IT’S difficult for residents along coastline communities of St Thomas and Portland to look at the sea – still muddy and filled with booty from their homes – in pretty much the same way they did prior to the passage of Hurricane Dean.

For, the sea which had been their “friend”, providing them with fresh fishes daily, last Sunday became their worst enemy when it dumped huge waves into their homes, destroying most of their belongings and hauling some to the bottom of the ocean.

Throughout the affected communities, residents searched the rubble hoping to identify pieces of clothing, a few sheets of zinc or just a familiar item the water had left behind. Still, many people wondered aloud whether they would ever recover from such devastation.

Some have lost their animals and agricultural crops.

Several residents told the Sunday Observer that this was the worse experience they have had since living close to the sea.

“On Sunday, the sea was my worst enemy; and today it is my best friend because is fishing I survive from,” said Celine Browning, a resident of the Manchioneal community.

As Browning looked at the huge pile of rubble, like her neighbours, she questioned the wisdom of continuing to live so near to the ocean.

“We would relocate, but it would have to be a good location because we don’t want them to put us any and any where because we make our living from the sea,” one resident said.

The residents said they must be able to continue earning a living from the sea, as in many instances they had lost everything.

One young woman and her two small children had no where to go because the storm had destroyed their two-room wooden house.

“Everything mash up,” she said, as a neighbour pointed to her baby stroller buried in mud a few metres from the house.

“Is out ah my house Clare come teck up her TV this morning,” the young woman said.

“But nuh me water barrel that round deh so?” she said pointing, while squinting her eyes to see beneath the rubble. “And see me gas cylinder deh over deh so,” added Browning.

“See the cooler deh from the club across the road,” another resident said.

Throughout the communities residents spotted lost items. But, for the most part, what they found were destroyed.

In every community, women could be seen either washing pieces of muddy clothes or putting out school books to dry. Others just milled around outside pubs, shops or town centres, unsure of what next to do. Edward Burnett, a 84-year-old ex-fisherman sat helplessly on a chair observing repairs to his small wooden house.

Having lived through hurricanes Charlie, Gilbert and Ivan among others, Edward said Hurricane Dean had caused him the most damage by far.

“The breeze was not as strong as Gilbert, but me never know sey the sea could do this much damage,” he said.

“All now me don’t get back to me self,” said another resident, Dwight Burnett, as he shoveled sand from the Eastern Multi-purpose store close by.

“Around minutes to three me see the waves coming. At first, three waves come and level off and then it rolled back out. But then one big wave come and just sweep through everything,” he said.

Maxine Coulson, operator of the store looked around helplessly.

There was much she could not locate, and the items that she found were filled with mud and sand. The neatly stacked shelves she had left Saturday night as she drew down her storm shutters down, were gone.

But even as she contemplated the two million she had borrowed from the bank to stock the business, she was grateful for her life.

“I am just telling myself that I am blessed, even as I am suffering this lost. But I can still see where it could have been more devastating,” she said

Just when it seemed the scenes of devastation could get no worse, the Sunday Observer visited Sandshore Avenue, a community which also sits directly on the sea coast.

The tales were gripping. Some residents were busy removing huge boulders from their homes, deposited there by the waves.. Others stood or sat helplessly on the concrete flooring, the only sign that a house once stood there.

Elaine Burnett, said it is a miracle no lives were lost.

“I was inside cooking my Sunday dinner, and because we had batten down against the breeze we felt it was safe enough to stay during the storm,” she said.

“But before I could finish cooking, I heard a sound and the wave just break down the back door and took away stove and pot out to sea,” Burnet said.

Burnett and her family ran to the front of the house hoping they would be safe there, but soon discovered otherwise.

“Immediately, the wave came again and split the front door and we had to hold on and run out to another house,” she said. But the waves pursued them there, wreaking further damage.

“I tell you, the wave was as high as that light post,” she said, gesticulating.

“If it was night, we would have all died,” she said solemnly.

Cleo Bennett of the Social Development Commission (SDC) said the storm surge was the worse in 40 years of living in Manchioneal.

As in past storms, the residents had taken precaution only against the wind never expecting the surge to rise that high.

Bennett said no lives were lost because many people had evacuated before the storm struck.

At the Manchioneal Police station officers also shared tales of their battle with huge waves and of narrow escapes.

The police officers said Hurricane Dean was the most frightening experience they had ever had.

They said waves as high as 10 feet beat mercilessly against the building.

“When the waves hit, you could feel the building move,” said Royan Brown ,one of seven police on duty last Sunday.

Many times they gave up hope of making it out alive.

Brown said that at one point the front door was nearly blown off. “We had to hold on to it, and get a neck tie and tie it up,” he recalled.

When that did not help, a few officers attempted to get downstairs for a hammer, but beat a hasty retreat after the water level rose.

After the waves retreated, the offices said they ventured into to the nearby town to prevent looting, and were almost killed in the process.

“As we were walking on the road, all of a sudden I saw a big wave coming and all I could do was drop on me knees and allow the wave to go over me,” Brown said.

His female colleague did not respond as quickly, and narrowly missed being washed away. “The wave hit her down and she was being washed out to sea, and is the sergeant who held on to her,” he recounted.

Constable Everton Harris told the Sunday Observer that the road immediately in front of the station had been severely eroded, but said the situation was remedied somewhat by dumping up the area.

The courthouse on the ground floor was littered with debris, sand and broken furniture. A cleaning lady worked tirelessly to sweep and wash mud from the upper floor. Downstairs it would take much more than a broom to rid the room of what the sea had dumped there.

In Duhaney Pen, St Thomas, the stories were no different.

A couple struggled to removed a water soaked and mud clogged mattress from a house, to the nearby river.

Nearby, another man solicited the help of friends to remove several wheelbarrows of debris from inside the house. He could not find some of his possessions as the sea had taken them away.

He, however, vowed to rebuild and continue.

Yet another resident bemoaned the fate of his 70-odd-year-old mother, who had to be staying with relatives. All that was left of her house was red concrete floor. A massive tree trunk, which would not be easily removed, lay close by. The residents told the Sunday Observer that the sea had brought the tree and deposited it at that spot.

Wayne Kesto shares, with neighbours, his intention of finding somewhere else to live.

“Is a piece of land me going to bush out now. Me not living back here because is the sea we live in,” he said.

Junior, another resident, said he never expected the sea to damage the community as it did.

“Me underestimate this thing due to the movements of Ivan when the water never come this far,” he said.

Pieces of muddy furniture littered his yard. He had salvaged a few pieces of board and erected a temporary shelter for his family.

He had been living there for the last 12 years, and had eked out a living from a cabinet shop at the back of his house.

But in a few hours it was all gone.

“Ah don’t know where to begin from here,” Junor said, echoing the sentiments of scores of residents in the affected communities.

He is somewhat hopeful that he would receive some assistance from relief agencies, but he is not holding his breath.