Living through storm that devastated Jamaican lives

Hurricane Melissa's wind thrashed and howled louder than a scream. Inside my home, voices whispered urgently as we frantically called family in south Saint Elizabeth, Jamaica, “You’ve reached the voicemail box of...” repeating relentlessly.

- JENELLE SAMUELS

When we finally got through, only my grandfather answered, crouched in his bathtub with a towel, pillow and sheet covering him, the wind pounding at his roof, lifting and ripping through the zinc.

Water seeped into his bedroom as he spoke fearfully through the static, and I knew he felt as if he was already drowning. My uncle, fearing his father - my grandfather - had been flooded or worse, braved the hurricane's fury, darting between trees for cover as the wind clawed and stung his body. When he reached him, my 81-year-old grandfather - who I had never seen or heard cry - sobbed at the sight of his son coming to save him.

Our local WhatsApp groups buzzed at first as the hurricane had approached. Videos, voice notes and pictures flowed like breaking news. The wind first whispered through the trees, and Jamaica collectively held its breath as reports confirmed that Melissa had made landfall. Then a torrent of media: homes washing away in mudslides, death, people clawing at walls, screens from Jamaican, British, American and French news showing floods, people fleeing the sinking homes they had built.