Day Two....

Day Two.

Today we worked. 

The sun did rise again over St. John.  But not for long.  Apathetic rain clouds roll in letting only enough light through to reveal the work in store for us.  Along the distant hillside brave, industrious crews are thirty feet up, already busy erecting new power poles and replacing downed power lines but they are still a long way from our neighborhood.  I open two solar panels and connect them to a charger to help us recharge cell phones and a laptop as well as a portable lantern which will be our only source of light tonight.  Our phones show a strong cell signal but only at the far end of our deck so communications have to be done outside. Please don't rain!

Our gutters were blown off our house and are scattered in pieces all over our property.  Because we rely on rainwater landing on our roof to be collected by our gutter system and stored in a cistern under our house, we have a water problem.  Lifting a heavy floor plate allows an opening just big enough for me to squirm into this dark cavern which is only half full.  Toni laughingly hands me three buckets which I lower into this abyss and retrieve enough water for us to take a cold shower.  And for her to wash her hair.  We spend much of the day salvaging gutter pieces into a makeshift network which will collect enough water for our needs for now.  Please rain!

We realize much of the debris is from our neighbor's home which was demolished by what probably was a tornado.  A friend tells us there were many tornado cells within the hurricane and witnesses watched helplessly as the twisters shared in the random destruction.  Under the curious eyes of our iguanas, piece by piece we collect the debris, trudge it up the steep hillside covered with loose rocks to our growing pile of junk and deposit it there.  Twisted metal panels, splintered boards, parts of our neighbor's roof.  A sofa cushion we don't recognize.  Not sure who will help us carry it off, or when, or to where.  It is a Caribbean CrossFit Class but it feels good to do something.  

A team of disaster assistance island volunteers surprises us with some basic supplies.  Like gifts for the Magi, they parade down our stone staircase bearing six gallon jugs of water, cleaning supplies, joyful smiles and more news about the storms and the status of the community.  They are energized by our arrival and our spirits are boosted by their optimism.  A generator gets delivered but it doesn't work which is okay because it is a noise and environmental pollutant.  There is talk of Kenny Chesney generosity, Bloomberg philanthropy, Musk's Tesla batteries, and how this will happen again so we need better energy solutions.

The St. Johnians are patient and kind and focused on the challenges ahead.  A St. John Strong stranger smiles and says "One Love."  A beat up car drives by; its license plate reads "GR8FUL".  Another goes by with a bumper sticker "Positive Is How I Live."  We offer to help others but they say they are doing okay for now.  Another reason we love this place. 

On our way into town we dodge a few chickens trying to cross the road, pick up a hitchhiker named "Jamaikee", then devour one of the best dinners we've eaten in recent memory at one of the few restaurants open.  Happy to be contributing to the economic recovery, we share a bottle of wine, then retreat to our home.  I kill another scorpion with my dive knife, this time cutting him in half, and watch his top half crawl away like a zombie before I scoot into the safety of our bed.  Like vengeful vultures, two mosquitoes glare hungrily at us from outside our net.  Watching. Always watching. But we are too tired to wonder whether they are Zika carriers.  

It is dark.  Our aching bodies tell us to rest a while and finally our busy minds give in to sleep.