Jorge’s family haven’t had electricity for two weeks, the water supply arrives on occasional tankers, and mosquito-borne illnesses are rampant.
In the evacuation centre, 18 people are suffering from a fever.
In the east, where Melissa swept through, such illnesses have been heaping misery on those trying to rebuild.
Miguel Ángel Rodríguez, 31, is a social worker at Grito de Yara’s evacuation centre.
In the meantime, she sleeps on a thin mattress at the evacuation centre.
The early November weather in eastern Cuba is still as hot as summer, so Maidel Jorge, a 36-year-old farmer, perspires while cutting down a tree to gather wood for cooking. It will take longer to burn and prepare their meal because the tree was young and the wood is green.
A school in Grito de Yara, Granma province, has been converted into an evacuation center for 300 people, including Jorge, his pregnant wife, and their six-year-old son. These individuals are among the 3 million Cubans who were exposed to Hurricane Melissa, which struck the country last month.
The water supply is delivered by tankers on occasion, mosquito-borne illnesses are common, and Jorge’s family hasn’t had electricity for two weeks. Eighteen people in the evacuation center have fevers. They simply refer to it as “the virus,” but no one is certain which it is.
Jorge says of the hurricane’s attack, “It was awful.”. “All was gone. The “.
He lost two oxen, a 100 kg pig, corn, beans, and sweet potatoes, but his clapboard home survived. One hen managed to survive. The biggest damage was brought on by flooding rather than wind or rain.
Melissa, one of the strongest storms to ever make landfall in the Caribbean, hit the island last month as a category 3 hurricane, but no fatalities were reported. However, the storm caused some rural areas to receive more than 38 cm (15 inches) of rain, and the ensuing floods made conditions even worse for many Cubans.
Cuba has been experiencing an economic crisis for the past four years. Many people’s prospects have been reduced to an exhausted wait for better times due to aggressive US sanctions, failed internal policies, and the effects of the coronavirus pandemic.
People in rural Cuba had to deal with 20-hour blackouts and a shortage of necessities like food and medicine long before Melissa struck. Recently, viruses linked to mosquitoes and sandflies, including chikungunya, dengue, oropouche, and zika, have increased as a result of the government’s once-impressive eradication efforts failing.
Chikungunya, which rarely results in death but can cause a week-long fever and excruciating joint pain, has been particularly bad in Cuba in recent months.
In July of last year, alerts were first issued in Matanzas, in the heartland of Cuba. By late October, 13,000 new cases of fever had been reported nationwide in a single week, according to health officials. However, the government formally declared the outbreak to be an epidemic, and recent reports indicate that one-third of Cubans may be infected.
Such illnesses have been causing suffering for those attempting to rebuild in the east, where Melissa swept through. For the past two weeks, Leanet Pérez, a 21-year-old teacher from Cauto del Paso, which is 3 kilometers (1.86 miles) from Grito de Yara, and her family have been evacuated to a cousin’s home in Bayamo.
When they got home, they saw devastating scenes that brought them to tears. Their home was inundated and hardly standing due to its proximity to the Cauto River. ρ quickly developed chikungunya. She relies on the paracetamol her sister gives her, uses alcohol compresses to reduce the fever, and has had difficulty getting up. Many families who lack access to medications and repellents have been compelled to use natural remedies.
The largest dam in the province, Cauto del Paso, began to overflow the day after the hurricane hit, releasing 4,000 cubic meters per second at the height of the flood, according to state officials. Since then, the water levels have stayed high, resulting in sludge-covered homes and unpleasant pools that serve as mosquito breeding grounds.
Miguel Rodríguezel Rodríguez, 31, works as a social worker at the evacuation center in Grito de Yara. He travels to small towns with his colleagues in order to collect data to provide to the authorities. “I am heartbroken by all the harm I have witnessed,” he declares. “I am at a loss for words. The “.
Mattresses, clothing, and electrical appliances were swept away when the floods swiftly overtook homes in Cauto del Paso.
Now, the paths are covered in thick mud, making it difficult for tractors to move. Two vultures peck at a dead horse while traveling. The local cemetery’s elevated graves give the impression that they are floating in a swamp.
Wood smoke rises from Grito de Yara’s backyards and balconies at sunset. Richer families use charcoal to cook when there is no electricity for longer than two weeks.
“Cooking with butane gas is only for the wealthy here,” says 42-year-old teacher Yudelkis Alarcón, who grew up in the village. Her four-year-old son needs to be given saline solution at the nearby polyclinic because he has “the virus.”.
To keep mosquitoes away, other fires are started. In February, Dayana Álvarez, Jorge’s 20-year-old wife, is expected to give birth. Melissa will be her baby girl’s name, she says. It is customary for children born in Cuba during hurricanes to be named after the weather phenomenon.
She spends the time at the evacuation center sleeping on a thin mattress. She hopes that by the time they welcome baby Melissa, things will improve, “at least somewhat.”. The “.
