Notes from My Time in Puerto Rico

 Anes Ahmed, Class of 2021, Majoring in English Writing 

  I begin my introduction with the power of story. How it captures us with its influence and touch. How it nurses and carries a writer’s hand that carries in it a pen. How it becomes a traveler, leaving its home in pursuit of a new one, trying each passing town for size. The story of Puerto Rico was such a traveler. After the devastation of Hurricane Maria, the stories of the Puerto Rican people made themselves heard loudly. And soon, I became aware of the destruction of the island.
  Being accepted into the CUNY Service Corps-Puerto Rico program, I couldn’t anticipate the coming two weeks of service I committed to in Orocovis. From distributing materials during one portion of the day to climbing on top of houses to secure roofs in the other, the work that we invested in was invigorating. But this experience went beyond construction and the physical. The cohort during my placement participated in dancing and learning the history of Bomba (with an origin rooted in the island’s history of African slavery, it has now become a prominent and proud expression of song and dance in Puerto Rico, despite me not having the dancing form to give it justice), created a mural to celebrate our partner organization H.E.A.R.T. 9/11 and their efforts in helping with the recovery of PR, and even being invited to perform spoken word at The Poet’s Passage Cafe.
  Puerto Rico is an island booming with story. From every street corner in San Juan that was flooded with almost childish-bright colors, sharp and witty street graffiti, and politically aimed posters, to the magical green landscapes, the night chirps of the coqui calling songs to one another, and religious monasteries (including one that I lived in during my two week trip) with a biblical presence in the mountains of Orocovis. Yet what touched me the most were the stories I learned from the locals. In particular, a man named Jonathon's story struck me with the type of weight and emotion that can’t be defined by words. A father of six children, each their own angel, he and his wife lost their home entirely when Maria hit. This resulted in them living in their tiny red car and surviving on food stamps. Soon, the government learned of this situation and gave Jonathon two options:
1. In four months, get a home, or
2. In four months, we will take your children from you.
  I’d been in Puerto Rico for a term of two weeks, but working alongside people such as Jonathon, whose tenacity and energy remained unbowed and limitless, was in a way, a revelation of sorts. A revelation that changed my outlook from the before and after experience of this trip. It allowed me to go beyond to an island, who besides Puerto Rican friends and media coverage, I wasn’t very familiar with. This experience has had a personal effect on me, but the soundest effect it has reinforced within me, is the need for story.