Island Journeys: Rebuilding home and hope after Hurricane Beryl, Uriel Thomas’ Story

When Hurricane Beryl tore into Union Island in 2024, it didn’t just flatten homes it upended lives, reshaped communities, and served as another harsh reminder of how climate change is accelerating both the frequency and severity of natural disasters across the Caribbean. For Uriel Thomas, a father of five, the storm marked the beginning of a harrowing journey of survival, displacement, and the uncertain path of rebuilding.

Uriel remembers the day with unsettling clarity. Although weather warnings were issued, few on the island grasped the magnitude of the threat.

“Everybody take the storm for granted,” he admitted.

“Even I did. I didn’t board up no window. I just figured I’d grab a few things and ride it out.”

But Beryl made landfall with terrifying speed and force, one of the earliest Category 4 hurricanes ever recorded in the Atlantic.

“The storm didn’t come gentle,” Uriel says. “It came strong. One time. No warning wind to get ready. Just boom.”

Within minutes, his home was under siege. Doors ripped from hinges. Glass shattered. The roof peeled away like paper. As the winds howled, Uriel scrambled to protect his children, shoving them under a low bed and reinforcing it with furniture.

“Nobody was ready for that devastation,” he said.

He watched helplessly as his partner was nearly struck by flying shards after a window exploded.

“I thought I made a bad decision. I thought I was going to lose her right there.”

As the eye of the storm passed and the world turned white with fog and rain, Uriel knew everything had changed. The aftermath resembled a war zone. “You didn’t even know where to step,” he said. “The whole place had turned over.”

Without a safe place to return to, Uriel and his family made the difficult choice to leave Union Island and flee to nearby St Vincent. Nearly a year later, they remain displaced, living in limbo and trying to piece together their lives. Their home on Union Island remains a skeleton. Their children’s school supplies, uniforms, and devices were all lost.

“Even mine,” Uriel said quietly.

Uriel’s story is not unique. As global temperatures rise, so does the intensity of hurricanes and extreme weather events. Across the Caribbean, climate-related disasters are driving a new form of human mobility: displacement not caused by conflict, but by environmental catastrophe.

These sudden-onset disasters like hurricanes disrupt livelihoods, damage infrastructure, and push families to relocate in search of safety and stability. For many, displacement is temporary. But for others, like Uriel, returning home may not be viable in the near future.

With limited shelter space, inadequate infrastructure, and financial barriers, evacuation is often not a straightforward decision for families. “Imagine going into a packed shelter with five children, your partner, her father… those shelters were already full,” Uriel said. “I thought it

better to stay and defend my family the best I could.”

The reality is that climate displacement is growing more complex. It’s not just about relocating from one place to another it’s about the emotional, financial, and psychological toll it takes. It’s about trying to rebuild a life when the very ground beneath you is no longer safe.

Today, Uriel is trying to rebuild. He’s planting again, hoping to ground his family in some sense of normalcy. He wants his youngest daughter to start kindergarten, but with school costs starting at $300, even basic milestones feel out of reach.

Uriel dreams of returning to Union Island one day, not just to rebuild what was lost, but to build something stronger.

“I want something substantial,” he said. “A place I can share with my family. If I could help rebuild, I’d do it. For the youths, for the old people who were affected.”

His message to others is clear: don’t take storms lightly. “If they say level three or four, leave,”he said. “Go to a shelter. Don’t take it for granted.”

Uriel’s story is still unfolding. But in his voice, steady, reflective, resilient, you hear what survival really means: not just getting through the storm, but daring to build again after everything has been torn away.

As the Caribbean braces for a future where climate-fuelled storms are the norm, investing in resilient communities, safe housing, accessible shelters, and inclusive recovery strategies will be critical not just for recovery, but for survival. (Contributed by The International Organization for Migration)