"Melissa hit on the 28th of October. From then, we had no service, no internet, no power, no water. Nothing."

Johan Beckford remembers the moment the world went quiet. The wind had barely settled when Cave Mountain in Westmoreland fell into total isolation - not just physically, but digitally. No phones. No signal. No way to reach children living miles away. In the darkness that followed, the silence was its own kind of devastation.

Across Jamaica, Hurricane Melissa ripped through the island flattening homes, blocking roads, toppling thousands of electricity poles, and severing every strand of communication. More than 1.6 million people were affected and 190,000 buildings suffered major to catastrophic damage, but on Cave Mountain, the impact took a starkly local form: massive trees lay across the steep, single-track hillside road, whole sections of it had collapsed, and nothing moved in or out, leaving the community with no way to call for help.

For Johan, that silence lasted two full weeks.

"My first reaction was to hear from my kids."

"After the hurricane I just wanted to get in contact with my children. My first reaction was to hear from my kids… to hear from my family members."

Her aunt in England tried calling "over and over," watching terrifying images on the news but unable to reach anyone on the mountain.

"When I finally called her," Johan said, "she said, 'Thank God you are alive.'"

But it would take 14 days before that call could even happen.

Blocked Roads, Lost Homes, No Way Out

The damage around Cave Mountain was severe. "After the hurricane we had nowhere to go because the road was blocked," Johan said. "Trees everywhere. The road was caving."

With roads cut, communication gone, and the grid in pieces, reconnecting seemed unattainable.

With no connectivity, no power to charge a phone, and not much money, Johan set out on foot. She walked from Cave Mountain to Summerfield - a long, punishing journey that took more than a day - to find her daughter. "She had lost her house with her two babies," Johan said quietly. "She had to run in the storm."

When Connectivity Became a Commodity

In the days that followed, desperation forced people to walk miles down the mountain in search of a signal, or at least a generator to even charge their phone.

"It was two weeks after Melissa before I could connect," Johan said. "We didn't have phone service, power, or water."

A privately owned Starlink unit farther down the road became one of the few ways to reach family, but it came at a steep price.

"Some people went down the road to charge phones with a generator and use Starlink. But the other Starlink you had to pay for… some paid $100, some $200. But not everybody could afford it."

For families with only enough money for food and bottled drinking water, paying for a few minutes of WiFi was out of reach.

"Sometimes the only money you had was to buy food and drinking water. So it was very hard."

While connection became a business for some, it remained a lifeline for all, especially for those with young families like Johan.

The Salvation Army and Red Lightning Bring Free Starlink to Cave Mountain

The turning point came when two weeks after Hurricane Melissa had hit, The Salvation Army, working with Red Lightning, established a free Starlink WiFi hub at the Cave Mountain Corps.

"The only service we had was the WiFi at the church. The Salvation Army donated it so the whole community could use it."

Every morning, the pastor placed the Starlink unit outside to charge in the sun. At night, the church grounds filled with people - children, parents, older residents - all trying to reach loved ones.

"At 8 o'clock at night you'd see people here using the WiFi," she said. "Everyone could use it because it was free."

Across Jamaica, this partnership deployed 20 Starlink units, along with solar panels, generators, and batteries, to create communication hubs in six of the hardest-hit communities.

Cave Mountain's hub became one of the most relied on sites - a community signal in a place where every other line had gone dark.

Food, Support, and the First Call Home

Communication wasn't the only need. With roads blocked and homes damaged, food access collapsed.

In partnership with World Central Kitchen, The Salvation Army helped provide a steady flow of hot meals, dry goods, hygiene kits, and food parcels.

"They came with dry foods. They made two lines, - one for children, one for adults," Johan said.

As people gathered each night around the Starlink hub to charge phones, check messages, and make calls, food distributions often took place at the same time, turning the Cave Mountain Corps into a nightly center of connection, both digital and physical.

But nothing mattered more to Johan than the moment the WiFi finally delivered the voice she had been waiting for.

"When I finally got through, my youngest daughter said, 'Mammy Joy, I'm so happy to hear from you. Do you know how long I've been trying to reach you? Thank God I heard from you.'"

Two weeks of silence ended with a single call.

For Cave Mountain, the combination of food relief, community WiFi, and communication restoration became the backbone of early recovery.

"When the road finally cleared," Johan remembered, "my daughter's brother-in-law brought her here. She said, 'I'm so happy… but I've come for food.'"

With prices rising and incomes unstable, the support mattered.

"We only had 7,000 Jamaican dollars," Johan said. "Things are so expensive. We couldn't buy food or Pampers."

Looking Forward

Johan's voice steadied as she reflected on those first days - the silence, the hunger, the fear of not knowing if her children were safe.

But today, the Starlink hub at the Cave Mountain Corps still stands. Families continue to gather each evening, making calls, checking messages, sending updates, staying connected.

Communication hasn't just returned; it has become part of the community's resilience.

"I was overjoyed. I said, 'Thank you Jesus, you answered my prayer. You never failed me.'"

Her story speaks to a deeper truth on Cave Mountain: connection is more than convenience. It is survival. Thanks to The Salvation Army and Red Lightning, the community has a way to reach out again.