Barbuda
This is Barbuda. I, like most of you, haven’t heard much about it before today. Their last census was in 2011, but most estimates today place their population at about 1,800 people. That’s about twice the size of the graduating class from my college, or about 6 times the size of the graduating class from my high school.
Barbuda is one of the 2 major islands that make up the Caribbean nation of Antigua and Barbuda. It’s known for its secluded pink- and white-sand beaches like reef-lined Spanish Point, and North Beach, backed by palm trees. In the large Codrington Lagoon, the Frigate Bird Sanctuary is a habitat for huge frigate birds and more than 150 other bird species. Nearby is laid-back Codrington, the only village on the island.
I’ve been in a few hurricanes, and I’ve been lucky to have come through all of them unscathed. I remember being a little kid and hearing the heavy rain on the ceiling and feeling the wind fill the house. Sometimes I’d talk about storms with folks at Kea`au High School and I’d hear about how their roofs had blown away, how their animals had died, how they woke up because their bed had floated across the room. Scary and damn inconvenient, I thought, but also normal. Something to prepare for. Move away from the coast.
Barbuda’s highest elevation is 42 metres (146 ft), part of the highland plateau east of Codrington.
Something I remarked on as I was in New York City during their hurricanes a few years back was that there was consistent guidance and infrastructure. There was community. There were emergency responders everywhere. Some neighborhoods were down, but others were up and active. I brought four dozen bagels and a few pitchers of coffee from my (working) neighborhood down to the workers in the (dark) Wall Street area.
In Hawai`i, I don’t remember this. I remember being in the rainforest and hoping my roof would hold. I remember trying to leave my subdivision after the storm had passed and finding that the road was washed out. My home survived so I was ok.
The island of Barbuda is “literally under water” and “barely habitable” after nearly all of its buildings were destroyed by Hurricane Irma.
Their homes didn’t survive. Part of being on an island is isolation. Island Life. It’s not all beaches; when the infrastructure goes down you can’t try to drive to safety. Can’t walk away. Somebody has to come and rescue you, or you’ll die. The hurricane death toll today is reported at under a dozen, with perhaps only one death on Barbuda. I can’t imagine that’ll hold.
The people and the government of Antigua and Barbuda deserve tremendous credit for their preparedness so far. They’ve made it through a storm more powerful that I’ve ever experienced, they’ve lost a whole island, and they’re looking after their people while bracing for the next storm to hit.
And the media cycle is starting to turn its eye to the next stop down the line: Florida.
But just for this moment, if I’ve got your attention on the small island of Barbuda and its many other Caribbean friends, consider that your focus. Florida has infrastructure that Barbuda never will. Resources you send to Barbuda are uniquely yours — without them, they’d go without; there’s no backup plan out there.
Help where you can. If you’re a boots on the ground sort of fellow, I applaud you and celebrate your heroism wherever they touch down. If you’re a fundraiser like me — if the land is far from your boots — send your food and shelter to the islanders whose infrastructure has just been washed away.
The best resource I’ve found to help out Barbuda right now is their local chapter of the Red Cross. Their main page has be having trouble staying online, so go please go directly to their donation page here:
Does it change your life if you give $10? Probably not. $100? Probably not. Please help an islander out and donate above. After you do so, if you wish, comment below so that I can give you a high five.
Thanks.
- Jude
Update 9/8/2017:
This resource provides a number of other avenues for donating to Barbuda.
