Hurricane blues

Lance Neita, Contributor

With Tomas playing hide and seek up to Tuesday (when this article was written), Jamaicans are on edge as we try to track the whereabouts of this late-season storm.

To have a hurricane or even a tropical storm in November is unusual, and to arrive at the letter 'T' in the alphabetical order is almost unbelievable.

On Sunday morning, we prayed for deliverance but we were also caught up in the quandary of another disaster in the making for Haiti, so the prayers of the nation are not just for a change of direction, but for a breakdown of the storm.

The 1951 hurricane did not give us much time for prayers. Indeed, it was just another hot, quiet summer's day in Jamaica on Friday, August 17, when out of the blue the hurricane warnings, sirens and radio announcements started to confirm what had been uncertain forecasts the day before.

A news brief from the Miami Weather Office had reported on Thursday that "the first hurricane of the season had boiled up in the Leeward Islands".

Hit and run

The Gleaner broke the startling news on Friday morning that "The hurricane reported in the Eastern Caribbean yesterday may hit Jamaica this evening." The Weather Office played a bit of hit and run, advising that "The hurricane has an equal chance of hitting Jamaica direct or passing to the north or to the south."

That was enough to bring out the hammers and nails as people started to batten down and prepare for the 'breeze blow'.

Still, it was a familiar, ordinary Jamaican day with the House of Representatives going on recess and with a nice retroactive pay package announced for the members.

A deportee had just made the news. One Ferdinand Smith, a Jamaican and former leader of the American Maritime Union, had been named as a communist and deported from the United States to England. The British Colonial Office commented stiffly that "We have never heard of Smith and we certainly do not know why he should have been sent here. It is really most peculiar."

That Friday, the sun was out all day, but there was an ominous quiet as we approached sunset, and from my country perch as a little boy in Clarendon there was an eerie red glow in the west during the long-day evening period before the sun dropped.

Back in Kingston, the Gaiety was showing Baghdad starring Vincent Price while Randolph Scott was pulling in the crowds at Tivoli in The Walking Hills. The Bournemouth Club was tuning up for Friday evening dancing to the Roy Coburn Orchestra.

Damage

For a moment, we thought it wouldn't come, but that fateful night saw the hurricane ripping through Jamaica leaving over 150 dead and millions of pounds of damage. Morant Bay was destroyed and Port Royal laid flat as the 125 miles per hour winds raged. The Gleaner described the horror in its usual picturesque and detailed language.

"The driving rain increased the terror of the darkened, storm-lashed night and women and children huddled and prayed in rain-washed wall corners. On the waterfront, ships tossed upon mountainous waves and smashed themselves against each other and against the berths and piers."

The storm vented its fury mostly on the southern parishes, but across the island bananas, fruit trees, crops, coconuts, houses, roads, animals were wiped out from the onslaught.

Lady Foot, wife of Governor Hugh Foot, was stranded in her car on Giltress Street in Rollington Town and sheltered in a house during the height of the blow. Mr and Mrs Norman Manley were marooned in their cottage 'Bellevue' above Mavis Bank, and had to cut their way through fallen trees and blocked roads to get back to Kingston the following day.

The memories of that night come walking all over my mind whenever a hurricane threatens.

Comments may be sent to columns@gleanerjm.com or lanceneita@hotmail.com