Two years after Felix

Many of you may be unaware of the natural disaster that targeted the Miskito coast 2 years ago on September 4th. It is something that is still very alive and real to the families involved in lobster diving and fishing populating Northern Nicaragua. On September 4th Hurricane Felix touched down over the Cayos Miskito, leveling the fishing villages and taking many of its divers and fishermen with it.

The way the story was told to us was that the severity of the approaching storm was not revealed to the men and women working out at the Cayos. Evacuation was never mentioned. When it was apparent that a massive storm was making its way directly towards the keys, an area with little to no protection from the elements, many attempted to make their way back to shore. Of the boats that departed several were blown back to the key just as they had made progress. Others urged forward into the sea, never to be seen again. We were told that people from the keys decided to congregate at Maras, possibly due to the ring of mangroves that offered a minute amount of protection, and also due to the knowledge that the eye of the storm was to pass directly over Cayo Mikutu. Our boat captain and his crew had all passed the Hurricane at Cayo Maras, and survived. They explained how they filled their boat with people, and drove it into the mangroves, a set of brush-like trees. This was facilitated by the waves that were crashing above the tall trees, driving them into the vegetation. They tied themselves to the boat and prayed that they would make it through the lashing winds and roaring tides. Rigo, said that he was so glad that the storm hit at night, because it would have been such a horrible thing to watch all of the people that he knew and worked with be picked up and flung into the sea. He said the night was filled with screams and tears. When morning broke, the sky and ocean was calm, but all had been destroyed. Not a single house remained. The water was filled with bodies. He told me that of those most affected were the women who worked in the Keys. He estimated that at least 300 died, those who had not made it in a ship back, who feared going back in a ship, or who had stayed in the houses to weather the storm.

As we spent our week at Maras, we were often told stories of the horrible night, of the terrible morning identifying bodies. We were told that many men have dreams in the Keys of women coming up from the water, touching them, crying. People see images in the water. One man told us that while we were there that he had a dream in which a woman’s hair was wrapping around his neck, tighter and tighter, reaching up from the water. He startled awake, sitting bolt upright. Another woman who had not been there during the storm told me that she dreamed of a legless woman, climbing out of the water onto the dock, scooting her body forward with her arms, looking into the room filled with divers hanging in their hammocks. The woman said she peered straight into her eyes, and then she awoke.

I had visited the Keys about two and a half years earlier. They were bustling fishing villages at that time. Cayo Miskutu was so developed that there were churches, a military post, a hotel, many houses, and I am told, Direct TV. When we went to visit the key, there was a startling difference. The mangrove island, once lush and long, was decimated. Barren, grey trunks stuck out from the swampland that was once a green island, reputed to have a fresh water lagoon at its center. The many colorful, open-faced homes were gone. A total of 10-15 houses had been rebuilt. These stood sadly amongst the skeletons of houses past, their wooden posts forcing their heads out of the crystalline water.

We are also told that the harvest of lobster and fish has dramatically declined. Those who have been coming out to these traditional fishing lands for years believe that the high time of the keys has passed. I am honored to have had the opportunity to know these eclectic island, fishing villages, both before and after the storm.