Riding the wake of a hurricane: 12 hours in Antigua and Barbuda

By Adrian Ghobrial

The word came down Thursday evening. Pack a bag you’re jumping on board a humanitarian flight to Antigua and Barbuda.

In the world of local news, international stories are about as rare as a solar eclipse, so I grabbed a hold of this astronomical opportunity and jumped in head first.

Armed with an iPhone, some basic equipment and the bare essentials stuffed into a knapsack, off I went. Unaware of what truly lied ahead.

THE FLIGHT: 6PM FRIDAY

Packed mostly with excited vacationers, I boarded the flight with a team from Toronto’s Global Medic who are delivering nearly 9,000 pounds of vital aid, two men from Aero Vision Canada, who will be using drones to survey the damage on Barbuda, and four other journalists.

Running a couple hours behind schedule we drop off the eager passengers in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic.

We don’t touch down in St. Johns Antigua until around 1 a.m. and crews begin unloading boxes filled with everything from hygiene kits to construction equipment.

HITTING THE ROAD: 6AM SATURDAY

With only 12 hours available to us on the ground before flying home, I set off at sunrise with my driver, the wonderful Ocia, in search of Barbudans who survived the strongest storm ever recorded in the Atlantic after being evacuated to their sister island of Antigua.

Antigua was nearly untouched by Irma, while just 45 kilometres northwest Barbuda was destroyed. Ninety nine per cent of the buildings have been damaged and 90 per cent of the power knocked out.

Our first stop is to a school which has been transformed into one of the official shelters on the Island. I sat down with some Barbudan elders and heard their stories about riding out the strongest Hurricane ever recorded in the Atlantic.

CRICKET STADIUM SHELTER: 8:30AM

On the surface, life in Antigua appears to be moving along per usual, though when you scratch the surface you find a moving display of humanity.

Everyone knows someone on the island involved in the relief effort.

Nowhere is the local effort more apparent than inside the Sir Vivian Richards Cricket stadium, where volunteers are moving mountains.

Around the clock they work to deliver the necessities of life, as well as some form of comfort to the more than 150 evacuees of all ages inside.

The mantra from many Barbudans is to ride out the tide, and one of gratitude. These people are survivors.

Though one can’t help but wonder how cordial evacuees will become after sleeping on the floor side by side in the coming weeks and months.  

Airport: 11AM

The Global Medic team and two other journalists, along with myself, are scheduled to fly back with the Sunwing crew at 12 p.m. Though we’re told government ministers have come to speak with us.

After being pointed in several directions at the airport we find ourselves in a VIP room, where several government ministers await our arrival.

The minister of tourism has a clear message — Antigua is open for business. Please travel here so your tax dollars can help us foot the cost to rebuild.

Toronto: 7PM

With the adrenaline of a whirlwind trip quickly fading upon arrival at Pearson International, and with a moment to reflect, it becomes painfully evident how easy it could be for the international community to forget the people of Barbuda.

The focus of major news networks shifted once Irma made landfall in the United States. Once all the North American tourists are back home from their frightening Caribbean adventures what then?  

The island of Barbuda has been decimated. A civilization that has existed there for more than 300 years has now been all but extinguished.

It’s future has been left blowing in the wind.

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