Hurricane Maria's 8-Year Anniversary

Floor Speech

BREAK IN TRANSCRIPT

Mr. HERNANDEZ. For the benefit of my constituents and the communities affected, I will offer my remarks in Spanish.

Hoy me paro aqui con la voz prestada de un pueblo que no olvida. Hace ocho anos, el 20 de septiembre, Puerto Rico amanecio desgarrado--no solo en terminos de su infraestructura pero en cuanto al alma de su gente. El huracan Maria no fue solo un fenomeno atmosferico, sino una odisea que dolorosamente reflejo la fortaleza del pueblo de Puerto Rico y de lo que ocurre cuando se combina el colapso de la infraestructura con anos de negligencia institucional.

Por eso, hoy me honra presentar una resolucion para conmemorar este aniversario solemne, para reconocer a quienes se perdieron, a quienes resistieron, y a un pueblo que se levanto con dignidad frente al abandono.

Se cayeron los techos. Se apago la luz. Pero quizas lo mas doloroso fue el silencio. No solo la falta de comunicacion, sino la ausencia de respuesta efectiva, de coordinacion, de urgencia. Ese vacio se sintio como el silencio dentro del ojo del huracan: una calma enganosa, que no promete alivio, sino que anuncia que lo peor aun esta por llegar.

Recuerdo a los viejitos cargando cubos de agua por lomas empinadas. Madres haciendo fila por hielo para conservar la insulina. Vecinos compartiendo una planta electrica como quien comparte un pedazo de esperanza. Y recuerdo a muchos--a demasiados--que murieron sin que su nombre contara en una estadistica oficial. Mas de 4,000 vidas. No fue una cifra. Fue una negligencia.

Pero los nuestros no esperaron permiso para sobrevivir. Rescataron a sus vecinos con sogas y machetes. Improvisaron clinicas. Reabrieron escuelas sin electricidad. Maria no solo destruyo edificios. Nos robo a abuelas, a padres, a hijos, que murieron no por el viento, sino por el abandono. Y esa es una verdad que debe doler. Que debe incomodar. Porque el olvido tambien es una forma de violencia.

Tantas conversaciones sobre los problemas que enfrenta Puerto Rico hoy, especialmente en terminos de problemas de infraestructura, empiezan con mencionar al huracan Maria. ``Desde Maria'', dicen. Y creo que, de tanto repetirlo, se nos olvida el dolor. El horror.

Por eso, hoy mas que reclamar, quiero recordar. Recordar a los que no vivieron para contar su historia. Recordar a los que sobrevivieron, pero cargan cicatrices invisibles. Recordar lo que el pais tuvo que hacer, solo, para poder respirar.

Porque honrar a los que sobrevivieron--y a los que no--exige mas que memoria: exige justicia.

Hoy seguimos luchando por reconstruir nuestra red electrica, por modernizar nuestra infraestructura, por garantizar servicios de salud resilientes y acceso digno a la vivienda. Seguimos luchando por energia confiable, por justicia social, y por un trato justo ante la ley.

Puerto Rico siguio adelante porque su gente nunca se rindio. Porque en medio del caos, y la oscuridad, fue la solidaridad, el valor y la dignidad del pueblo lo que sostuvo la isla. Esa es la verdad que no se puede ignorar ni borrar. Porque aunque Maria fue una herida profunda, la respuesta de nuestra gente fue una de fuerza indomable. Y aunque aun estamos sanando, seguimos adelante. Seguimos adelante, con la mirada puesta en la reconstruccion y en un futuro digno.

(English translation of the statement made in Spanish is as follows:)

Today I stand here with the voice borrowed from a people who do not forget. Eight years ago, on September 20, Puerto Rico woke up torn--not only in terms of its infrastructure but in the very soul of its people. Hurricane Maria was not just a meteorological event, but an odyssey that painfully reflected the strength of the people of Puerto Rico and what happens when the collapse of infrastructure is combined with years of institutional neglect.

That is why today I am honored to introduce a resolution to commemorate this solemn anniversary--to recognize those we lost, those who endured, and a people who rose with dignity in the face of abandonment.

Roofs collapsed. The lights went out. But perhaps the most painful thing was the silence. Not just the lack of communication, but the absence of an effective response, of coordination, and of urgency. That void felt like the silence inside the eye of the hurricane: a deceptive calm, which does not promise relief, but rather announces that the worst is yet to come.

I remember the elderly carrying buckets of water up steep hills. Mothers lining up for ice to keep insulin cold. Neighbors sharing a generator like someone sharing a piece of hope. And I remember many-- too many--who died without their names being counted in an official statistic. More than 4,000 lives. It wasn't a number. It was negligence.

But our people did not wait for permission to survive. They rescued their neighbors with ropes and machetes. They improvised clinics. They reopened schools without electricity. Maria didn't just destroy buildings. It stole from us grandmothers, parents, children, who died not from the wind, but from abandonment. And that is a truth that should hurt. Which should make us uncomfortable. Because forgetting is also a form of violence.

So many conversations about the problems Puerto Rico faces today, especially in terms of infrastructure problems, begin with mentioning Hurricane Maria. ``From Maria,'' they say. And I think that, by repeating it so often, we forget the pain. The horror.

Therefore, today more than complaining, I want to remember. Remember those who did not live to tell their story. Remember those who survived, but carry invisible scars. Remember what the island had to do, alone, to be able to breathe.

Because honoring those who survived--and those who did not--demands more than memory: it demands justice.

Today we continue fighting to rebuild our electrical grid, to modernize our infrastructure, to guarantee resilient health services and dignified access to housing. We continue to fight for reliable energy, for social justice, and for equal treatment under the law.

Puerto Rico kept going because its people never gave up. Because in the midst of chaos and darkness, it was the solidarity, courage and dignity of the people that sustained the island. That is the truth that cannot be ignored or erased. Because although Maria was a deep wound, the response of our people was one of unbreakable strength. And although we are still healing, we move forward. We move forward, with our eyes set on reconstruction and a dignified future.

BREAK IN TRANSCRIPT

Source