This is a matter of survival. The responsibility is on him. They need as much as they can get to survive until the storm passes. Not a second could be wasted. Curt begins his frantic search for supplies.
Maryann can barely contain her fear as she runs down the hallway. She hooks one of their lanterns onto her arm. Her head is groggy with sleepiness. Her bedroom slippers are soaked. It’s the very worst thing that could’ve happened. The builder had told them as long as they built up, they would be protected from flooding. Until now, that advice had been true. Hurricane after hurricane, their home was safe despite its location near the canals. Curt had put sandbags down in case this one brought a few extra inches of water. That hadn’t been any help. The builder was wrong, very wrong. Maryann can’t breathe. Her ribcage is squeezing her lungs. She fights back hot tears. Her chest burns. No, she must put on a brave face for the kids. She takes a few deep breaths and swallows her fears.
“Elena, Elena. Da house is flooding.” Maryann shakes her daughter’s sleeping body. “Huh?” Elena says. Her eyes pop open in fear. “How?”
“While we was sleeping,” Maryann says. “The water, the water just came. Hurry grab ya tings.”
Instantly, Elena is alert. Adrenaline shoots through her body. She turns on her phone’s flashlight and changes out of her pajamas. Elena grabs her Bible first. Her hands shake as she tries to gather other essentials. She wills her body to cooperate despite her fear. This should not be happening, she repeats in her head. Elena had recently graduated from high school. She was one week into her classes at the University of the Bahamas. The night before, Elena completed her homework. She couldn’t wait to enjoy her days off from school. It was all meaningless now. Her life was at stake. Her family was in danger. Some of her belongings were already ruined. Elena focuses on what could still be salvaged. She grabs her piggy bank and stuffs it into her pack. She packs her laptop, toiletries, and dry clothes. Elena is too shocked to process what is happening. Her body is moving too fast for her mind. Elena gathers anything she can think of. She argues in her head about bringing the stuffed animal on her bed. Elena tries to ignore the lukewarm water sloshing around her legs. She leaves it.
Maryann rushes into Toby’s room. Wet socks and shoes float in the soiled water. She awakes her son softly, not wanting to scare him. He starts crying at the loud noises of the storm. She changes him in a hurry and hoists him on her hips. Then, she gathers his things with her remaining hand. She grabs his diaper bag and packs it with his water bottle, diapers, and baby wipes. Toby doesn’t understand what is happening. All he knows is the room is dark and there are scary noises everywhere. Toby continues crying. Half asleep, he rubs his eyes crusted with mucus. Maryann whispers that it’ll be okay. She says it to herself too. The words reverberate in her mind. Right now, the water would be at Toby’s waist if he was standing. Maryann forces herself to focus on Toby’s belongings. Only when Elena comes to take Toby, does she pack for herself.
The household is in utter chaos. Maryann grabs a photo album of her children’s baby photos. She gets their electronics charged from yesterday and a battery pack. All go into her backpack. Curt puts a pot of leftovers, dry cereal and two gallons of water into a plastic bag. Next, he grabs a first aid kit and a bottle of antiseptic alcohol. Elena carries Toby and tries to comfort him. He wails and squirms in her arms. All the while, the water is rising. It smells like sewage and salt. The water climbs up their legs to their knees. The rapid flood makes it difficult to move and avoid the floating objects. Curt is anxious. He is aware of every minute passing. If the family stays too long, they will be trapped. The water is too fast. There isn’t enough time. They can’t get everything. It isn’t safe here. They need to leave now. The home is only one story. There was only one place that they could go.