While the soft tones of another Caribbean sunset settle on the hillsides of St. Croix’s north shore, this wasn’t the case on Sept. 17 and 18, 1989, when the skies over the island didn’t reflect these recent 2014 dates’ stars and clouds passing quietly by.
On the 25th anniversary this week of Hurricane Hugo, people are remembering Hugo and the storm’s violent siblings, Marilyn and Luis. The talk in the Caribbean, on the street and in online forums, is also about how things have changed.
As is often human nature, people look back and reflect not only on what was – Hugo’s harrowing and terrifying arrival in the wee hours of the morning 25 years ago – but also on what is now in their lives, and then they look at what is to come.
“It was like the surface of the moon,” says 72-year-old Pete, sitting on a patio near Salt River Marina. While holding a small book of photos and a package of his favorite cigarettes, he looks up at the now-green hills of trees and foliage, the flowers blooming nearby. He cocks his head and listens to the sounds of birds and tourists. His eyes show deeper emotion about a storm he still finds difficult to talk about. “That was a long night, and the next day, and the next week, and the next six months.”
Pete tells a story of hours spent holding a closet door closed as the winds howled around him and two others, huddled in what remained of a house on the east end. He says they started the night in the house, hunkered down with supplies and hope, but as the winds and water assaulted the structure, ripping away windows, walls and the roof, the three of them retreated further and further into the house until they were in a closet.
“The other man and I stood holding the door of that closet closed with our hands outstretched. The woman with us sat on the floor with her feet against the bottom of the door, holding it closed. We were there for hours,” Pete remembers.
Hugo seemed to stand still over St. Croix that very long night, where the slower progression westward allowed Hugo to batter the island with the worst beating of any location along its destructive path. At 2 a.m. on Sept. 18, 1989, Hugo’s eye wall struck St. Croix bringing Category 4 winds clocked at a sustained 140 mph. 
Discussing Hugo with people who endured the storm isn’t easy. There is an element of respect in asking questions that are painful to answer. Their stories come forth sometimes with a shell-shocked awe and taut voices that range from angry frustration to soft emotions evidencing the hurricane tore apart more than buildings and roadways.
Storms appear to almost have personalities, confusing observers with their paths and intensity bursts, and they seem to almost pick and choose which islands their fury will avoid, which they will sideswipe and which ones they will destroy.
Stories recounted talk of individual struggle, personal grief and a “that which did not kill me, made me stronger” ideal. In many cases, stories come forth showing that a community both bands together and somewhat seems to fall apart due to both the ferocity of the storm and the lack of infrastructure and support that is often left behind in its wake.
Pete says, “Groups of people come together in some ways to clean up and figure things out and yet there is a feeling of ‘every-man-for-himself’ that is also present as there is no phone, no power, no water and, if you needed anything, you couldn’t call anyone or go anywhere if you wanted to.”
Survival seems to be the name of the game both during and after a storm. First against the water, wind and fury, and later against the devastation, desperation and scarcity of resources. The stories are as varied as the people who tell them. Some view the survival game from a perspective of having prepared, and some – often the less fortunate – have to resort to scrounging for whatever resources they can find.
“The line between looting and surviving is very thin when it’s a population that was somewhat desperate to begin with,” Pete says. “You might be able to do without power and your phone, and you might be able to set up someplace dry to sleep, but you can’t do very well without food and water.”
“If you go to the store and it’s closed, and you have no food or water, and you can only get as far as that store because the roads are covered in debris, the decision to take what you need isn’t about stealing or looting; it’s about surviving.”
Pete thumbed through a book containing both before and after Hugo photographs that he took. “There was no power from that morning in September – until April, I think. During the storm we had periods – just two or three minutes where the storm seemed to pause and catch its breath – and I would peek out and walk around if I could. I couldn’t recognize anything. The land was gray. Nothing was standing,” Pete says.
This Sunday, others will share their stories and photos of devastation and recovery at the Botanical Gardens on St. Croix.
“Allawe Remembering Hugo; Hugo Then and Now at Botanical Garden: Devastation and Resilience“ runs from noon until 6 p.m. at the St. George Village Botanical Garden. Some of Pete’s photos will be featured as part of the event. The event is being promoted to focus on understanding, revering and drawing strength from the experience of Hurricane Hugo.
The botanic garden will feature its own recovery from the storm – when the grounds were a brown wasteland of downed and broken trees and troops from the 463rd military police were camping out in the Great Hall – including displays of news articles, photos and memorabilia and personal reflections.
Power poles and palm trees were not the only things felled by Hugo. Businesses were damaged and destroyed; many never recovered. Even now, empty shells dot the downtown areas of Christiansted and Frederiksted – some ghostly monuments to the ferocity of the storm – and the hollowed out buildings echo of lost dreams, livelihoods and lives. Many people left and haven’t returned.
Hurricane Hugo caused 34 fatalities in the Caribbean, eight on St. Croix, and left nearly 100,000 homeless. The final monetary tally of damage from start to finish was around $10 billion overall, making it the most damaging hurricane ever recorded at the time.
St. Croix’s share of that damage was estimated at nearly $2 billion, but the economic toll in the years after, and the loss of jobs and economic footholds in the last 25 years, have built upon those wind-battered 24 hours where Hugo was everyone’s boss.
What has been learned?
Many residents say they feel that the V.I. government has become more aware of the need for both preparation and infrastructure to support recovery from such disasters. The governor and FEMA have a joint information resource site on the Internet, and each year at the beginning of hurricane season, lists are circulated for supply recommendations.
Information is more widely available now than it was in 1989, and technology is more advanced. Connections for most citizens to the Internet and media sources that can broadcast the movement and approach of a storm system are everywhere, and the 24/7 news cycle keeps anxious residents and family abroad informed of storms as they develop and move over vast oceans.
Web sites for supplies, resources, and educational information is available 24/7 on the Internet, and funds are being applied for advanced technology and equipment to respond to emergencies on the islands.
Emergency apps for smart phones exist now that did not in 1989. These provide powerful tools to residents with information, covering everything from weather alerts, satellite and radar views, and references on a number of topics; for first-aid treatment of the injured, post-storm resources and survival tips on how to purify water, build a shelter and contact loved ones. It is easier now to obtain the information to prepare; however, the paths of storms, and the outcomes, are still less defined.
With all the questions asked of survivors and those willing to discuss their experience, something else comes to mind. As well as it being the 25th anniversary of Hugo, 2014 is an election year, and in the swirling drama of ballots and candidates, it is worth consideration to view the possible, though undesired, return of a storm of such magnitude to the territory.
Those who the people elect this year to lead the Virgin Islands may be the people making critical decisions in such an emergency. Perhaps it is worth it to view the candidates and ask how they may address such an overwhelming tragedy, such profound economic impact, and how they would guide the islands to recovery. Those decisions and many others may be critical elements in the decision-making process.
Questions to consider:
What can be learned from Hugo and/or Marilyn? Has the government or the infrastructure of the Virgin Islands learned anything? If something similar were approaching now, how could people respond or do it differently than those who survived Hugo? What could help someone new to the island to know about surviving/preparing for before, during and after a significant storm?
Posed to forum members and citizens, these questions generated emotional answers from survivors and sage advice to newcomers as most answers circled around an idea of preparedness.
Making lists of needs and storing supplies long before the need strikes and being prepared to go a long period of time without resources were high priorities.
Others spoke of education about the situation, their options and the resources in place for both during, and after the storm. Still others spoke of a higher understanding of themselves and the life they have here in paradise.
“[That] material possessions aren’t as important as you think they are. That your ability to learn and grow and use the grey matter between your ears is the most precious thing you possess. That a good sense of humor is essential to a healthy life and to survival of the bad things that happen,” says a forum member that goes by the handle Old Tart recounting things you realize in a situation like was faced after some of these storms.
She says one benefit that came forth from previous devastation was that building codes were tightened after Hugo and further tightened after Marilyn. “Don’t treat any incoming storm as a joke,” she recommended, continuing to say, ”You shouldn’t be rushing around at the last minute grabbing every last battery and canned tin of beans from the grocery store because you should have a basic preparedness kit in your home at all times – hurricane season or not.”
Sentiments echoed through interviews and discussions seem to show that people now better understand that establishing themselves in strong homes of concrete, having generators and fuel beforehand will hopefully stem rushes and confrontational situations when a storm hits. All a person can do is hold on, keep a cool head, and “ride it out” as so many people have come to say.
Old Tart further emphasized something that seems to echo Pete’s statements of community and strength in numbers. “If you’re all prepared with only last-minute things to do while waiting to see if the storm’s going to impact or slide off, help that elderly or infirm neighbor move stuff that needs to be moved out of harm’s way.”
These sentiments are found in many discussions of late, a feeling that newcomers to the island find themselves slipping into as gradually as they learn to watch the waves come in: There is community here. There is the ability to stand through the storms that have passed over this paradise and smile.
Virgin Islands Joint Information Center: http://www.governordejongh.com/jic/
St. George Village Botanical Gardens: http://www.sgvbg.org
Emergency Response Trailers: http://www.vitema.gov/news/releases/2014/utility-trailers.html
http://www.vitema.gov/news/releases/2014/hurricane-preparedness-week.html
http://www.vitema.gov/plan-prepare/index.html
Apps for Emergencies:
http://appadvice.com/applists/show/apps-for-emergencies
http://prepared-housewives.com/emergency-apps-that-might-just-save-your-life/
