A glancing blow still stings

A man waits with his belongings in his flooded home during the passing of
Hurricane Tomas in Leogane, Haiti. (AP Photo/Ramon Espinosa)

All in all, Haiti was spared the worst of hurricane Tomas over the last 48 hours. The storm took its time in arriving and constantly flip-flopped from being considered a tropical storm or hurricane (though it finally settled on the latter). While the south-west and north were struck with heavy winds and rain, Port-au-Prince was just got rain - and less than expected. Even so, many areas have flooded and six people are reported dead. The country is now trying to coordinate a response to reach those who have been cut off. The UN and government estimate an initial response cost of $14M.

For Tania and I, it was an eerie feeling to experience the anticipation of a hurricane. We both stayed at a house where all of her colleagues live, which is adjacent to a large camp that the NGO serves. Not being able to sleep on Friday night, I spent an hour on the balcony looking up at a thick blanket of shadowy clouds sliding over the city. The rain was light. If my mind hadn't been picturing the internet satellite views that I'd been glued to all day, I would have thought the sky to be a familiar comfort of a Vancouver winter evening. But knowing this was likely just a teasing first view of the storm, I focused on every tree rustle, every rain burst, to try to detect "the real beginning" of the terrible Tomas.

But it didn't come, and I soon went to bed convinced I would hear any significant activity before the worst arrived. When we all got up again at 6am, the rain continued - a bit stronger now - but the wind was silent. By late morning, the sattelite showed that the storm was as close as it would get, about 200km away. Morning turned to afternoon, and still the winds remained calm. By evening the rains picked up again, strengthening to a downpour at about 3am. This was the trailing blow of Tomas, who has since made a slow decline as it heads into open ocean tracking North East.

In the end, the camps in the capital area were spared the tent-shredding winds that were feared. But all that rain amounted to significant flooding in certain coastal areas. Many camps are now filled with mud which will takes days, if not weeks to dry out. And the stagnant water may prove to be an added boost to an already tenacious cholera outbreak that has killed more than 400 people.


It is now Sunday afternoon. The sun is out and music is blaring on the streets of our neighbourhood.
Life goes on. Thanks for all the concerned messages over the last few days!

(Photos from TheJournal.ie)