From a watery disaster, our coast isn’t clear

Nov 10, 2019 Countryman, News

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By Dennis Nichols

My first childhood memory of Guyana’s flood-prone coastal plain was at Highdam, East Coast Demerara, some 30 miles from Georgetown, when ‘saltwater-come-in’. It was an enchanting thing to see the schoolyard (we lived in the headmaster’s cottage) covered in several inches of rippling brown water. My sister and I would stand ankle-deep in the fish-flecked swell and gaze at our feet which seemed to move magically against the ripples. We would lose ourselves in the fairy-tale water wonderland.
Many years later, we began to understand the sobering reality it foreshadowed. In the past few weeks, the East Coast stretch between Dantzig and Fairfield, including Highdam, has been twice flooded due to above normal high tides and sea-dam breaches. In other coastal areas, the overtopping of sea defences and koker damage caused additional flooding, disrupting the livelihood of rural villagers and urban dwellers alike.
A spring tide of 3.31 metres (almost 11 feet as recorded recently) will obviously cause overtopping at numerous points along the coast, even as waves batter and breach the dams and kokers. As floodwaters spread, homes, crops and livestock are damaged or destroyed, and the health of residents, particularly children, is put at risk. Sewage from pit latrines and septic tanks contaminate the water, and even drinking water may be compromised. Remember, all of this, and more, happened in 2005 when the Big Flood hit us.
Now there is growing speculation as to what would happen if Guyana were to experience what Dominica, the US Virgin Islands, and Puerto Rico suffered in 2017, and in the northern Bahamas just two months ago. In other words, how would our country fare if a Harvey, an Irma, or a Dorian were to make landfall on our coastline as a Category 5 cyclone. ‘Not too well’ would be the kindest answer.
Far-fetched? With respect to location, maybe. But although Guyana lies well south of the conventional Atlantic tropical storm path, a few hurricanes have actually struck neighbours Trinidad, Venezuela, and Brazil over the years. And guess which country lies betwixt those three nations, vulnerably-poised with its sunken coastline kissing the mighty Atlantic? You need not answer a rhetorical question, but it is our Eldorado Land of Many Waters.
Making a case for proximity, the last hurricane to hit Brazil was Catarina, just 15 years ago in March 2004. Although not a major storm, and defined as ‘rare’, it briefly reached Category 2 strength, claimed several lives, and caused hundreds of millions (US$) in damage. As far as Atlantic hurricanes go, you could say it was both off-course and off-season.
In June 1933, a nameless hurricane struck south Trinidad and north-east Venezuela with winds estimated at 85 to 100 mph (up to 160 km/h) It later skirted Jamaica and Cuba, then dissipated in northeastern Mexico. It claimed 35 lives, and in Trinidad alone destroyed hundreds of houses that left thousands homeless and about US$3 million in damage. I wasn’t around in 1933, but almost certainly northern Guyana would have had some kind of impact.
Now obviously, our country is yet to suffer a catastrophe on the scale of those that have been impacted by the hurricanes mentioned earlier. But there are natural disasters other than tropical storms we should be mindful of.
A volcanic eruption can probably be dismissed outright due to our geologic stability, and the occurrence of earthquakes minimised for the same reason. But there is an underwater volcano off the cost of Grenada, Kick ‘em Jenny, that rumbles sporadically not that far from Guyana, and could trigger at least a minor tsunami if it erupts. But a minor tsunami could devastate our coastline, especially if it happens in conjunction with a spring tide and/or heavy rainfall. And we still haven’t ruled out the hurricanes.
With the kind of flooding, which we’ve been experiencing lately, the systems that are in place have responded in a generally prompt and efficient manner. The Civil Defence Commission (CDC), the National Emergency Monitoring System (NEMS) and its regional arms, assess needs with help from the Public Infrastructure Ministry and National Drainage and Irrigation Authority (NDIA). They communicate, monitor, patch breaches, and assist affected residents with supplies to offset their losses. Good.
But what if a Category 5 hurricane or even a moderate tsunami were to strike the Guyana coast. These are two worst-case scenarios that could actually happen. Put Maria or Dorian at our doorstep with winds blasting up to 200 mph, and tell me what our CDC, NEMS, and NDIA, can do, even with say, a week’s warning. Not much. How do you fight an indefatigable juggernaut? Plans and contingencies are great, but as Hurricane Katrina showed in 2005, the unpredictability factor may be even greater.
Strangely enough though, Guyana is more likely to be struck by a tsunami than by a major hurricane, and the reason has to do with a spin factor for the latter. Hurricanes need the Coriolis effect/force caused by Earth’s rotation, which is very weak close to the equator, and from which our country is less than five degrees north. But who knows? Global warming and changing weather patterns seem to be causing some pretty unpredictable things to happen.
Kick ‘em Jenny has been associated with an ‘earthquake swarm’ since the beginning of this century, yet a tsunami threat has always been played down. Nevertheless, famed American Oceanography Professor, Robert Ballard, once suggested that the submarine volcano could indeed be a potential tsunami threat to the United States (And by extension one would guess, Caribbean countries which are much closer to it than the US).
But even if you dismiss Kick ‘em Jenny, remember, a large tsunami can travel halfway around the globe and still have deadly impact. Just one of its massive waves can be 60 miles long, (think Georgetown to Rosignol) and with a coastal plain as flat as ours, it may travel up to 10 miles inland. Should something like that happen here, a tragedy of unimaginable proportions would play out.
In this country, we worry and talk incessantly about politics and crime; oil wealth and oil woes. Our society is straining to contain an overspill of physical and psychological litter – from the corridors of power to the avenues of destitution. Beauty, truth, and goodness struggle to find footing. Thank God they occasionally do, and buck the odds.
But all of it – the good, the bad, the ugly, and the indifferent, can be wiped out by one cataclysmic natural disaster. Maybe we need some kind of tribulation to pull us together and teach us what nationhood is truly about. Yes, there’s oil out there in the Atlantic, but there’s a lot more water, and our coast isn’t quite clear.

(The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this newspaper.)

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