Hunters resident Frances Marinette Lewis outside her storm-battered home in Grand Bahama last Wednesday. (Photo: Ahvia J. Campbell)

HUNTERS, Grand Bahama -- When we stopped by the home of Frances Marinette Lewis, in Hunters, Grand Bahama, last Wednesday, it still looked as if a bomb had been dropped on it.

Half of the walls and a big portion of the roof were ripped down by Hurricane Matthew a month ago this week.

There was no need to walk inside to see the devastation.

Parts of the roof still littered the bed. A door was still tossed to the side, ripped off its hinges. Clothing and debris were everywhere.

It is a lot for Lewis, 58, to deal with.

Days before the storm, she had a double mastectomy.

Dealing with her health challenges was already tough. Figuring out what to do about what's left of her home is another significant challenge.

"I haven't rested since I had surgery," she admitted, clutching a manila envelope with documents she intended to take to social services officials to seek help. "But I have to do what I have to do. God bless the child that helps herself.

Lewis told National Review the only thing she could do when she visited her home right after the storm was shake her head.

"That's nature," she said. "It's not livable. I prayed hard. I said, 'Father, let my furniture stay intact'.

"The last hurricane we had in 2005, Wilma, take everything. I had to start from scratch. The only thing I could carry out of here (now) is my little sofa, but the bed, I can't bother with that."

But with her house decimated by the storm, there isn't much to do with a sofa right now.

As we watched her walk away, clutching her envelope and clinging to her faith, we could not help but to feel the unfairness that is life.

And we were reminded that while Hurricane Matthew has long passed, and while it is no longer the daily headline story, little has changed for many of its victims, like Lewis.

In Hunters, Lewis Yard, Pinder's Point, Mack Town and other areas along that stretch, the damage is substantial.

It is difficult to find a home that is not scarred, or destroyed, by the storm.

Many of the homes that remain are covered with blue tarp, the plastic sheeting used to prevent the elements from further compromising the structures and making life even more unbearable than it already is for so many.

While the need is significant in West End, it is also significant in other areas of Grand Bahama that have not gotten enough national or media attention in the storm's wake.

Many of the people in West End, and in other communities of Grand Bahama, have no idea where help will come from to rebuild.

Some appear despondent, sitting, staring, passing the time.

Others, too, pass the time, but they are hopeful and are helping themselves the best they can.

Clean-up continues, and the sound of hammering in some areas provides some sign -- albeit small -- of efforts to rebuild homes, and lives.

Hunters is where we also met Benjamin Rolle, an unemployed man who also has little left.

"I lost just about everything," said Rolle, adding that he had recently spent money renovating the place before the storm came.

Before we realized the structure was still being inhabited, we walked in the back and met a scene difficult to fully describe.

Matthew ripped the entire back portion of the house off, leaving a pile of rubble -- a tossed water heater buried under shredded sheetrock and daily items no longer usable.

"They told me the roof was gone," said Rolle, who evacuated ahead of the storm, "but I didn't think it was as bad as this."

In Lewis Yard, we walked into a house that also has a large portion of the roof gone. It has a frame, and the blue tarp.

We called out as we entered the house. In a back room, we met Ruth Russell, a 75-year-old woman in high spirits, in spite of her circumstances.

She was lying in bed. She greeted us with a smile and did not mind us sitting on the bed to talk with her and take pictures.

Her bedroom appeared unscathed by Matthew, but the rest of the house took a beating.

The electricity supply has not yet been restored, but Russell said someone brought a small generator, so she is grateful.

"I can come in my room and lay down and no rain in here," said Russell, who has lived at the residence since 1962. "... We will make it, I guess."

Russell said she recently had a visit from officials of the National Emergency Management Agency, but she did not know how she would rebuild.

For now, she passes the time, praying and hoping for the best, and remaining in high spirits, thankful to be alive, even though life has been so interrupted.

Candia Dames, Guardian Managing Editor

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