September 16 – Day 2 After the Storm
My friend from the complex came over to check on me. She hadn’t endured the storm as badly as I had, and together, we walked over to her place to use her landline. I left a message for my family, never imagining it would be the last time I’d reach out to them for a long while. Their answering machine picked up, but oh, how I wished I could have heard their voices.
After cleaning up for a bit, we decided to take a drive. The destruction was beyond belief—power lines tangled like fallen branches, palm trees uprooted, signs twisted and scattered across the streets. The devastation was so overwhelming that we turned back almost immediately.
That night, we went to bed early, exhausted and uncertain, planning to continue cleaning in the morning before heading into town. I nearly forgot to mention—the damage wasn’t just to infrastructure. Buildings had crumbled, and looters were already raiding the corner store.
We woke at dawn and set out for town, uncertain of what we’d find. I thanked God for my four-wheel drive; a regular car wouldn’t have made it through. Mudslides from flash floods had buried the highway under two feet of thick, heavy sludge. Power lines lay sprawled across the road like fallen giants. Buildings weren’t just damaged—they were gone.
I stopped by my coworker’s place to check on her. She lived alone with her beloved fur babies, but she wasn’t home—or at least, she didn’t answer. Her dogs were outside, waiting. I made a mental note to return the next day.
At my workplace, shattered windows gaped open, and water pooled across the floors. No one was there. While assessing the damage, I ran into my friend Tony and a few others. We exchanged news—none of it good. The power might be out for a month. Cell service was completely down. Worse, without electricity, we couldn’t pump water. No running water meant no easy way to clean, cook, or even drink. The gravity of our situation sank in—we had little food and even fewer supplies. I had never expected things to be this bad.
Rumors spread fast. People were organizing to loot Walmart, Sam’s Club, and possibly Costco. This was only the second day, and desperation was already setting in. The military was present, but rather than intervene, they simply opened the store doors, allowing people to take essential food and supplies.
Then reality hit me: I had only half a tank of gas. Why hadn’t I filled up before the storm? How could I have been so unprepared? The regret gnawed at me.
At least we had 12 gallons of clean drinking water, enough to last if we were careful. We also had Costco-sized packs of baby wipes—thank you, Kyrstin, for that unintentional survival tip. They would be our showers for the foreseeable future.
Our gas stove was our saving grace. Though the power was out, we had a cistern with water we could boil for cooking. With the freezer thawing and the fridge warming, we decided to make the most of what we had—tomorrow’s breakfast would be a feast of eggs and bacon before it all spoiled.
News trickled in: Only one working cell tower remained in La Paz, two hours away. Flights were grounded indefinitely—the airport had been decimated. Power restoration could take weeks. The stores were being emptied. If this continued, we might have to abandon everything and leave.
To make matters worse, the relentless humidity was swelling the doors, leaving them unable to close. Mosquitoes buzzed around us, bringing the looming threat of dengue. And as if we hadn’t suffered enough, we heard rumors of another storm brewing on the horizon.
My home looked like a war zone. It was suffocatingly hot, and there was no safe place to shelter from the next storm. Fear gnawed at the edges of my exhaustion. Would people start looting homes next? We had no way to protect ourselves. And without work, I had no income. Everything felt impossibly heavy.
But tomorrow, we would face the fight again. Because what else could we do?
