׉?4ׁB!בCט88pu׉׉ 7cassandra://TBNTQ276TWadSNS6CTK0N1iHCxEgO3mxtsge_r9kN3s+`׉ 7cassandra://o5o-cjhX69KM8Z77W8vN2n7XRZWODZjos5iNO_QkzGQͯ`t׉ 7cassandra://9GVEolAM2i2vDDzAhMCFMWChDVY74l9V0GFM2qCYDFw;G`hnL:a/_,1ט8pu׈8Q,$׈EhnL:a/_+׉E1 July, 2025 Volume 6, Issue 4 M any of the photographs in this Special Hurricane Edition of the CARICAD Horizon were graciously donated by Gregory King, a resident of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, just after the arrival of Hurricane Beryl in the region. CARICAD reminds everyone to take all of the necessary precautions to avoid this level of destruction as we continue to keep those affected in our prayers. ׉ 7cassandra://9GVEolAM2i2vDDzAhMCFMWChDVY74l9V0GFM2qCYDFw;G`hnL:a/_+hnL:a/_+ppבCט8pu׉׉ 7cassandra://4Y4uLnHejjkwFsz98cExovr6opv3Evpkte6eo-wpmyM`׉ 7cassandra://ARtCPcdLzblGuvsvoKyUlc0JiPSA_DcBhKkiMblehqk͘`t׉ 7cassandra://L0gPzbtembGjm1qC3EadTC8nzeO7_V56XWS8-1AVJ6U2f`hnL:a/_,Aט88pu׉׉ 7cassandra://OoLmnNVw3U1DwFZUBtTPljR-xDeDOmr4KZwpCE1yB88zS`׉ 7cassandra://b7stehQ2iIBeBFl0XBxinAMyBmXyd5lYWtfK703wVBk`t׉ 7cassandra://aLR1F67JWHaQgeSx9wZPLwX_2HZ9qHK0OXHgB7BH6Ew6,`hnL:a/_,BנhnL:a/_,4a~9׉SG ׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,5b3~9׉SG ׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,6 ̐9׉SG ׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,7:̼z9׉SG ׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,8D&9׉SG ׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,9D~9׉SG ׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,:B9׉SG ׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,;D9׉SG ׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,<D%~9׉SG ׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,=Dȁj:9׉SG ׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,>B\9׉SG ׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,?B79׉SG ׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,@DH*9׉S G ׁ ׁ r׉E2 Storm damage in the Grenadines. (Photos by Gregory King) CLICK ON ANY OF OUR ARTICLES TO GO DIRECTLY Pages 4-6 TO THAT ARTICLE Pages 7-9 ׉ 7cassandra://L0gPzbtembGjm1qC3EadTC8nzeO7_V56XWS8-1AVJ6U2f`hnL:a/_+׉E3 NOTE: (CARICAD’s Supplementary Associate Franklyn Michael was deputed by the Executive Director to write this article.) T he advent of the 2025 Hurricane season reminds us that we will not only be challenged by the headwinds of global trade changes and the fall-out from various conflicts but potentially, by the real winds of storms and hurricanes. In his book, Crunch Point: The 21 Secrets to Succeeding When It Matters Most (AMACOM, 2006), management and personal success expert Brian Tracy writes: “It is estimated that every business has a crisis every two to three months that, if not handled quickly and effectively, can threaten the very survival of the enterprise. And each person has a crisis — personal, financial, family or health — every two or three months that can knock you off center as well.” The information in the bullets below was shared recently in a webinar by CARICAD’s strategic partner Caribbean Catastrophe Risk Insurance Facility — CCRIF SPC. • Apart from natural hazard risks, Caribbean countries are also subject to a myriad of other risks. • These risks oftentimes do not stop at individual island national borders but are part of a complex globally interconnected system – for example, the risks associated with climate change are borderless. • Adaptation to this compendium of risks places enormous pressure on regional governments, who are charged with the responsibility of maintaining critical infrastructure while balancing lives and economic livelihoods under increasing budgetary constraints. • Within this context, prioritising risks and the actions necessary for effective adaptation becomes a point of concern. Risk management is a process which governments can harness to determine their priorities in advance and in order where possible to minimise risks. • Risk Management involves a thorough examination of current situations, as well as a constant awareness of the ever-changing risk landscape, and offers insight into opportunities and mechanisms which can be used to anticipate, adapt to and mitigate against present and future risks. We often make the assertion that Risk is of greater concern to the private sector than the public sector but is that really so? Think of the experiences that our region has gone through since 2020. Start with the COVID-19 pandemic and then continue to volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, high temperatures, droughts and Hurricane Beryl. I invite you to reflect on the tariffs imposed on trading partners by the USA and the implications of the repatriation of Caribbean nationals from the USA. Those reminders should be enough for us to take time to ponder the importance of Risk for the Public sector. We are moving into an era in which Risks are not only highly probable but have great potential negative impacts. We are indeed in the era of polycrises. That term "polycrisis" has been attributed to French philosopher Edgar Morin in his 1993 book, Terre-Patrie, and has been popularised by historian Adam Tooze. Devon Rowe, Executive Director CARICAD CARICAD is advocating for a renewed emphasis on Leadership and Management for Mindset Change. Our new realities require a new mindset in the public sector. The polycrisis realities are different, the implications and consequences of risk-driven work are different. We are rapidly moving away from a peoplefocused world to a technology-dependent world. Clearly, advances in technology have brought great efficiencies to all aspects of life but our level of Risk may now be even greater. Constant exposure to storms and hurricanes is part of that Risk. CARICAD continues to produce our special hurricane season edition of our newsletter in the hope that we will be stimulating thought and promoting a commitment to action on the part of public sector leaders/managers. Those leaders/managers may not decide on policy, but they research and present information and advice to Ministers as individuals and Cabinet as a whole that may ultimately determine policy stances on matters relating to Risks. The Leadership/Management interface is what often determines how much we are able to reduce the negative consequences of risks and how quickly we can resume our journey on the road to Resilience. When it comes to preparing for storms and hurricanes each year we must embrace our responsibilities at every level — individual, family, organisational, neighbourhood, community and country. This 2025 edition of our newsletter seeks to promote and reinforce the importance of readiness at all levels. However, I invite us to consider using a similar mindset to that with which we prepare for storms and hurricanes as the foundation for the mindset we need to face and respond to all Risks. We must not only Prepare but we must Perform and Transform. ׉ 7cassandra://aLR1F67JWHaQgeSx9wZPLwX_2HZ9qHK0OXHgB7BH6Ew6,`hnL:a/_+hnL:a/_+ppבCט8pu׉׉ 7cassandra://TolrYrfu_JH2OA2acLxX_SL3BXNoXOBmb1Fc2PhF60g$M`׉ 7cassandra://1ivkSY_gXrLMOGomikmacLDQqcOLLzAUESP0pgPahh0͢`t׉ 7cassandra://S4rtONeTBe6zMibgrDUnliPYKAv4UT1sGw8x2L5u0443|`hnL:a/_,Eט88pu׉׉ 7cassandra://HTIv5Cbtk_hpWa0c3-ozU5zhG_z5AhhYsaXBUTt2dcg.e`׉ 7cassandra://5R4iBx0ZSUY7ym8ADkgnRMY48Eg-shCZcq0GIc9WpOIͿ`t׉ 7cassandra://pf4kV4C-x5RLeD_Ott68Ks8HDaugNTAMcRn8YITzSm04`hnL:a/_,F׉E ^4 By Angelique Lettsome A Storm We’ll Never Forget September 6th, 2017 — a date forever etched in the minds of the Virgin Islanders who lived through its sunrise and sunset. A day through which we are forever linked as its life-altering memory sent shockwaves across our territory. Homes were destroyed, families were displaced and our once vibrant territory bustling with life came to a deafening hush. It felt like we were living in a post-apocalyptic world, and the worst part was that nobody saw it coming. Life Before The Storm Here in the Virgin Islands, our calendar has a natural rhythm. January starts slow as folks ease into the new year, recovering from all of grandma’s good food and guavaberry rum from Christmas time. March brings Easter break with beach picnics and kite-flying. August is for Festival, filled with music, mas, and emancipation, while September marks the return to school. But June through November is hurricane season. A phrase we used to toss around casually back then, before it carried the weight it does now. I was two months shy of my fifteenth birthday when word of the storm began hitting the airwaves. During that time, I was living in a quiet area nestled between Long Look and East End called Old Plantation, on the island of Tortola. I had just entered fourth form which would be my junior year based on the American system. This was a significant time in the lives of myself and my classmates as we could finally see the light at the end of that high school tunnel. It was a time many of us saw as an opportunity to step up and prove ourselves. Life felt promising. School had only just reopened two days before, and everything still had that fresh, back-to-school energy. New notebooks, new teachers, new goals. But just as we were settling in, talk of a storm began to pick up. I remember how unfazed we all were. My classmates and I didn’t take it seriously. Hurricanes were like a seasonal ritual for us, a bit of wind, a definite blackout, some flooding, and a few cozy days indoors with snacks and devices. We had no concept of what was really coming. The storm’s category rose quickly, but from what I remember most people in the community stayed calm. The last big one most could remember was Hugo, and even that felt like ancient history. The Storm The morning of the storm, everything still felt eerily normal. My cousin and I were charging our devices, ready to pass the time like it was just another passing system. Meanwhile, my parents moved around the house in hurricane mode, locking the shutters, checking the water supply, and setting the battery-powered • Continues on next page ׉ 7cassandra://S4rtONeTBe6zMibgrDUnliPYKAv4UT1sGw8x2L5u0443|`hnL:a/_+׉E5 • Continued from previous page radio. I remember that radio clearly, the voice of the announcer cutting through the hum of worry that hadn’t yet reached full volume. I stood by the front door and watched the breadfruit tree swaying, wondering to myself, when is this storm even going to start? And as the winds picked up slowly, I noticed my neighbours boarding up windows and running last-minute errands outside. Surprisingly seeing all the extra efforts to board up didn’t ring any alarm bells for me, even with Irma already having developed into a category five storm. Perhaps it was the fact that at that point I had yet to experience a true natural disaster, or maybe the stillness of the sky and the calm but forceful breeze fooled me into believing everything would be alright. But that didn’t last long. A voice on the radio filled the room with commentary on the storm. Then suddenly, that same voice started calling names. People whose homes had already been breached were crying out for help live on the air. And then, silence. The radio went dead. And the world outside got loud. The Aftermath The wind roared like a living thing. The air pressure inside the house shifted. It felt thick, like we were underwater. Everything happened so fast it was like time collapsed. The calm forceful breeze was but a distant memory as it began lifting any and everything in its path. I looked out through a crack in our shutters and saw our washer and dryer being tossed around like empty soda cans. I immediately grew concerned as our dog was outside and I feared she’d be crushed or blown away. Simultaneously water began pooling at my feet as the wind swept the rain under the cracks of our door. My dad was already searching for towels while my mom went to check the bedroom. And then came the scream. My mother’s voice, sharp and panicked, rang through the house. The bedroom window had blown in. Wind, water, and glass burst into the room. My parents rushed to shut the door and yelled for my cousin and me to get to the kitchen and sit on the floor. That’s when I heard the commotion upstairs. We live in an apartment-style family home. Our relatives on the top floor were suddenly evacuating because the roof had peeled off. This led to even more water leaking into our home from above. I remember crouching Stepping outside the following morning felt like walking onto a movie set. I remember thinking back to an attraction at Universal Studios based on the movie Twister. I had gone on that ride multiple times as a child, and even then, it scared me. The sound of the wind, the rumble, the way the storm tore everything apart in seconds. But that? That was nothing compared to what I saw in real life. It looked like a bomb had dropped on my beautiful Virgin Islands. The vibrant greens we were known for were gone. The hillsides were stripped bare. Debris blanketed every inch of road. Power lines were tangled like webs. Wood, concrete, metal, and plants were scattered as far as the eye could see. It was surreal; and I wasn’t alone in my shock. All around me, people stepped out of their homes like survivors in a dystopian film, slowly taking in the devastation that surrounded us. The days that followed blurred together. I remember news crews flying in, their cameras aimed directly at my community. My home became a backdrop for the • Continues on next page low, stricken with fear, praying in whispers and then singing Sunday school hymns out loud to calm myself. My mind couldn’t keep up. I was so overwhelmed that everything went blank. I just kept repeating to myself, God, please protect us. I don’t want to die. Then came the eye. The Eye of The Storm The winds died down and for a moment there was just silence. It was as if the world itself was holding its breath. We used that sliver of calm to attempt an evacuation to a nearby shelter, only to find it had already been destroyed. Its windows were shattered. The roof was torn off. Cars were flipped over or crushed by debris, and the ground was littered with glass and power lines. It didn’t feel real. We rushed back home, because ironically our damaged house had become the safer option. We rode out the rest of the storm that night in darkness, soaked in fear and disbelief. ׉ 7cassandra://pf4kV4C-x5RLeD_Ott68Ks8HDaugNTAMcRn8YITzSm04`hnL:a/_+hnL:a/_+ppבCט8pu׉׉ 7cassandra://6VNDVKBwRFHj2sDDD9mXVHxrYJw3WWBtjDmlKi0Pyeo`׉ 7cassandra://vlEf-gk7DxM9D841BUV0n4WM7tyKzsfJilQgWnfQWLsͣZ`t׉ 7cassandra://A6cVFQBQ17l9pYAKvakIbCAYSdGq0VYccgmh5I6ZmtY2`hnL:a/_,Iט88pu׉׉ 7cassandra://xTtQ_mhvCdCPx7PQ5uxeNByV0kh0ffZ-_AfsPGXjYj86`׉ 7cassandra://HI4rX3ZllLNIUr48VJftvB2lTl7-ffX-biSyBwqe2B0Ͳe`t׉ 7cassandra://O2fFuIvbHo-8_MVcRPbSxWN0AEEZfUf_rPadjfsKzGM2Y`hnL:a/_,J׉E 6 • Continued from previous page world to witness our pain. The UK military arrived soon after, not just with supplies but allegedly with body bags. They probably expected mass casualties and honestly, I couldn’t blame them. It’s a miracle so many of us made it out alive. But maybe that’s just a reflection of the deep spiritual covering over our islands. Our ancestors don’t play about us. The Months That Followed In the months that followed we managed the best we could as survival became our full-time jobs. Water was stored in coolers, gas station lines felt endless, and our cars became our only source of power. For a while, that was our new normal, until a few months later when my mom’s friend sent us a generator which greatly enhanced our experience. At that time school felt like a distant memory. The idea of studying, graduating, or even returning to class dropped to the bottom of my priorities. My mind was focused on survival, on processing what had happened, on holding it together. But my parents had other ideas as they began discussion about sending me to Puerto Rico to finish the school year. Then Hurricane Maria hit the following week, and that plan disappeared overnight. So I stayed. I waited. And I felt stuck. There was nowhere to go, and nothing to do but survive. And surviving is exactly what we did. The months that followed are tangled together in my mind, blurry and heavy. But the feelings never left. The stress, fear and constant uncertainty linger. They live in me. And even now, when the wind howls a little too loud, my heart still skips a beat. The Gift Hidden In The Storm But even with the trauma, I carry gratitude. That experience taught me to value life’s smallest moments. To appreciate calm. To understand that • Continues on next page ׉ 7cassandra://A6cVFQBQ17l9pYAKvakIbCAYSdGq0VYccgmh5I6ZmtY2`hnL:a/_+׉E7 • Continued from previous page everything, absolutely everything, can change in a flash. Irma stripped us bare, but she also revealed our roots. Our resilience. Our strength. And the quiet power of community. If I could speak to the 14-year-old me huddled on that kitchen floor, knees to chest and praying beneath the howl of the storm, I’d tell her this moment won’t last forever. Life has a rhythm of its own, always flowing, always shifting. What feels like the end is usually just a passage. Even in the middle of chaos, there is beauty in motion. And that’s the lesson that’s stayed with me. Gratitude. Gratitude became my lifeline. Yes, the days were hard. Months without power. The daily struggle to find food. My mom and I traveling to random buildings just to charge our devices. Most of my classmates had already left the island. Our class of 19 became just 10. But even then, I had breath in my body and some kind of future waiting for me. I held onto that. I finished school. I graduated. I kept going. If I had the chance to speak to anyone facing a storm, literal or otherwise, I’d tell them this. Life can strip you of everything except your faith. Whether it’s faith in the Most High, the universe, or simply in the belief that things will get better, that faith is what keeps your spark alive. My generation jokes about being delusional. But honestly? It works. That deep, unwavering belief that every road somehow leads to a better ending? That’s what gets you through. That’s what carried me forward. It’s what still carries me now. Resilience Personified When I hear the word resilience, I picture a tree rooted firmly in the earth. Its trunk steady, even as the winds of life whip it back and forth. Storm after storm, you’ll see leaves fall. Branches snap. And sometimes, the wind bends it so low to the ground you’d swear it’s about to break. But it doesn’t. Instead of breaking, it bends into a new shape. One carved by every gust, every blow, every challenge it’s survived. That tree becomes a living reflection of strength, of growth, of endurance. That’s how I define resilience. The ability to bend, weep, and endure, but never stop bearing fruit. That’s exactly what I’ve witnessed in the British Virgin Islands. We’ve weathered so much. From back-to-back hurricanes in 2017 to a global pandemic just three years later. Our economy took major hits. Our population changed. And yet, the spirit of our people remains unshaken. Our numbers show recovery, yes. But more importantly, so do our stories, our voices, and our drive to move forward. What I hope this message leaves behind is simple. Don’t let your current reality dictate how you move through life. The world will always have its storms. There will always be economic downturns, disasters, grief, and uncertainty. That part doesn’t change. But you can. What does change is how you choose to face those challenges, how you grow through them, and how you use those lessons to light the way for others. That’s what community is about. Surviving, healing, and building together. Angelique Lettsome is a 22-year-old Virgin Islander and proud graduate of both H. Lavity Stoutt Community College and the University of the Virgin Islands. She holds an associate’s degree in general science and a bachelor’s degree in biology with minors in psychology and communications. Angelique is passionate about storytelling, and community resilience and believes in using her voice to spark healing and to inspire others, especially youth, to rise from challenges with strength and purpose. ׉ 7cassandra://O2fFuIvbHo-8_MVcRPbSxWN0AEEZfUf_rPadjfsKzGM2Y`hnL:a/_+hnL:a/_+ppבCט8pu׉׉ 7cassandra://p_DH_nZpE2oa5GDtaEXyhru5_96Gyh_orvfX-tiNXCQ `׉ 7cassandra://Y-uADJRU1EthsuYUT8SPvalvkmD2C_-9rE5a28cJyDE`t׉ 7cassandra://gwkQsjaofYP6cBHiNAXH13wVvrh17jT-q-8NbQH8jpU8`hnL:a/_,Mט88pu׉׉ 7cassandra://Gg0jPz63KGPhj7iaBJHIAO2Ih_vB4LNEhf-5IyScsu8o`׉ 7cassandra://QEQ0btZSA_ypLQ8FS2MDo33ia90cAHH8BLnV1N8wrTQD`t׉ 7cassandra://oByhm9IoTJqaO1ju0DjTLTp8z7GvyRjdw2rwoogF0kM4`hnL:a/_,NנhnL:a/_,UhY9ׁHhttp://family.Inׁ ׁ Ј׉EQ8 By Melissa O’Garro M y very first emotion when I heard my island might be impacted by Hurricane Hugo, was one of disappointment. Disappointment because anyone that knows me well, knows that it may be unusual but I love storms. The torrential rains, the loud thunder and the energy from the lightning give me a special feeling of being close to nature. Against that background, imagine me sitting in Jamaica in 1989, more than a thousand miles away from my island home — Montserrat — when it was threatened by Hurricane Hugo. I was in Jamaica participating in a training programme at a small CARICOM institute in the hills, on the outskirts of Ocho Rios. There I was contemplating the fact that my home island was probably going to feel the impacts of a “glorious storm” and I was going to miss the experience! I spoke to my family at home the morning when the hurricane actually hit. That was September 17th, 1989. They were busy preparing for the impact of the storm. My sisters were packing up clothes and shoes, taking the knick-knacks off the space saver. They used garbage bags to cover anything they felt might get wet. My mother was busy baking up a storm as she normally did in those days and my dad was puttering around the yard moving smaller items that might be blown away. My sisters said the freezer was full of meat and the fridge full of food. In hindsight, we had absolutely no idea of exactly what a hurricane was or the damage and impact it would have on our lives for years to come. I feel confident in saying that no one expected a hurricane the strength and size of Hugo to sit over Montserrat for almost 12 hours. We all felt, as in previous hurricane warnings, that the storm would by-pass us and we would spend the following day walking or driving on the roads to see what damage was done and catch up on gossiping with friends. There had been no major hurricane impact in Montserrat since the 1950s. On September 18th I woke up to the news that Montserrat was virtually destroyed. The initial news reports I got in Jamaica were very vague but gave the impression that the island was totally decimated. All I felt was fear, my stomach turned to water as I sent up some quick prayers that my family and loved ones would remain safe. In those days, we did not have cell phones or WhatsApp and the only telephone access I had to home was through collect calls (reversed charges) from the training centre’s office using a telephone system that required dialing 10 numbers before actually putting in the numbers you required. My friend and colleague (the only other Montserratian in the programme) and I literally ran to the office, begging for access to the phones and started calling our home numbers. No answers! We called different numbers, No answers! I was scared out of mind; I felt as if I was really losing my mind, and I actually felt guilty about being upset that I was missing a big storm. Imagine being in Jamaica with absolutely no access to, or communication with, anyone at home and looking at all the devastation on the television news. Finally, my brother called me; he was also studying overseas in Toronto, Canada and was calling all the numbers he knew at home trying to get any information that he could. Believe it or not, he actually got through to one of his friends at home in Montserrat. His friend’s mother answered the phone screaming hysterically that everything was gone! She was unaware that their phone still worked despite the devastation and was caught off guard when she heard it ringing. My brother managed to calm her down. She was able to confirm that although the island was badly damaged, my relatives were all unharmed and safe. It’s difficult to put into words my terror when I could not contact anyone at home or the relief I felt just knowing they were safe. In the days and weeks that followed, as the telephone service was restored, I found out from my sisters about the absolute terror they endured, hiding in the closet for many hours as my mother prayed feverishly and my father just sat there! The stories they shared about looking outside and being able to see clearly from one side of our island to the next because all the trees that were left standing, were devoid of leaves. They spoke of my mother’s dismay when they looked across to my aunt’s house and saw them waving and she thought that only her house roof was destroyed without realising that the reason she could see them so clearly was because all of their windows were blown out. There were also stories about the food that had to be dumped; the lack of water and electricity, driving miles from home to a • Continues on next page ׉ 7cassandra://gwkQsjaofYP6cBHiNAXH13wVvrh17jT-q-8NbQH8jpU8`hnL:a/_+׉E9 • Continued from previous page location known as Foxes Bay to reach a public “standpipe” with running water, to do the laundry. That meant washing by hand. I felt informed but it increased my sense of isolation, my sense of loss and a deep feeling of regret for not being home to assist with the clean up or really just to be there. My family was clearly traumatised and as the days progressed you could sense they were getting quite exhausted from it all. But there were also the stories about the kindness of neighbours and friends. They spoke about the group of men who came and covered the destroyed portions of our roof and even assisted in repairing it when that time came later. My mother and others cooked for the teams of workmen from the Public Works Department who worked tirelessly to ensure that roofs were covered with plastic and that roads were cleared. I lived for the calls home and all of the stories; some of which were quite funny. The stories that kept me updated with how the island was rebounding. The news items that we heard and saw on television in Jamaica were more sensational and never as detailed or informative as those telephone calls from home in Montserrat. It is amazing how nature bounces back. I reached back home in December; three months after Hurricane Hugo wreaked havoc on my island. The trees were lush and green again. The mountains looked verdant from a distance, the seawater looked blue and inviting. The only visual impression I got that a hurricane had devastated the island was the large number of homes that still had blue plastic sheeting on the roofs. My home from the outside was practically back to normal…. except when I went looking for my clothes. Many of my clothes were missing. In discussions with my sister, I found out that it was just too much to get them all washed and dried in the days following the storm so everything that had mildew was dumped. They regaled me with stories about improvisation, including using an old sugar factory vat for laundry. They tried to make me understand what it was like to live for weeks without running water or electricity. What it was like not being able to iron clothes. It is now almost 40 years later but the trauma of Hurricane Hugo still lingers on in our beloved island. It has been 30 years since the onset of volcanic activities here in Montserrat in 1995, but the impact of Hurricane Hugo remains at least in our minds. Every time Radio Montserrat gives notice that a hurricane is in the region one sister, who lives here, literally panics. Her preparations are a frenzy of activity and her mental anguish is clearly evident. Both of my sisters now just tolerate corned beef after having that as one of the staples they ate for weeks during the aftermath of the hurricane. I still love corned beef but then I did not experience Hugo the same way. My response is a lot slower and a little more laid back as I am convinced that there is no need to fill every available container with water or cover every appliance with garbage bags. One sister’s often screaming response to my tardiness is that I know nothing about hurricanes! Melissa O’Garro is a native Montserratian with a passion for nature and outdoors. That passion motivated her to pursue a career in Agriculture, later completing a Bachelor of Science degree in General Agriculture from the University of the West Indies. She later completed an MSc in Marine Management at the University of Dalhousie in Nova Scotia, Canada. Following those periods of study, she returned home to Montserrat to contribute to the development of the Agricultural sector in particular and the Montserratian community in general. Her passion and commitment to task helped her progress up the ranks over the years. She was the first woman appointed to the position of Director of Agriculture. She served in that capacity for 15 years and to date, remains the only woman to have held the post. Melissa is a member of a large family whose patriotic public service, voluntary efforts and cultural prowess are renowned locally, regionally and internationally. She remains dedicated to the well-being and welfare of her daughter and the celebrated extended family.In her quiet moments alone, Melissa enjoys reading or simply relaxing by the sea enjoying the calming sounds of the waves. ׉ 7cassandra://oByhm9IoTJqaO1ju0DjTLTp8z7GvyRjdw2rwoogF0kM4`hnL:a/_+hnL:a/_+ppבCט8pu׉׉ 7cassandra://3zeUEdWUgzXW-cbwJvsNQCZBw-PCcxff3IbZ9RvPlhA`׉ 7cassandra://DaXJI9LOl2N8o2CjMuQ1wGJgUksdr5mCmvK3jyrCkUY͢`t׉ 7cassandra://p8CDGamU7htJMG-1_4eHz0d14abHY-CQ4rOp63HDVzE/`hnL:a/_,Vט88pu׉׉ 7cassandra://45ZEjAcv6V9PWuHX3zLfPgwOvko7Mw9sgdOGCEl8uys`׉ 7cassandra://nRLuwp5fLQxJzxSuRnK1UZsSK7wdHA8gtHXHrytKJf8͔)`t׉ 7cassandra://9ZSdOFjurTWNdVaFTk-I5r3AIvnEUwsCI9qZ1wQW9co-`hnL:a/_,WנhnL:a/_,PM$A9׉H0https://www.nhc.noaa.gov/aboutgloss.shtml#CENTERGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,QT8{9׉H/https://www.nhc.noaa.gov/aboutgloss.shtml#EXTRAGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,R809׉HNhttps://www.undp.org/latin-america/after-rain-lasting-effects-storms-caribbeanGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,S}78(9׉HNhttps://www.undp.org/latin-america/after-rain-lasting-effects-storms-caribbeanGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,T6N9׉H(https://www.britannica.com/place/EquatorGׁ ׁ r׉E10 By Franklyn Michael, Supplementary Associate, CARICAD The Caribbean has been particularly hard-hit by devastating hurricanes since 2014, with the 2017 Atlantic hurricane season standing out as historic both in terms of storm strength and damage. SOURCE: UNICEF 2019 T hose three quotations set the context for us to reflect on the importance of tropical storms and hurricanes in the Caribbean. In particular, they point to the challenges to efforts to achieve resilient and sustainable development. It would be easy against that background, to think that the Caribbean is singular or on its own, in relation to the threat of storms and hurricanes. That is not so. Tropical Cyclones are a global threat. The National Hurricane Centre defines a tropical cyclone as, “A warm-core non-frontal scale cyclone, originating over tropical or subtropical waters, with organised deep convection and a closed surface wind circulation about a well-defined centre. Once formed, a tropical cyclone is maintained by the extraction of heat energy from the ocean at high temperatures and heat export at the low temperatures of the upper troposphere. In this they differ from extratropical cyclones, which derive their energy from horizontal temperature contrasts in the atmosphere.” Tropical Cyclones are huge cyclonic systems with sustained winds of 74 miles per hour or greater. They have the potential to release hundreds of tonnes of rainfall and create storm surges that can reach inland for huge distances, in low-lying areas. They also have massive thunderstorms embedded in them. Almost 90% of these storms form within 20° north or south • Continues on next page ׉ 7cassandra://p8CDGamU7htJMG-1_4eHz0d14abHY-CQ4rOp63HDVzE/`hnL:a/_+׉E 11 • Continued from previous page of the Equator. Almost 100 such storms occur globally each year. These weather systems are remarkably similar in how they are created but they are called by different names in different parts of the world as we show below. AREA OF THE WORLD Atlantic Basin and the Caribbean Eastern, Northern Pacific Ocean Western Pacific Ocean Southern Hemisphere Australia (informally) NAMES GIVEN TO CYCLONES Hurricanes Hurricanes Typhoons Cyclones Willy-willy The table illustrates the fact that Tropical Cyclones are found in both the Northern and Southern Hemisphere. Caribbean countries are located north of the equator and south of the Tropic of Cancer (23.5° north). That means that they are in the Northern Hemisphere. Professor Stephen Nelson of Tulane University estimates that 12% of tropical cyclones arise in the Atlantic Ocean while 15% develop in the Eastern Pacific Ocean, 30% in the Western Pacific, 24% in the Indian Ocean and 12% in the southern Pacific Ocean. There is now broad agreement on the conditions that create these storms. They include: • Warm ocean water of at least 80° Fahrenheit • Enough moisture in the atmosphere to sustain the storm • An initial atmospheric disturbance such as an Easterly Wave, in which warm, moist air converges and circulates • Very little wind shear in the upper atmosphere In the Atlantic Basin and the Caribbean region, the storms that can become hurricanes, occur most frequently during the designated hurricane season that extends from June 1st to November 30th. There is a statistical peak in September. The Caribbean is particularly vulnerable to hurricanes due to its location in the Atlantic “hurricane belt”. While the hurricane season extends from June to November, such storms can occur throughout the year. There has been at least one hurricane-type storm in each month of the year. In the eastern, Northern Pacific Ocean region, the storms are most common from May to November. There is a contrast with the Indian Ocean. In that area, the storms are common from April until December. Strikingly, there is a double peak in storm activity, one in May and another in November each year. It is notable that with the reversal of seasons in the hemispheres, storms in the Southern Hemisphere are more common closer to the end of the calendar year or early in the year – from November to April. The following classification of Tropical Cyclones was taken from the World Meteorological Organisations 2023 fact sheet. • Continues on next page ׉ 7cassandra://9ZSdOFjurTWNdVaFTk-I5r3AIvnEUwsCI9qZ1wQW9co-`hnL:a/_+hnL:a/_+ppבCט8pu׉׉ 7cassandra://LmSNH81kfAKsxNV6sSAqtPIZ8XgbWkoFYW4q60U_sgo\`׉ 7cassandra://t2atoe5f_MxIe4pF3sZExyftqvcr6Sj4pM2GD5HfSGY͓(`t׉ 7cassandra://ORqGITzL53YubLxrNO1Li64f82Tkxp65y6lyxmAmm4c0`hnL:a/_,]ט88pu׉׉ 7cassandra://QdG-en0ensL4sOK4Egtj8I_Bsn8vXzw2t8jRRKjXi9c`׉ 7cassandra://TkKNPClujbu14xCaD5EJdx6bny7ldtgrnkTEnNLeU20͞A`t׉ 7cassandra://UivMCMK0YvJy5eaZdfJ6PHC4vh1psXUdiekrP2BTmZg/`hnL:a/_,^נhnL:a/_,Yo<9׉Hhttps://public.wmo.int/enGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,Z[9׉Hhttps://public.wmo.int/enGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,[bo9׉H27 • Continued from previous page Hurricane Warning: A warning that sustained winds 64 kt (74 mph or 119 km/hr) or higher associated with a hurricane are expected in a specified coastal area in 24 hours or less. A hurricane warning can remain in effect when dangerously high water or a combination of dangerously high water and exceptionally high waves continue, even though winds may be less than hurricane force. Hurricane Watch: An announcement for specific coastal areas that hurricane conditions are possible within 36 hours. Indirect Hit: Generally refers to locations that do not experience a direct hit from a tropical cyclone, but do experience hurricane force winds (either sustained or gusts) or tides of at least four feet above normal. Landfall: The intersection of the surface centre of a tropical cyclone with a coastline. Because the strongest winds in a tropical cyclone are not located precisely at the centre, it is possible for a cyclone's strongest winds to be experienced over land even if landfall does not occur. Major Hurricane: A hurricane that is classified as Category 3 or higher. Storm Surge: An abnormal rise in sea level accompanying a hurricane or other intense storm, and whose height is the difference between the observed level of the sea surface and the level that would have occurred in the absence of the cyclone. Storm surge is usually estimated by subtracting the normal or astronomic high tide from the observed storm tide. Storm Warning: A warning of 1-minute sustained surface winds of 48 knots (55 mph or 88 km/hr) or greater, predicted or occurring, not directly associated with tropical cyclones. Tropical Depression: A tropical cyclone in which the maximum sustained surface wind speed (using the U.S. 1-minute average) is 33 knots (38 mph or 62 km/hr) or less. Tropical Disturbance: A discrete tropical weather system of apparently organised convection — generally 100 to 300 nautical miles in diameter — originating in the tropics or subtropics, having a non-frontal migratory character, and maintaining its identity for 24 hours or more. It may or may not be associated with a detectable perturbation of the wind field. Tropical Storm: A tropical cyclone in which the maximum sustained surface wind speed (using the U.S. 1-minute average) ranges from 34 knots (39 mph or 63 km/hr) to 63 knots (73 mph or 118 km/hr). Tropical Storm Warning: A warning that sustained winds within the range of 34 to 63 knots (39 to 73 mph or 63 to 118 km/hr) associated with a tropical cyclone are expected in a specified coastal area within 24 hours or less. Tropical Storm Watch: An announcement for specific coastal areas that tropical storm conditions are possible within 36 hours. Tropical Wave: A trough or cyclonic curvature maximum in the trade-wind easterlies. The wave may reach maximum amplitude in the lower middle troposphere. ׉ 7cassandra://Z_La1j_wpGsnEiBOCvkcXz9y0ELbtqlbHejv8ffemlo-`hnL:a/_,hnL:a/_,ppבCט8pu׉׉ 7cassandra://9Q2tOYMu7tok9XykBscU66aWKMo7ewAOBPW5Bu9tgxEw`׉ 7cassandra://96bmPWCimlC6YmThYt6I1ztZ5QlhvaiT_DVW5w27Wpǵ`t׉ 7cassandra://CgH_dMi5Z9yAqpN0gQggxCGIWhPkZ2AEbBXCi6182TE'u`hnL:a/_,ט88pu׉׉ 7cassandra://aFuEcgBJz8AHm7VZ_-IxBdyKZ3uuRo6Ai2bKfOSQAT4`׉ 7cassandra://n7hSesCVQtzNmG6Wrw6wV3RuTCBIRwtP__QCVOiQuBUx!`t׉ 7cassandra://eAHH5FPwDnZcz7kvUzFNZqqQ_41vQ9y4yEv-peH9Byg$`hnL:a/_,׉Ex28 LIST OF NATIONAL DISASTER COORDINATORS OF THE CDEMA PARTICIPATING STATES of April 2024, Provided to CARICAD by CDEMA ׉ 7cassandra://CgH_dMi5Z9yAqpN0gQggxCGIWhPkZ2AEbBXCi6182TE'u`hnL:a/_,׉Ew29 • Continued from previous page Storm damage in the Grenadines. (Photo by Gregory King) • Continues on next page ׉ 7cassandra://eAHH5FPwDnZcz7kvUzFNZqqQ_41vQ9y4yEv-peH9Byg$`hnL:a/_,hnL:a/_,ppבCט8pu׉׉ 7cassandra://oPMB935x6mMlz2C1y5w7S1gOpAyhhw4GLnEeXzC4lyMQn`׉ 7cassandra://SFIFSnWUYIGxgFn8RpNtwypTQybv0VNf0sAGkVczPb8}`t׉ 7cassandra://k1ypmu9uTUEjTl7g5jR1n9aMmHd8cEQU2DmfEH_y0fY&l`hnL:a/_,ט88pu׉׉ 7cassandra://4b4hO1nNjnuisV0mVv13bDxbJ2cLoFQFx_jYa_xXncYa`׉ 7cassandra://aEKaC9tVFjhDsCV3K8RpQxCHZIr8XwG0gDgPnsKFXngx`t׉ 7cassandra://FmJSi4Y5zjQFCFmYy5Itp3x-dCWsULQziiEuJJCd4Q8$`hnL:a/_,׉E?30 • Continued from previous page • Continues on next page ׉ 7cassandra://k1ypmu9uTUEjTl7g5jR1n9aMmHd8cEQU2DmfEH_y0fY&l`hnL:a/_,׉EN31 • Continued from previous page Last updated: 5 May 2025 by Isoke Burnett ׉ 7cassandra://FmJSi4Y5zjQFCFmYy5Itp3x-dCWsULQziiEuJJCd4Q8$`hnL:a/_,hnL:a/_,ppבCט8pu׉׉ 7cassandra://FJt9Y-jlaOn8TcUJEvyaPZhvsGqc8ui1Mw-mUC5e0s4`׉ 7cassandra://E6WaLs77ittz0RFntfIWQALPrG3SgLjVw0vbqQir-EUͦ`t׉ 7cassandra://jWYHi-Z831MGIqH5fHAE7oACOiJvmaBiPfuiN55xGdM1@`hnL:a/_,נhnL:a/_,~LK 9׉H9https://publizr.com/caricadsec/horizon---march-2025-finalGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,~[a 9׉Hhttps://publizr.com/caricadsec/caricad-october-2021-newsletterGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,ȁ][ 9׉HMhttps://publizr.com/caricadsec/caricads-horizon---hurricane-edition-june-2021Gׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,Ɂ]kH 9׉HAhttps://publizr.com/caricadsec/caricad-horizon-march-2021---finalGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,ʁ]{V 9׉HFhttps://publizr.com/caricadsec/caricad-october-2020-newsletter---finalGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,ˁ]l 9׉H=https://publizr.com/caricadsec/horizon-july-august-2020-finalGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,́] 9׉HBhttps://publizr.com/caricadsec/horizon---hurricane-june-2020-finalGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,́] 9׉H=https://publizr.com/caricadsec/horizon---covid-may-2020-finalGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,΁]M 9׉H7https://publizr.com/caricadsec/horizon-march-2020-finalGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,ρ<LZ 9׉H5https://publizr.com/caricadsec/horizon-dec-2019-finalGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,Ё<[N 9׉H5https://publizr.com/caricadsec/horizon-oct-2019-finalGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,с<k 9׉HPhttps://publizr.com/car%C3%A2%E2%80%A2%C2%A6/caricad-august-2019-special-editionGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,ҁ<{@ 9׉HBhttps://publizr.com/caricadsec/caricad-april-2019-newsletter-finalGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,Ӂ<^ 9׉HBhttps://publizr.com/caricadsec/caricad-december-2018-newsletter-hlGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,ԁ<L 9׉HChttps://publizr.com/caricadsec/caricad-august-2018-newsletter-finalGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,Ձ<^ 9׉H>https://publizr.com/caricadsec/caricad-december2017-newsletterGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,ց<; 9׉H9https://publizr.com/caricadsec/caricad-horizon-july-finalGׁ ׁ rנhnL:a/_,ځ6<_ 9ׁHhttp://www.caricad.netׁ ׁ ЈנhnL:a/_,ف<r 9ׁHmailto:caricad@caricad.netׁ ׁ Ј׉Ey32 Memories of the destruction on Canouan and Mayreau in the Grenadines caused by Hurricane Beryl will last a lifetime for the residents of those territories. (Photo by Gregory King, of St. Vincent and the Grenadines.) DISCLAIMER FOR HORIZON HURRICANE EDITION The information provided in this newsletter is set in the context of CARICAD’S Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) with CDEMA. The MOU was signed in 2016. It is stated in the Rationale that both CARICAD and CDEMA have the ultimate aim of facilitating and supporting sustainable development and on improving capacity within member states. The two institutions also agreed to continue joint efforts to mainstream Disaster Risk Reduction. Therefore, the contents of this newsletter are not intended to replace, duplicate or supplant any information provided by CDEMA or the National Disaster Offices of CARICAD member states. It is intended to reinforce their efforts. THE TEAM The CARICAD Horizon is a regular publication of the Caribbean Centre for Development Administration (CARICAD). The Horizon has superseded the “Chronicle”. The Editor-in-Chief is CARICAD’s Executive Director, Devon Rowe. The Production Team comprises: Franklyn Michael, Rosemund Warrington, Dr. Lois Parkes, Trudy Waterman, Angela Eversley and Petra Emmanuel. March 2025 December 2024 August-September 2024 Special Hurricane Edition July 2024 March-April 2024 February 2023 March 2022 December 2021 Previous editions can be viewed at: October 2021 Special Hurricane Edition June 2021 March 2021 October 2020 July-August 2020 Special Hurricane Edition June 2020 Special COVID-19 Edition May 2020 March 2020 December 2019 October 2019 Board Meeting 2019 Special Edition April 2019 December 2018 August 2018 December 2017 July 2017 1st Floor Weymouth Corporate Centre, Roebuck Street, Bridgetown, Barbados Tel: 246-427-8535 Email: caricad@caricad.net Website: www.caricad.net ׉ 7cassandra://jWYHi-Z831MGIqH5fHAE7oACOiJvmaBiPfuiN55xGdM1@`hnL:a/_,/׈EhnL:a/_,0hnL:a/_,/pp,#HORIZON - Hurricane July 2025 FINAL>See the latest edition of the Special Hurricane Edition (2025)hn8Q,$U