Hurricane Janet was one of the most powerful and devastating hurricanes to impact Belize, (then British Honduras), specifically the northern districts of Corozal and Orange Walk, in recorded history. I came across this very interesting post on my Facebook feed this past weekend and decided to share it with our readers. It’s the untold story of don Hermenegildo Pan Salazar (written out by his grandson Ismael ‘Mayo’ Badillo) and his horrendous experience as a child surviving Hurricane Janet, that struck the region in 1955.
My father was five years old when Hurricane Janet just missed a direct hit to San Pedro and I recall him telling me how his family sought new shelter during the storm’s passing, after the storm damaged his house; my mom was too young to remember. Damage to the island and loss of homes was significant.
Hurricane Janet crossed over Ambergris Caye just north of San Pedro and made a direct hit on Corozal Town, brushing the neighboring city off Chetumal, Mexico, almost completely wiping out both municipalities. Before I post don Hermenegildo’s story here’s a summary of Hurricane Janet’s impact on Belize for context and reference:
- Date of Impact: September 27-28, 1955.
- Strength: Category 5 hurricane, the most powerful tropical cyclone of the 1955 Atlantic hurricane season, and one of the strongest Atlantic hurricanes on record.
Winds were recorded at more than 175 miles per hour (mph) at Chetumal airport before the anemometer broke, with maximum winds estimated at 200 mph. - Landfall: The eye of the storm passed directly over Corozal Town, after making landfall just north of San Pedro, in a small Mexican village named X’calak.
- Casualties: 16 lives were lost in Belize as a result of the storm.
- Damage and Aftermath:
Corozal Town: Reported to be 90% destroyed, with only about 10 houses left standing. The center of the hurricane passed directly over Corozal Town. - Northern Districts: Caused devastating winds and massive flooding, particularly in the Corozal and Orange Walk Districts.
- Homelessness: More than 20,000 people were left homeless in the Corozal and Orange Walk districts.
Hurricane Janet left a lasting impact on Belize, causing immense human and material costs, but also leading to significant rebuilding and development in the affected areas.
Don Hermenegildo vs. Hurricane Janet
Story written by Ismael Badillo as told by don Hermenegildo – “Today, while my daughter and I were making a model, my grandfather approached me and said: ‘Tomorrow marks the 70th anniversary of the death of my mother and siblings. I’ve already set up their candle.’ He tells us this every year, and I had heard the story from my teachers, but I never heard it from my grandfather. So I asked him to tell it to me, and it turned out to be something amazing and sad. For those who don’t know his story, it is this:
It was 1955 when the powerful Hurricane Janet devastated the Yucatan Peninsula, especially the city of Chetumal. It was the month of September when don Hermenegildo Pan Salazar suffered the tragic loss of his mother and his two little brothers. A day like today but 70 years ago, my grandfather don Hermenegildo who lived on a ranch in “Rio Huach” survived the powerful category 5 hurricane. He says that at that time communication was scarce, his family was dedicated to harvesting copra from the coconut that was used for various things, mostly to make oil.
That September morning, he recalls the tide was more unstable than usual. They had been warned about a storm, but they never imagined that as the hours passed, it would turn into a hurricane, a natural phenomenon that would destroy their way of life and their family. In my grandfather’s words:
“We didn’t know it hit us. Back then, we didn’t have much communication. Have you seen the photos of a tsunami? Well, in the afternoon, the waves looked like they were seven meters high or even more. I lived on a ranch with the lagoon behind me. I remember the barrier reef and some mangroves in front of me. The waves were vigorously crashing over the reef. I was 11, my brother was five, and my little sister was four. When my dad came home from work, he tied sandbags around our necks because he knew a terrible storm was coming and in case the water came into the house, the sandbags would prevent us from washing away.
Later that night, the wind began to blow, and like a blast, my house was destroyed in a matter of seconds. No one could imagine that situation; it’s unbelievable. My house was there, and in the blink of an eye, it was gone. That was the last time I saw my mother and siblings alive.
Everything happened so fast. Suddenly, I found myself submerged in the sea. The sack my father had tied around my neck was suffocating me, like an anchor, forcing me to go down. My survival instinct made me untie the knot as fast as I could. When I surfaced, I looked up at the sky and saw the moon, and suddenly it was gone again. It seemed like a game with life, “I turned the light on and off,” that’s how it felt. I couldn’t see any of my family, much less any other residents.
It was the Caribbean Sea and I was being whipped. I saw a coconut tree pass by and I clung to it as if there was no tomorrow. The tide was crashing against me until I ran aground in a huge pile of garbage that had been washed ashore. At that time, we dressed very modestly because we were farmers. I had on a pair of plaid pants with suspenders. Those suspenders helped me endure the storm. I tied them to a coconut tree that was in the garbage pile and turned my back to the rain.
Have you ever felt how painful it is when you’re going full speed and the rain hits you in the face? Well, that’s how I felt, the icy drops, the wind and the salt of the Caribbean Sea were the most painful combination that an 11-year-old boy could endure. I was like that all night and without a shirt (because the sea snatched my clothes leaving me only with my pants) tied to the tree trunk until the other townspeople found me in the morning.
My father was without clothes, his legs were completely destroyed. I asked him what happened to him and he told me that he tried to hold on to something with my brother but the sea was stronger than him and snatched him away. We walked for a long time (I couldn’t feel my body anymore) until we arrived at Chetumal where everything was in ruins.
Days later, people from the government asked us where we wanted to be relocated. My father and his brother asked to return to their hometown of Halachó. They took us on a plane from the United States, or so I could read. It was very beautiful. There were “gringo” soldiers. From the sky, I sadly watched how everything was left, and that was the last time I saw the Huach River.
This is the shocking story of my grandfather and how he survived a natural disaster at age 11. My writing doesn’t do justice to the way he explains it, but it does make you think about how fleeting life is.”
The population of Ambergris Caye in its early years consisted of immigrants from nearby municipalities in Mexico, Xcalak, Chetumal, Mahahal, Rio Huache, to name a few. Storms, like hurricane Janet, have displaced Mexicans from their homes, many finding their way to Belize. For this reason, there are many families on the island with Mexican roots.
