Firefighter homeless after battling Hurricane Melissa on the frontline

Hurricane Melissa tore through Westmoreland last week Tuesday, flattening homes and uprooting lives. But in the midst of it all, firefighter Kimarie Drummond was not at home bracing for impact, she was at work on the frontlines, serving others even as her own world was falling apart.

"I was at work because I had a shift before Melissa... so during this time I was at work," Drummond recalled. "So while I was at work, I see the heavy winds and zinc flying and all sorts of stuff."

Drummond, a firefighter attached to the Savanna-la-Mar division and a mother of one, had no idea that while she was helping others, her own home would be destroyed.

"The Wednesday after the storm, they said that we were going to clear the roads to Petersfield and some other places," she explained. "Bear in mind, most firefighters who live at Petersfield currently don't have a house because most of them would have been board structures."

Drummond emphasized that, in the aftermath of the storm, the stress weighing on the firefighters' shoulders was heavy. The sadness was something she herself could hardly bear. But as the crew made their way through flooded communities, they encountered even more heartbreak and destruction.

"We went to Catalina where the water was about my waist height," Drummond said. "And when we went, the first firefighter on the unit, she lost her home. The truck, everybody on the unit broke down."

Then came the moment that will be etched into her memory forever.

"We went to my home. And when I went to my home, my home was no more. Big tree fall down. Tree drop on my house. My roof gone. Everything gone."

The words came slowly as she described her first look at the scene.

"Just the settee that my uncle took out a loan for from Courts that was all. And a deep freezer, like furniture-wise," she said. "The bed, everything was destroyed. The only thing that was saved was my baby's clothes that I put into a suitcase and her birth certificate. They were wet, but I put them to dry. That's the only thing I have left from my home."

Now, Drummond is living at the fire station while trying to care for her mother and her nine-month-old daughter, who are staying temporarily with relatives.

"I am currently at the station, but my mommy and my daughter, they are staying sometime with my auntie," she said. "I'm currently staying at the station and going to and from on the unit to check on my mother and give her food supplies."

The challenges have been overwhelming. With limited access to cash and basic necessities, Drummond says she is struggling to make ends meet.

"Even though food supplies are short... the ATMs are not dispensing money," she said. "So, you know, I have a little $5,000 in my pocket. I have to clutch the $5,000 and go to the supermarket to get supplies. My baby needs feeding, she needs pampers, she needs juice. My mother needs tin food and stuff."

She paused before saying weakly, "Right now, it's very devastating. It's just that mi really and truly nuh know where to start from or where to go. But I think we probably..." her voice trailed off as she sighed. "I don't even know."

Still, even amid her own suffering, Drummond found the strength to keep serving others.

"You see, when we're in Sav and firefighters live near, and we go down there and we see the house condition... we rescue some persons from their house and they might say, 'nothing is left.'"

She was especially heartbroken by the elderly people who were suffering. "And I say, I have one grandmother like her," she said. "I say, God, if it's even to come into Sav and get something to eat..."

She continued, "Because I tell you, food is scarce now down here. If you buy something from a supermarket, they might sell two pounds only. You hardly can get gas. No money not coming from the ATMs," she said. "So I say, alright, at least if they can come in town, then we probably can get something."

The devastation in this parish extends beyond Drummond's own home.

"Very devastating in Westmoreland overall," she said. "My grandmother doesn't have a house. My cousins don't have a house. I don't have a home. It's like people just have to scrape, scrape, scrape in certain places to survive."

But still, she finds small mercies to be thankful for.

"I say, God, I'm just glad my mother and my daughter were never around," she said tearfully.

Based on her view of Savanna-la-Mar's unfolding devastation during the hurricane, Drummond only had one hope. "When I see the zinc start to fly off, I say, God, do me a favor. At least make my house stand. Just make it stand. Make me have somewhere to go."

When asked what kind of help she would most appreciate now, her heart desired a new start.

"I just want a home to put over my mother and my daughter's head. It doesn't have to be much or anything. I just want a home," she said. "I can probably figure out the rest from there. I just want a home. I don't want to be living at the station."

Drummond hasn't seen her family often since the hurricane, but she treasures the brief moments when she can.

"The first time I saw my mummy and daughter was when we were clearing the road, so my mother heard the truck and she walked out and I glimpsed them," she recalled. "But the first time I officially went to my auntie's house and saw them was Friday... When I hugged my mummy, I was trembling. When I hugged my daughter, I cried, and my mummy was saying, 'Don't cry, we're okay, we're alright.'"

Knowing that her daughter was well taken care of also gives her strength. Drummond recalled her mother reassuring her, saying, "Your daughter has enough help."

She specifically thanked the neighbours who had generators along the lane. "She has a little mini-fan that her godmother bought her on Amazon," she said. "That's what my mummy has to charge by the neighbour's house to keep her cool and stop mosquitoes from biting her."

Despite everything, Drummond's faith in God and the encouragement from her mother keep her going.

"When I saw her, I was in tears because me a say, God, you know I can't manage," she said. "You know I say, I can't... I don't know how to deal with stuff like this. Honest to God, my mother is my motivational system because my mother keeps telling me, 'You have life, you have one job, things gonna be alright, we can rebuild, we're alright, just keep doing what you have to do.'"

Hope is the only thing left standing for Drummond, along with her mother and daughter as her backbone, but hope can only go so far.

"I just want a roof over my mother and my daughter's head," she repeated softly. "That's all I want."