DFW-Based Nonprofit Struggles to Bring Hurricane-Ravaged Puerto Rico Back Online and to Life

Dallas-Based Nonprofit Struggles to Bring Hurricane-Ravaged Puerto Rico Back Online and to Life

A freezer in Moca is nearly empty, with just three boxed of food left. Many grocery stores remain without power; the few running on generators cannot restock fast enough.

A house in Maguayo is covered in power lines and tree limbs.

Roberto Caballero's dog waits for his return at a neighbor's house in La Perla.

A piece of a concrete bridge floats down a river in the mountains of Puerto Rico.

Paola Ortiz, 84, has been alone for three months, wearing the single item of clothing she has left, a T-shirt that says, "Today is a good day." In the mountain village Moca with no car, she has not yet received aid. "I've always been poor," said Ortiz, "but I knew I would survive. Now, I am not sure." After high winds took her house's walls, she rebuilt it with what was available, plywood and blue tarp. "I have tarp, but the water still gets in; it rains on me every day." Without power, Ortiz is unable to fill out the online form that alerts FEMA that she needs aid. Ortiz wants the world to know, "The Puerto Ricans in the mountains are still here; tell them we need help."

Roberto Virbuet, 55, takes a break from rebuilding his home in La Perla, Puerto Rico. Virbuet is unsure if he can continue living in Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria. "This is not the Puerto Rico, the one I am living in, this does not feel like home," he said. Virbuet is the last of his family living in Puerto Rico. "I just want to be with my brother in Florida," he said. Family is the only thing he wants after surviving the storm. "I miss the music," Virbuet said. "The music is different now. It is sad." Over the past three months, Virbuet has delayed returning to his beach-front home in La Perla. When he returned, he feared Puerto Rico would never be the same. "I have no thoughts," he said. "I want my home back."

In La Perla near old San Juan, 59-year-old Roberto Caballero's home on the beach has been in his family for 30 years. After Hurricane Irma, Caballera received aid, but three months after Maria, Caballera says he has received nothing. "The government is moving too slow; I need a home," Caballero said. "I promised my mother I would take care of her house." In the aftermath of the hurricane, Caballera's business as a fisherman is slow, and he said he only fishes now to survive. "I have my boat and my dog," Caballera said. "I will come back from this."

Hurricane Maria's winds of 185 mph took everything but the floor of Roberto Caballero's second-story house in La Perla.

The vegetation is slowly starting to regrow after Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico in September.

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Four-month-old Kaleb Hernandez sleeps while his brother Mark plays with another child in the shelter. With the shelter running on a generator, a fan must be kept on the younger children so they don't overheat.

house sits on a hilltop along the damaged road to Jayuya. The bent and twisted trees are a sign of the sustained maximum wind speeds from Hurricane Maria, the strongest hurricane to hit Puerto Rico since 1928.

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Five-year-old Jeyden Quinones isn't used to the food the military has given him. He wants plantains, his favorite food. Over the past few months, he and eight family members have been sharing one room and four beds in the cramped Jayuya school shelter that remains without power. Although they're strapped for cash, his family used the last of its money to buy a small stove so that Jeyden can once again eat plantains. It's the last thing left of home for him, his mother says. "The wind took my house," the boy says. "The hurricane made my house explode. I only have hope in God now."

Trees in the mountains of Puerto Rico are left bent and stripped after winds of 185 mph from Hurricane Maria hit the island.

Josefina Adonte, 71, stands in her room at the Adjuntas shelter. Before the storm, Adonte was living in assisted care. Now, she struggles to take care of herself in the shelter with no nurse. Because of glaucoma and dementia, Adonte cannot complete daily tasks, like taking herself to the bathroom at night. "No one is there for me, so I just lay there," Adonte said. The Adjuntas shelter plans to close soon, leaving many of its residents homeless. "I don't know where I'll go," Adonte said. "If I am alone, I will die."

Parts of homes and concrete hang in an alley in La Perla.

Darrick Kouns tells the head nurse at the Moca hospital that the building will have internet and phone service for the first time since Category 5 Hurricane Maria struck in September.

Dustin Lee and Darrick Kouns, volunteers for ITDRC, speak with Israel Cabrera about how the equipment is working since getting the Arecibo Observatory back online. ITDRC reconnected the observatory. The observatory is the second biggest in the world and runs 24 hours. Hurricane Maria damaged 20 panels on the dish and the catwalk that leads to the dome, which hangs 1,256 feet in the air. Since ITDRC brought the observatory back online, it was able to capture high-resolution photos of asteroid 3200 Phaethon passing by earth.

Piles of trash and furniture line the roads of Moca.

Paola Ortiz's home in Moca, including her bedroom, was pulled apart by the wind during Maria. All her walls, windows and clothes were lost. Over the past three months, she has rebuilt her home with plywood and tarp.

The shelter outside of Dominguito offers one shower for all its residents.

After internet is restored at a Quebrada Grande Hospital, Darrick Kouns, a volunteer for ITDRC, lowers a dish from the roof to relocate it to a shelter in need.

Another downed bridge along the mountain road affects the travel route of the ITDRC team.

Darrick Kouns walks down the mountain roads of Dominguito, Puerto Rico, attempting to navigate around a downed bridge. Damaged or destroyed mountain bridges leave some locals traveling by four-wheelers or dirt bikes. Remote villages in Puerto Rico, like Domingutio, Maricao and San Lorenzo, have been isolated since the storm destroyed bridges that connect them to bigger cities. ITDRC visited the remote mountain villages, helping some get back online and noting those without power so they can revisit.

A house in La Perla

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Darrick Kouns, a volunteer with Dallas-based nonprofit Information Technology Disaster Resource Center, discusses with Luis Seda, the network administrator for the mayor's office in the mountain village Jayuya, how they can supply communications for the local shelter. ITDRC deploys volunteers from all over the world to provide communities affected by disasters with resources to recover their IT infrastructure. Providing internet access and phones helps families reconnect when separated and aids businesses in reopening.

A house in La Perla, Puerto Rico, sits empty after Hurricane Maria.

Alfredo Matos Rivera, 58, sits on the edge of his cot next to other displaced families while focusing on his breathing treatement. Matos has been in the shelter outside of Dominguito for more than 72 days. Hospitals in his area remain without power, and with the loss of his house, job and car, traveling to a hospital in his area is not an option.

Jose Torres Matos, 36, rests on his cot in a shelter he now calls home in Puerto Rico.

A once busy town, La Perla now sits vacant and still. Locals have started a hashtag, #yonomequito, in an attempt to remind the youth that Puerto Rico is their home. After the hurricane, the majority of the younger generation moved to the mainland, leaving towns like La Perla behind.

HANNAH RIDINGS

More than four months after Hurricane Maria, greenery has returned to Puerto Rico. At first sight, it’s clear the plants and vegetation of the island have recovered faster than its people.

Radios can be heard in the streets, playing again out car windows as their drivers maneuver and beep through cluttered intersections. The traffic lights are dark; much of the area is still without power more than four months after the storm. Devastation is everywhere.

The concrete is torn and weathered. Entire neighborhoods stand with giant blue tarps keeping the elements away. The winds of the storm tore off the paint of the once-colorful homes. Amid the grey, battered remains of trees and plants blanketing the island are mudslides. Locals say the mountains are melting and the island is taking its last breath.

Countless Puerto Ricans are still shelterless, hungry and thirsty. Downed bridges and torn-up roads make travel difficult and aid trips few and far between. Nonprofits face a landscape too difficult to remain on the island as funds quickly run out. Joe Hillis, founder of Dallas-based Information Technology Disaster Resource Center, is getting ready for his eighth and final trip. The nonprofit’s main focus for months has been to get internet up and running for other disaster-relief organizations, as well as the rest of the island.

When an island is devastated by a hurricane, most relief comes in the form of bottled water and packages of ready-to-eat meals. Internet access may seem like a low priority, but it can be the difference between life and death. Without the internet, islanders cannot fill out the mandatory online form that alerts the Federal Emergency Management Agency of their locations and their needs. Without the internet, there is little aid for Puerto Ricans.

“We could’ve stayed for the next five years, and there still would be places that need to be connected,” Hillis says. “But this is our last trip; there’s just not enough public support.”

Roberto Virbuet, 55, of La Perla, still has no internet or electricity. He is one of 3.4 million Puerto Ricans affected by Hurricane Maria. He remembers when his island home was filled with dancing and singing and “enchanted with a joyful people.” Without web access, he has no way of filling out the online FEMA form. These are the stories that bring Joe and Debbie Hillis’ boots to the ground.

“My family, we are volunteers like everyone else,” Joe Hillis says.

Together, the couple founded the nonprofit ITDRC in 2008. They now call a retired fire truck their office and home, parking it wherever disaster strikes (although they sent volunteers and equipment, not the truck, to Puerto Rico). They deploy more than 1,000 volunteers statewide with technology to reconnect victims with their cut-off families.

“We need all the volunteers we can get. There is no shortage of disaster,” he says.

In 2017, the couple worked more than 300 days out of the year, spending months in one disaster zone and then relocating to the next. Recent deployment teams have been working for 180 days, volunteers traveling from Houston, devastated by Hurricane Harvey, to Puerto Rico.

Working from Dallas Fort-Worth, the couple marked sites in Puerto Rico that were running off generators and teamed up with local satellite dish installers to help get their volunteers more donated gear.

This is the couple’s first time sending volunteers off the mainland. Not having the comforts of the ITDRC truck poses many challenges for the relief teams and limits the amount of gear ITDRC can send from Texas.

Once in Puerto Rico, volunteer teams rise at 4 a.m. Torn roads and downed bridges demand an early start. Any later, and they would not have enough time to navigate to and from the sites the Hillises have marked. The team must make it back before dark. With no street lamps and no stoplights, driving at night is not a safe option.

The volunteers will travel to more than 60 marked sites — hospitals, police stations, suicide hotlines and shelters. They split up and communicate via satellite phones, marking more places to aid as they go. The goal is to reconnect, so the villages can again have a voice and begin to receive aid from FEMA.

Because of the lack of public funding ITDRC will make its eighth and final trip this month, but it will not remove the donated gear until local internet is restored.

“I wake up everyday, and whether it’s wildfires in California or hurricanes in Puerto Rico, I know what my mission is,” Joe Hillis says. For the next few weeks, the mission is in Puerto Rico.