South Florida Sun-Sentinel

September 8, 2004

Farming community seeks help

By Ian Katz
Staff Writer

INDIANTOWN · Exhausted, slightly dazed and dehydrated, residents here, mostly Guatemalans and African-Americans, waited in stifling heat Tuesday for ice and water in this small agricultural town, most of which has been without electricity since Friday.

During the weekend, amid all the anguish, a bundle of joy: A baby was born in an elementary school shelter at the peak of the storm.

The damage to homes in Indiantown, 25 miles west of Stuart, was not as severe as it was in cities such as Fort Pierce and Port St. Lucie. Parts of some roofs were lifted off, and flooding inside homes was common. But nearly everyone in Indiantown could return home.

The question was: Why bother?

With no air conditioning, large families packed inside small homes felt they were suffocating.

"The shelter was bad enough, but this is a lot worse," said Penny Welch, 42, who works as a custodian. "Water got through my front door, and all my food is spoiled."

A distribution center for ice and water was set up at a Thriftway store. The line of cars stretched nearly a mile in two directions, and those without cars walked up and waited more than an hour. The crowd was so large that the Martin County Sheriff's Department, which was managing the site, ordered the distribution center moved to a more spacious area around noon.

Juan Jose Pascual, 58, a farm laborer from Guatemala with a deeply creased, weather-beaten face, slowly walked up to the distribution center. In 90-degree heat, he was wearing a Mexican-style sombrero, a long-sleeve green plaid shirt, long pants and white tennis shoes. When asked how he was doing, he replied: "No electricity."

Maria Garcia, who came from Guatemala two years ago, was standing in line with her 6-year-old son Mynop and 15-month-old Evelin, who was sweating heavily.

The three spent the night of the hurricane in a small home with 15 people. She needed ice and water, and fast.

Directly in front of her, with a 12-gauge shotgun slung over his back, was Martin County Deputy Chief Charles Pattison. The gun was loaded with beanbag rounds, which are used for riot control. "By having it here, you don't have to use it," he said.

But the people in line looked more likely to faint than to attack anyone.

While deputies managed the lines, volunteers from Martin County Fire Rescue were checking identification of those in line to make sure everyone there lived in Martin County. Volunteer firefighter Daniel Holley said he had turned back about seven people.

A few Guatemalans said they were concerned they would be asked to present a green card, showing legal residence. But Holley he would take any ID that shows a Martin County address.

The problem was communication. Many of the Guatemalans didn't speak English, and the deputies were not bilingual. Ray Bowman, a public affairs official for the Federal Emergency Management Agency at the distribution center, said FEMA would be handing out bilingual fliers throughout the town in the next two days to explain how families suffering from the hurricane can seek help. (They can call 800-621-3362.)

"We can address their immediate needs, such as temporary housing," he said.

Letitia Peterson was in line to get water and ice for her five children. Her sister, Anrinette Dowling, almost gave birth to her fourth child during the hurricane.

Her due date was Tuesday. On the night of the storm, Dowling suffered contractions, but they eventually subsided. "It was hell," she said. "I just endured the pain."

But another pregnancy did end during the storm. Maria Francisco Juan, a Guatemalan immigrant, was at home suffering contractions at five-minute intervals early Sunday morning when her family called 911. Because of the hurricane, Martin County Fire-Rescue had stopped taking patients to the nearest hospital in Stuart, 25 miles away.

So they took her to the shelter a couple of miles away. When she arrived, Juan began suffering contractions two minutes apart.

Martin County Paramedic Dan Jouver, stationed at the shelter, said he figured that "she won't give birth on me."

At 5 a.m., Juan's water broke. Jouver flashed back to the paramedic's course he took six years ago. He had never delivered a baby, but as part of his training he once stood alongside a doctor during delivery.

Besides inexperience, the first-time doctor faced a couple of other obstacles. First, there was no light in the shelter. Second, he couldn't communicate with Juan.

A bilingual evacuee helped translate and an American Red Cross shelter volunteer held a flashlight.

The delivery came quickly. Almost immediately after the water broke, Jouver could see the baby's head. At 5:05 a.m., a healthy baby boy was born.

The elated mother asked Jouver his name, with the idea of giving her son the same first name. She briefly discussed the name Daniel with her husband. "Well, apparently they didn't like it enough," Jouver said. The boy was named Alex Mateo Francisco.

Fifteen evacuees were in the classroom during the delivery, though a couple of them slept through the birth.

"When they woke up," Jouver said, "there was another person in the room."

Staff Photographer Anastasia Walsh Infanzon contributed to this report.