0Ricardo Makyn/Staff Photographer
Residents walk by what is left of a roof that was blown off a house in Long Bay, Portland during Tropical Storm Gustav.

Athaliah Reynolds, Staff Reporter

SOME MIGHT argue that at least once during every individual's lifetime, he or she will have what could be regarded as a near-death experience.

But while this, for many, might not be deemed as such, I can say that for the one hour and 20 minutes it lasted, several chapters from my relatively short life flashed before my eyes.

"Lawd Jesus! A yah so mi really a go come dead?" asked Gleaner correspondent for Portland, Gareth Davis, from the rear of the vehicle.

Gareth, photographer Ricardo Makyn and I are seated inside the company's Rav4 SUV, patiently watching as the wind assaults a huge sheet of zinc it has just ripped off a nearby house.

We are parked along a narrow road in the community of Long Bay, Portland, taking refuge behind the wall of an Esso gas station.

The road is deserted. The only signs of life are the violently swaying trees and Jamaica Public Service (JPS) electric wires as they dangle in the wind. A meagre dog slowly makes his way down the pathway, searching, I assume, for a dry place to ride out the storm.

Our mission was to travel to Manchioneal to investigate earlier reports of flooding in the seaside town. That mission, however, had to be aborted as our path became blocked by several limbs that had been viciously torn from coconut trees that once lined the roadway.

Business

It didn't take long after Makyn turned around the vehicle, with hopes of heading back to Port Antonio, for us to realise that 'Sir' Gustav, though only just a tropical storm, meant business.

"You feel that?" he asked, referring to a sharp and sudden rocking of the vehicle.

"Is the wind a shake the car so?" I asked.

"Weh yuh think?" interjected Gareth from his seat at the back.

Swerving into the middle of the road to manoeuvre our way around heaps of sand that had been dumped in our path by the sea, we watched as waves at least 30 feet high crashed on to the land.

With the sea to one side and the wind attempting to topple the SUV, we realised our only hope was to seek shelter behind the sturdy-looking wall of the small gas station.

Two rotting poles

Minutes later, however, we begin to question our decision, as we realise we're parked between two rotting JPS poles. From the look of things it is certain they could be ripped apart at any time.

Our vehicle made a quick rock to the side again as the wind picked up speed, seemingly howling angrily at us.

"Me a mek sure call mi wife and tell har seh mi love har, eh nuh," murnured Gareth, as he dialed his wife's number on his cellular phone.

"Tell everybody mi love dem in case mi nuh see you again," he said, as his wife answered the call.

"Bredrin, a fret yuh a fret?" questioned Makyn.

Before Gareth could reply, a heavy gust of wind ripped the roofing from a car-repair shop just a few feet from our SUV. Seconds later, the top of the gas station sailed across the top of our vehicle and into the dark sky, lodging itself into the electric wires.

The pole, which we've been keenly watching for some time, immediately breaks in half, falling atop a house just a few feet from our car.

"Baby I love you, you hear," whispered a voice beside me.

This time, it was Ricardo on the phone to his wife.

"Ricardo, a yuh wife yuh a call? How yuh a gwaan like yuh never fraid?" I asked as I erupted in laughter.

"You stay deh nuh call yuh mother and tell her something," he replied.

An hour later as we wait out the last few minutes of Gustav's onslaught on Portland, we notice several individuals mercilessly looting a bar adjoining the gas station.

Torn away

The roof and the outer walls of the wooden structure had been completely torn away by Gustav's fury and residents were taking advantage of their good luck, making off with crates of Guinness, boxes of cranberry juice and even furniture.

We watch as a tall, lanky man bolted down the road with a small table, skillfully dipping his head as it narrowly missed making contact with a flying sheet of zinc.

As the winds calmed, we departed our place of safety, and,with the assistance of several men from the community, cleared our path of fallen tree trunks and other debris that had been flung into the roadway by Gustav. We drove back to Kingston, lodging away the tale of our encounter with Gustav in Long Bay, Portland, as just another day on the job.