On October 1, 2015 Hurricane Joaquin descended on the central and southeastern Bahamas. The storm was the stuff of nightmares for the thousands of unsuspecting residents on Crooked Island, Acklins, Long Cay, San Salvador, Rum Cay and Long Island.
It left a path of destruction on those islands and for many it was the worst storm they had ever experienced. There were scores of stories of people crouching in ceilings, sitting on bone-fish boats and even clinging to trees to survive 12 foot surges. There were no deaths on the islands.
Following its exit from The Bahamas, I visited San Salvador and Rum Cay. Two days later I visited Crooked Island, the home of my father. I was only on the island for a few hours before I had to leave. It was, as I wrote in my story, like a war zone. I’ve been visiting Crooked since I was in the fifth grade. It’s the island of my childhood. I learned to ride a bicycle on Crooked; I learned to swim, and I learned about Bob Marley. It was the island of my childhood and it was destroyed. I went back for a few days on November 4. This is what I saw.