"Our farm fed us."

Before Hurricane Melissa, Cordeline's days followed the rhythm of her farm. The land provided nearly everything her family needed.

"We plant sorrel and pumpkin and yam and other things. Our farm fed us. Before the hurricane I never used to buy any of the vegetables or yam from anybody else. I could go to the coop and catch the chicken and cook them. And then we had plantain and banana."

Cordeline preferred to eat only what came from her own soil. The chickens in the coop supplied meat when needed, and the plantain and banana trees filled out the rest. Even her sugar cane, once several acres, was part of a reliable cycle of harvest, sale, and home use.

Farming wasn't simply work for her; it was the structure of her independence. She rarely needed to buy food. Her farm fed her family, supported her small shop, and kept her self-sufficient. Her only outside income was from teaching English to the young people in her community.

"There's nothing left. Everything went."

When Hurricane Melissa arrived, that world ended overnight. Hurricane Melissa hit Jamaica with catastrophic force. The storm leveled homes, uprooted trees, wiped out crops, and destroyed entire agricultural communities. When the winds finally stopped, Cordeline stepped outside into a changed world.

"The hurricane came and there's nothing left, everything went. After that happened I felt so bad. I was just looking at it not saying anything because there was nothing to say."

Her shop, her main source of income, was gone. "When I looked at the front of the yard the shop was not there. It was nothing - just rubble."

She describes it plainly. "There's nothing left. Everything went." When she stepped outside, she saw what the storm had taken without ceremony. The chicken coop had disappeared entirely. "I was wondering where the chickens went," she says. The cane fields were flattened. The fruit trees around the house, six large ones, plus ten coconut trees, lay snapped or uprooted.

"I felt as if I was alone in the world."

In the first days after the storm, she tried to manage with what little was left, cooking small amounts of whatever she had. But the loss of the farm meant the loss of her food, and prices in the shops rose quickly.

"We don't have any food now. There is nothing for us to eat. Drinking water is very scarce. I had to try to buy. And the prices went up so high I could not afford it. We don't have any food now. There is nothing for us to eat."

It was also a period of deep isolation. With roads blocked and communication down, many people simply disappeared from contact. "I felt as if I was alone in the world," she recalls. "There is nobody. I did not cry but the tears were right behind my eyes. I said, where is everybody? I cannot call anybody. Nobody can call me. They don't know if I'm still alive."

Days passed before some communities were reachable. She recalls a young man nearby who wasn't found for days. Some communities were so isolated that even the dead could not be reached. "Bodies could not be removed…, they had to bury them in the same place," she says.

She Stood in Line for Food and Water

It was during this time when her own resources were exhausted, that The Salvation Army began calling residents to distribution points. She describes going only because there is no longer another option. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be here," she says. "That's not me." But the need was real. She collected food parcels, drinking water, and clothing. When cooked meals were available, she brought them home to share with her family. These distributions became part of how she and her children managed from week to week.

The support has been steady: food parcels, hot meals during the early weeks, bottled water when the community supply failed, and basic items to get through each day. It hasn't restored the farm, that will take time, but it has sustained the household through months of uncertainty. "When The Salvation Army gets things, they call us," she says simply.

Even so, she speaks about the help with mixed feelings. Her independence has shaped her whole life. Accepting assistance feels unfamiliar, even uncomfortable. "I am more like an independent person who helps myself," she admits. But after listing all she has lost, she adds, "I will take the food and the water."

The Salvation Army has reached more than 212,000 people across Jamaica since Hurricane Melissa, providing steady relief to families who lost homes, crops, and access to clean water. Teams have distributed 131,000 meal kits, 66,000 hot meals, 9,000 food parcels, and more than 27,000 bottles of drinking water, along with 25,000 hygiene kits to communities facing severe shortages. These resources have helped stabilize households whose farms, shops, and livelihoods were wiped out by the storm. For many families like Cordeline's, these distributions have become a vital lifeline as they begin the long process of recovery.

She Hopes to Rebuild her Farm

Her home still needs repair; pieces of the roof continue to fall. The remaining acre of cane may or may not produce a harvest this year. She hopes for support to rebuild the farm - "to bring things to harvest" - but she knows that will come slowly.

For now, she continues forward in the same steady way she recounts her story. The land she depended on for a lifetime can no longer feed her. Until it can, she stands quietly among her neighbors, receiving supplies that help her family manage one week at a time.

It is not the life she lived before the storm. But it is the life she has learned to piece together after it.