Tropical storm Agatha brought up memories of Hurricane Stan - five years ago this October. I´ve told the story hundreds of times, but never written it down. My son was two years old - almost three. A bunch of friends were staying with us, sleeping in the studio. The studio is about 25 feet away from the house.
My friend Javi woke up first, from the sound of tree trunks hitting the wall of the studio. He woke the others. When they opened the door, they couldn´t beleive what they saw.
Between the two buildings ran a huge river. Both buidings are raised off the ground by about four steps. The water was up to the top steps. Javi and another friend found some rope and set out to cross the river to get my husband, son and myself (we were very asleep at 3am). I hadn´t locked the door, so Javi just came in. I woke up to him screaming that we had to get up and go. I had no idea what was going on. No idea at all.
We had heard a landslide at midnight, but thought it sounded very far away and went to bed in our blissful ignorance of what mud and water are capable of.
Javi said there was no time to get anything, that we had to run. When I stepped out of the house onto the porch I couldn't believe my eyes. Where my fence used to be, there was a four-foot waterfall pouring down from the mountain into our yard. We made it across the river to the studio where the others were untying all the rope from our collection of African drums. My husband hadn´t even had time to put his shoes on. I had only grabbed a blanket to wrap my son in. Everyone was shouting. The noise of the river, rocks, trees, and boulders falling down was unbearable. They all wanted to leave. My husband and I thought it was a crazy idea to run out into the middle of it, but when I heard my friend on the phone to his mother, saying good-bye as though it was the last time he might speak to her - I realized that there was no trying to convince the others to stay. To all stay together seemed to be the most important thing, so we went along with it.
If you´re thinking of volunteering at our project, I don´t want to scare you with this story so I´ll tell you now that we would have been fine had we stayed, and that you won´t have to run out into the middle of a hurricane while you're here.
We couldn´t leave out of the main door of our center because of the river, so we jumped out of a window onto a path that was dry. There were thirteen of us, and just a pair of flashlights. We were running, and the sound of the mountain collapsing behind us made me feel like Indiana Jones in that scene where he´s running for his life with a giant boulder rolling straight for him.
The river had broken into several smaller, but very powerful rivers. They were all over the place. It's very difficult for the mind to process topographical changes in a place that you know very well - especially when it´s home. We reached a point where two rivers met. A tree had fallen over the path and ,to get through, we had to duck under the tree, with the river up to our waists. Once we passed it, we were able to get out of the river and on to a main path. It was all mud. People´s shoes were getting stuck and lost in it.
We walked into the town´s small park and decided to get up onto the covered outdoor stage. It´s all cement, with it´s back to the mountain and a two-story school behind it, so it felt safe. Most of the people in the group were artists, trapped on a stage. About three minutes after getting on the stage, which is about three feet off the ground, there was a deafening sound. A flash flood surrounded the stage with river. It kept on rising. People were yelling. We were on an island in the middle of darkness and loudness. We were soaked. I thought the entire village had been swept away. Maybe we were the only survivors. How long would it take a helicopter to find us there? Would another flash flood come and crush us inside the stage? Would we die from hypothermia? I held my boy tight. I was ready to die.
Someone broke down a little door to a storage room back-stage. There was a wheelbarrow and a pile of wood. We started a fire in the wheelbarrow, dried our clothes and got warm. I was glad we wouldn´t die cold. We were there for three hours - from 3am to 6am.
When day broke, we saw other people in the distance. There was a team of men helping others. One by one, they got us out. When I finally stepped out of the river, there were people standing, under their umbrellas, watching to see who came out. It was surreal.
My son and I stayed with local families for two weeks. My husband decided to come back to the house to protect it from theives that were taking advantage of the evacuated houses to steal whatever they could. Several houses in the river´s path were completely filled with mud, and a few were completely destroyed. All of the roads had collapsed. There was no way in or out of town. Within 24 hours, the local stores had run out of drinking water, batteries, sugar, candles and food.
The families that we stayed with, on a normal day, don´t have enough food for themselves. I would give my son the couple of tortillas that they could offer us and maintained myself on watered-down coffee. At some point, someone gave my son a little bag of chips with cornflakes in it. The image of him walking around, clinging to the little bag, eating one cornflake at a time, will stay with me forever.
Electricity was out for a month. All the water pipes had broken and there was no running water for nearly two months. We had to collect all our water from the river, where we would also bathe waste-deep. During the three years that I´d lived here, the river had never gotten past ankle-depth. We spent a few weeks wondering if we should leave and start our lives somewhere else. We thought and thought, but everywhere we could think of going had something wrong with it. We´d have to drive cars, or get "real" jobs, or live in a city, or face other dangers. In the end, we decided to build a really big wall facing the mountain.
We decided that we´d rather face hurricanes and landslides than leave this place that we built from scratch, with so much love. This is our home. This is where we are.
After giving birth to my son, surviving that night was probably the next most intense experience of my life. I wouldn´t change it for the world. To feel so small, to feel the full force of nature like that, to understand how quickly everything can change - I am grateful for this.
With such present danger, the body knows to switch to survival mode. Our bodies transformed - they got stronger instantly, literally. Hunger, cold, and discomfort were nothing. There was a happiness in feeling this - in knowing that we can be survival warriors when we have to be. It was liberating and empowering. I guess it´s like what they say about mothers being strong enough to lift a car if it is to save their child's life. It's true. It's amazing.
The world, the rain, life will never be the same after Stan. After our rescue, we were told that there was nothing left in the valley, that nothing could still be standing. For about 12 hours, I was sure that the river had taken our home and that we had lost everything - everything but our lives, and that was more than okay. Our buildings were still standing. Our yard and gardens were destroyed, but our houses were fine. Nevertheless, the effects of those 12 hours of thinking that we´d lost it all were not erased and we will probably never feel the same way about a house again. We detached from our physical belongings. We now know that nothing is set, guaranteed or certain and that home is being together, no matter where we're standing.
My friend Javi woke up first, from the sound of tree trunks hitting the wall of the studio. He woke the others. When they opened the door, they couldn´t beleive what they saw.
Between the two buildings ran a huge river. Both buidings are raised off the ground by about four steps. The water was up to the top steps. Javi and another friend found some rope and set out to cross the river to get my husband, son and myself (we were very asleep at 3am). I hadn´t locked the door, so Javi just came in. I woke up to him screaming that we had to get up and go. I had no idea what was going on. No idea at all.
We had heard a landslide at midnight, but thought it sounded very far away and went to bed in our blissful ignorance of what mud and water are capable of.
Javi said there was no time to get anything, that we had to run. When I stepped out of the house onto the porch I couldn't believe my eyes. Where my fence used to be, there was a four-foot waterfall pouring down from the mountain into our yard. We made it across the river to the studio where the others were untying all the rope from our collection of African drums. My husband hadn´t even had time to put his shoes on. I had only grabbed a blanket to wrap my son in. Everyone was shouting. The noise of the river, rocks, trees, and boulders falling down was unbearable. They all wanted to leave. My husband and I thought it was a crazy idea to run out into the middle of it, but when I heard my friend on the phone to his mother, saying good-bye as though it was the last time he might speak to her - I realized that there was no trying to convince the others to stay. To all stay together seemed to be the most important thing, so we went along with it.
If you´re thinking of volunteering at our project, I don´t want to scare you with this story so I´ll tell you now that we would have been fine had we stayed, and that you won´t have to run out into the middle of a hurricane while you're here.
We couldn´t leave out of the main door of our center because of the river, so we jumped out of a window onto a path that was dry. There were thirteen of us, and just a pair of flashlights. We were running, and the sound of the mountain collapsing behind us made me feel like Indiana Jones in that scene where he´s running for his life with a giant boulder rolling straight for him.
The river had broken into several smaller, but very powerful rivers. They were all over the place. It's very difficult for the mind to process topographical changes in a place that you know very well - especially when it´s home. We reached a point where two rivers met. A tree had fallen over the path and ,to get through, we had to duck under the tree, with the river up to our waists. Once we passed it, we were able to get out of the river and on to a main path. It was all mud. People´s shoes were getting stuck and lost in it.
We walked into the town´s small park and decided to get up onto the covered outdoor stage. It´s all cement, with it´s back to the mountain and a two-story school behind it, so it felt safe. Most of the people in the group were artists, trapped on a stage. About three minutes after getting on the stage, which is about three feet off the ground, there was a deafening sound. A flash flood surrounded the stage with river. It kept on rising. People were yelling. We were on an island in the middle of darkness and loudness. We were soaked. I thought the entire village had been swept away. Maybe we were the only survivors. How long would it take a helicopter to find us there? Would another flash flood come and crush us inside the stage? Would we die from hypothermia? I held my boy tight. I was ready to die.
Someone broke down a little door to a storage room back-stage. There was a wheelbarrow and a pile of wood. We started a fire in the wheelbarrow, dried our clothes and got warm. I was glad we wouldn´t die cold. We were there for three hours - from 3am to 6am.
When day broke, we saw other people in the distance. There was a team of men helping others. One by one, they got us out. When I finally stepped out of the river, there were people standing, under their umbrellas, watching to see who came out. It was surreal.
My son and I stayed with local families for two weeks. My husband decided to come back to the house to protect it from theives that were taking advantage of the evacuated houses to steal whatever they could. Several houses in the river´s path were completely filled with mud, and a few were completely destroyed. All of the roads had collapsed. There was no way in or out of town. Within 24 hours, the local stores had run out of drinking water, batteries, sugar, candles and food.
The families that we stayed with, on a normal day, don´t have enough food for themselves. I would give my son the couple of tortillas that they could offer us and maintained myself on watered-down coffee. At some point, someone gave my son a little bag of chips with cornflakes in it. The image of him walking around, clinging to the little bag, eating one cornflake at a time, will stay with me forever.
Electricity was out for a month. All the water pipes had broken and there was no running water for nearly two months. We had to collect all our water from the river, where we would also bathe waste-deep. During the three years that I´d lived here, the river had never gotten past ankle-depth. We spent a few weeks wondering if we should leave and start our lives somewhere else. We thought and thought, but everywhere we could think of going had something wrong with it. We´d have to drive cars, or get "real" jobs, or live in a city, or face other dangers. In the end, we decided to build a really big wall facing the mountain.
We decided that we´d rather face hurricanes and landslides than leave this place that we built from scratch, with so much love. This is our home. This is where we are.
After giving birth to my son, surviving that night was probably the next most intense experience of my life. I wouldn´t change it for the world. To feel so small, to feel the full force of nature like that, to understand how quickly everything can change - I am grateful for this.
With such present danger, the body knows to switch to survival mode. Our bodies transformed - they got stronger instantly, literally. Hunger, cold, and discomfort were nothing. There was a happiness in feeling this - in knowing that we can be survival warriors when we have to be. It was liberating and empowering. I guess it´s like what they say about mothers being strong enough to lift a car if it is to save their child's life. It's true. It's amazing.
The world, the rain, life will never be the same after Stan. After our rescue, we were told that there was nothing left in the valley, that nothing could still be standing. For about 12 hours, I was sure that the river had taken our home and that we had lost everything - everything but our lives, and that was more than okay. Our buildings were still standing. Our yard and gardens were destroyed, but our houses were fine. Nevertheless, the effects of those 12 hours of thinking that we´d lost it all were not erased and we will probably never feel the same way about a house again. We detached from our physical belongings. We now know that nothing is set, guaranteed or certain and that home is being together, no matter where we're standing.
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