Relentless Jurakán

 

Jurakán is the name of the Taino evil spirit responsible for storms, earthquakes and bad crops.  That word is mentioned by the Spanish historian González Fernández de Oviedo y Valdes in his chronicles of life in the Indies.  The Spanish derivation is huracán and the earliest known use of the word hurricane in English dates from the 16^th century (myetymology.com).

                        Hurricanes are a very real and scary part of life in the Caribbean.  The season officially begins on the first day of June and ends on the last day of November.  In other words, for six months of the year residents of the islands in the Greater and Lesser Antilles of the Caribbean Sea live under the threat of devastation. During the 42 years I lived in Puerto Rico, every year was unique when it came to hurricanes.  There were years of very little, almost no storm activity, other years that hurricane threats became heavy rainfalls, and a few  years we were subjected to the extensive destruction only a Category 3 or more hurricane can cause. 

            The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, better known as NOAA, informs that there are five hurricane categories as established by the Saffir-Simpson Hurricane Wind Scale which are as follows: Cat. 1 – 74 – 95 mph; Cat. 2 - 96 – 110 mph; Cat. 3 – 111-129; Cat. 4 - 130 -156 mph; Cat. 5 – 157+ mph.  From Category 3 to Category 5, the hurricanes are considered major and can cause great damage.

            The first written records of hurricanes in Puerto Rico were provided through reports that the colonizers sent to Spain and in some chronicles.  The storms were named for the saint of the day they impacted the island.  The first to be recorded happened four days after Ponce de Leon arrived on August, 1508 and it was named San Roque (St. Rocco or Roch). Records indicate that hurricanes came upon the island of Puerto Rico many, many times, some years even two or three hurricanes touched land.  The Spanish Friar Iñigo Abbad y Lasierra observed the indigenous people of Puerto Rico, the Tainos, and narrates how they were able to prognosticate a storm was coming by the changes in nature as observed in the sun, the stars, and the sea; they also heard a certain subterranean sound that was muted.  According to the Friar, the Tainos knew a storm was on the way two to three days before it actually made landfall (Robiou-Lamarche, Tierra Huracanada, El Nuevo Día, 24 de junio de 2007)).

            San Ciriaco (St. Cyriacus) is considered the most destructive hurricane in the history of Puerto Rico even though it was a Category 3.  It crossed the whole island from east to west in 1899 (one year after the US invasion of 1898), and left behind over 3,300 persons dead in addition to destroyed homes, agricultural lands and crops. Thirty years later, in 1928, San Felipe Segundo made landfall in Puerto Rico as a Category 5; it is the deadliest hurricane that has ever struck the island.  The numbers of deaths associated with San Felipe Segundo are less than San Ciriaco because the people were warned 36 hours earlier and they were able to prepare for the ravages of the monster storm that approached the island. It caused massive destruction of properties and crops (coffee, tobacco, sugar cane) that took years to restore. The storm was named San Felipe Segundo (St. Philip the Second), because a previous storm had struck the island in 1876 on the same day.  To read about hurricanes and the damage that they cause in Puerto Rico and other Caribbean islands insofar as lives, properties, crops, and infrastructure, is disconcerting and sad.  However, to live through one of these devastating hurricanes is a horrific and frightening experience because one is completely powerless in the face of such a relentless force of nature; I know because I have experienced a few. 

The first powerful and destructive hurricane I experienced was Hugo in 1989.  I had been living in Puerto Rico for 24 years and the hurricane seasons had not been extremely devastating; there was rainfall and flooding which caused damage to crops and property, but no Category 3 or 4 hurricanes. Hugo was a borderline Category 3/4 that struck the island with torrential rain and estimated winds of 130-160 mph.  It made landfall in eastern Puerto Rico and left two hours later through the area of Luquillo and Rio Grande, nevertheless, the effects of the hurricane (wind and rain) before and after landfall lasted for twelve hours and extended to San Juan and the metropolitan area because of its huge size.  In its wake, there were millions of dollars in damages including uprooted trees, roofs blown off homes, windows shattered, electrical power lines on the ground, and landslides.  Many roads were intransitable.  Thousands of homes and businesses were left without electrical power and potable water service. Our home was not the exception. 

Hugo made landfall at about 7:00 AM and moved slowly.  We had already been experiencing the rain which precedes the actual full blown hurricane; soon the wind started blowing with more force and kept escalating to the point that it was pounding on the windows. Eddie had boarded the sliders but the wind was so strong that water seeped in through the bottom rail.  We frantically searched for old towels and placed them by the sliding doors to keep seepage to a minimum.  There was no visibility to our back yard but we could hear the bamboo trees snapping one after another like firecrackers.  The incessant howling noise the wind produced was very scary; it resonated throughout the whole house.  This scenario lasted for hours; at first very intense and then slowly subsiding.  When it was over we did not have power, water service, or phone lines and for two days the roads that connected us to the main highways were blocked by fallen trees and all sorts of debris.   

Slowly the cleaning and restoration of services began.  In the meantime we had a camping stove, bottled water, and canned goods that allowed us to manage for a few days without problems.  Our phone service was restored and we got in touch with family both in Puerto Rico and the USA to make sure everyone was safe and to tell them we were doing as well as could be expected.  The roads to and from our home were cleared and we were able to go out and purchase bottled water.  As we rode to and from the supermarket, the landscape devastation was frightening; so many trees and plants had been flattened by Hugo that it seemed more like a bomb had been dropped.  One week later we were able to visit my mother-in-law in Bayamón, a town that was only twelve miles from where we lived.  She was one of the lucky ones to have both power and water restored.  From that moment on we went to her house every night to take a bath and bring water back to our home.  At first I was fine with the situation because it was a natural disaster, damage was extensive, and I was not alone in my hardship; many Puerto Ricans were going through the same problems.  However, as the weeks went by, my level of tolerance was diminishing.  Two weeks; three weeks; now when we got to the crossroad just before the road that took us home and looked into the darkness that seemed to envelope the road, my heart dropped.  It was depressing.  The beginning of the fourth week without utilities I decided to boost my spirit by going to a place that did not reflect what Puerto Rico had gone through.  I called the Cerromar Beach Hotel in Dorado and asked the receptionist if there was electricity and running water.  She laughed and said, “Yes we have both services. We also have rooms available.  Come on down!”  I quickly made a reservation for that weekend, from Saturday to Monday morning.

When my spouse got home that evening, I told him what I had done and that he should not worry because I would pay for the expenses with my part-time work paycheck which I had received the prior week from Inter American University.  It also occurred to me to say, “Eddie, even if the power and water services are restored on Saturday morning, we are going to the Cerromar Hotel.”  I must have developed my psychic powers during those four weeks because that is exactly what happened.  When we got up Saturday morning we had electric power and running water!  Eddie looked at me with a puzzled expression and before he uttered one word, I said: “We are going to the Cerromar.”

            When we got to the hotel it was like we were in another place altogether; it was not the Puerto Rico we had been experiencing.  Everything was so perfect and in order, including the trees and plants.  For two glorious days and nights we forgot about our house and the four weeks of cooking on a camping stove, transporting water from Bayamón to Guaynabo, using powdered milk for my coffee, not having air conditioning in our bedroom, keeping a cooler for the few refrigerated items we kept on hand, and many other inconveniences.  Those two days were refreshing and energizing.  When the next devastating hurricane came through Puerto Rico, Hurricane Georges (1998), we were ready.  We had installed a reserve water tank and had purchased a generator with the capacity to provide electricity for the refrigerator and a small, 110 volt air conditioner that was in our guest bedroom.  There were other hurricanes and tropical storms between Hugo and Georges, but they were not as calamitous.

            Hurricanes have always been and will be a part of the Caribbean just like every country in the world has its destructive forces of nature to contend with, whether they are earthquakes, typhoons, tsunamis, blizzards, tornados, droughts, volcanoes, and more. If we choose to live in those areas, it is our responsibility to be prepared for the moment of disaster.  Different to some natural disasters that arrive unexpectedly, hurricanes that affect the Caribbean are followed from the moment they start forming off the west coast of Africa and for days the people are informed of its possible route, force, and day of landfall.  We have time to prepare and pray that it will not be devastating.  Once the hurricane has passed, we also need to be willing to rebuild and restore with patience.

            I wrote the following poem during the days that followed Hurricane Georges.

                                                            JURAKAN

                                                            Jurakán!

                                                            Malignant spirit,

                                                            Violent force

                                                            That strikes

                                                            Mercilessly,

                                                            Ripping out,

                                                            Flattening,

                                                            Flooding,

                                                            Destroying

                                                            All that stands in your path.

                                                            Jurakán!

                                                            Relentless spirit,

                                                            Feared by our ancestors

                                                            Who witnessed in terror

                                                            Corpulent ceibas uprooted,

                                                            Plátanos, guineos, flattened,

                                                            Rivers raging, overflowing,

                                                            Forging new paths

                                                            Marked by devastation.

                                                            Jurakán!

                                                            Undying spirit

                                                            That today resurges,

                                                            Strong & unswerving,

                                                            Striking out in fury,

                                                            Ripping roofs,

                                                            Exploding glass,

                                                            Twisting steel,

                                                            Making us feel powerless,

                                                            Insignificant,

                                                            Afraid

                                                            In the face of your unbridled force.

                                                            Jurakán!

                                                            You've finally left us!

                                                            In your wake instead

                                                            A unifying sprit rises,

                                                            Human forces

                                                            Working as one,

                                                            Removing debris,

                                                            Recovering roads,

                                                            Replanting trees,

                                                            Reseeding fields.

                                                            Starting anew.

                        Reclaiming, rebuilding,

                                                            Restoring

                                                            Boriquén.