On September 20th, 2017, Hurricane Maria made landfall in Puerto Rico. The category four storm with winds of 155 mph entered the island through the southeast early in the morning and exited through the northwest in the afternoon. Total estimated damages are said to be in the billions, and they’re still debating about the exact number of fatalities caused by the storm. The island lost electricity and access to tap water for months. Communications were down. Roads were inaccessible. In a blink of an eye, the people of Puerto Rico suddenly found themselves living in conditions similar to almost a century ago.
During my recent trip to Puerto Rico to visit my family, one of the most shocking things for me to see was how in many areas the vegetation and topography had changed due to the massive deforestation caused by the storm.
“When we came out for the first time after the hurricane had passed, it looked like if someone had dropped an atomic bomb,” my father recounted. “That hill there,” he pointed to a hill across from the yard, “was completely cleaned, the trees burned. There was nothing left.”
My parents have been living in that house in the town of Toa Alta for over 30 years. Even after so many years, my mother added, “I saw houses up on the hill that I’ve never seen before.” Those houses once tucked away up on a hill surrounded by dense green vegetation were all of a sudden exposed, some even without roofs or windows.
I have to honestly say that during my visit I found the island better than expected. While there are still various buildings and houses still with visible damages, some even not rebuilt at all, the majority of the island looks okay. When driving around one may encounter several street lights off, light posts laid down on the side of the roads, and fences torn. However, most businesses are open, and consumers are spending. Resturants seemed full; crowds filled the shopping malls and traffic on the roads was heavy. The people of the island were determined to get back up on their feet. Carrying the mantra “Puerto Rico se levanta” or “Puerto Rico gets back up,” they came together to aid each other in solidarity. Neighbors who barely spoke to each other shared resources and supplies. Families shared houses, and restaurants fed those who couldn’t cook at home.
The remarkable resiliency of the people of Puerto Rico was evident everywhere. One specific story that impacted me though was from Aikido Shiyuukan Dojo del Norte in Arecibo. The hurricane’s eye exited the island through Isabela, a town merely 30 minutes away from the dojo. Of all the places I visited, Arecibo was by far the one that looked worst. I visited the dojo to participate in a small Aikido seminar led by Bob Garza Sensei from Sosei Aikido Kyokai in Chicago. The dojo was left underwater after the hurricane.
“Do you see that water stained on the wall?”, asked Javier Jerez, the dojo’s chief instructor, pointing to water stains that ran across from the back wall about eight feet from the floor. “That’s how much water was in here.”
They lost everything. The canvas mat was lifted off the floor and slammed against the walls. The kamiza, or main wall, lost all of its ornaments including the picture of the founder and the Aikido calligraphy scroll. All of the wooden swords and staffs used in Aikido weapons training were left soaked in water and rotten. Because the water that flooded the building came from the river, once the water went down the dojo was left full of mud, dirt, and debris that members had to shovel out before any reconstruction could take place.
At the sight of such disaster and loss, many would’ve thought the end of their training had come. No way they could recover from this. But they did. Garza Sensei fundraised some money to help them rebuild. I was graciously asked to brush a new Aikido scroll for them, and all the members came together to dug all the dirt out, clean and restore the dojo. They didn’t do any of it because they wanted to, they did because they had to. Their love for their community and the art of Aikido was stronger than a hurricane. They felt it was their duty to reopen the dojo against all the odds and resume training. Remarkably in less than four months, students were able to bow to the kamiza to begin practice for the first time since the storm, and less than a year later they hosted a weekend-long seminar. They shared with me their stories and their struggles, but most importantly they shared with me their Aikido. Although the dojo still has some ceiling tiles missing, no AC, water stains on the walls, and temporary mats, everyone trained hard with strong spirit and joy. I left the seminar contemplating on my struggles and realizing how lucky and blessed I am for what I have. It was indeed a humbling experience.
All too often we, humans, act like hurricanes ourselves. We live as if everything revolves around us, like clouds and winds gusting around a hurricane eye. We storm through our days unaware of the damage we leave behind. Unfortunately, it takes disasters like these for humans to come together and act as one species instead of thinking along political views, gender, religious beliefs, or social status. I left Puerto Rico wishing we could reach that state of mind without having a traumatic experience. There are many challenges still left to overcome for the people of Puerto Rico. While things are okay, they are far away from being back to pre-Maria days. But, I wonder, do they want to go back to the way things were, or do they want to build a better and stronger Puerto Rico? I hope for the latter rather than the former. On my next visit, I look forward to the flags still flapping everywhere, to the street vendors back on the side of the roads, and the sound of breakfalls at the dojo.