We were evacuated from our homes by Hurricane Irma - to a university in Preston

At the end of summer, a week before medical students at the American University of the Caribbean (AUC) were due back at their St Maarten campus for a new term, reports suggested that a category three hurricane was on its way. A day before Irma hit, her category rocketed to five. Catastrophic damage was expected. 

When she saw the severity warning change, Darlene Gumbs, 35, the only St Maarten native studying at AUC, asked her father for advice. “He said nothing, absolutely no words,” she recalls. “The next thing I knew, he was outside on the roof properly reinforcing things. He wouldn’t talk. I guess he knew what was about to happen.”

Near the airport, Gumbs’ fellow student David Townsend, 37, searched for flights back to the United States but, for his family of four, it would have cost around $10,000 (£7,500). Instead, he taped up the windows on the home he shared with his wife and two young sons, stocked the cupboards with food, and put a paddling pool in the shower to fill with water.

The university contacted the 650 or so medical students on the island, most of whom were from the United States, and told them to pack four days’ worth of clothes, food and water, and come to campus to shelter in one of its hurricane-proof buildings.

When Elizabeth, 26, and Benjamin Zenger, 27, arrived with their daughter Maggie, who was nearly two, people were already gathering supplies and turning a simulation room into an emergency medical centre. Tina Sharma, 23, who had caught the tail end of Hurricane Harvey at her Houston home a fortnight before, was helping to prepare it for minor casualties.  

As the hurricane swept in, with sustained winds of 185 miles per hour, buildings shook, windows smashed, roofs were ripped clean off and cars rolled over. The rain fell sideways and palm trees were bent horizontal. Irma took 134 lives across the Caribbean, four of which were in St Maarten. The landscape and infrastructure devastated, it left people without electricity, clean water or the internet.

The morning after the storm, Gumbs found a 40-foot container in her yard, which had flown at least 100 metres. Her house had lost a third of its roof; but it was one of the lucky ones. Around 80 per cent of roofs in Gumbs’ neighbourhood disappeared and two men in their 30s died. “My entire family is from the island so we’ve dealt with hurricanes before. This is definitely the worst we’ve ever seen or experienced,” she says. “It caught everyone off guard.”

The Zengers were one of many families who lost the roof to their house. “It looked like a whirlwind happened inside,” says Elizabeth. “There were clothes everywhere, it was like they’d been sucked out of the wardrobe.” Benjamin adds: “But the hats were still on the hat stand.” As there was no running water, the couple bathed in their pool, which was filled with broken branches, glass and cinder blocks.

“We saved some presents we had for Maggie’s birthday, which we gave to her early because we knew we were going to have to leave them,” says Benjamin. They have a picture of her dressed as Belle from Beauty and the Beast in a yellow ball gown with a braid. “It’s a bittersweet photo because she’s so happy but the background is totally bleak.”

American military planes were sent a few days later to evacuate the students to Chicago. “It was so sad,” says Benjamin. “We expected to have another year on St Maarten. It didn’t feel right to leave the way we did.” The Zengers abandoned their home and possessions, which have been left to rot. 

Leaving was painful for Gumbs, who forgot her glasses in the rush to pack a small bag and say goodbye to her family. “I didn’t particularly want to leave, I wanted to stay, help rebuild and volunteer at the hospital,” she says. “But my parents said, ‘You need to continue your education, you have to go’. I’ve never left my family in a condition like that. They had no power, no running water, no phone, no internet.”

Gumbs’ sister's house, which her brother-in-law had only recently finished building, was completely flattened. Despite the devastation, her overriding feeling was happiness at being alive. “You don’t get too broken up about losing things. Within hours everyone’s just talking about rebuilding,” she says. 

Although the university campus weathered the storm, the collapse of infrastructure on the island meant it would have been impossible for classes to begin. But thanks to the medical department’s link with the East Lancashire NHS Trust, it was suggested that the 700 students and staff might be accommodated within a temporary faculty at the University of Central Lancashire (UCLAN). 

“The AUC was looking to keep all the students together to continue with their programme elsewhere,” says Professor Mike Thomas, vice-chancellor of UCLAN. “It was serendipitous that the East Lancashire NHS Trust had a link with them and it was our freshers’ week, so we had welcome packs and accommodation ready.” 

When I meet the four AUC students in their new home in Preston, there are few signs they were violently uprooted three months earlier. In his house, Townsend lays out a spread of macaroni cheese, tortilla wraps and nachos with dip, as the children watch Beauty and the Beast on television.

“The city of Preston has been stellar,” says Townsend. His wife Kerri adds: “It feels more like home than on a beach.” 

Preston itself has experienced a mini-economic boom following the students’ arrival, with sales of coats, gloves and stationery rocketing. A fortnight after they landed in September, the students had their first lecture on UCLAN’s campus, which they are using on evenings and weekends. Recently, they all passed their first module.

“They’ve been through a horrible experience and they just want to get their heads down,” says Professor Thomas. “They’re uniformly polite, pleasant, and have gone down well with the local pubs, shops and students.”

For their part, the students are happy in Preston, where some will be until January, others until the summer. “I definitely like the people,” says Gumbs. “If it wasn’t for the weather, I could stay here.” St Maarten has an annual average temperature of 26 degrees Celsius; Preston’s is 16C. 

Back on the island, some progress has been made towards rebuilding. Gumbs’ family now has power and some limited internet. Aid from Holland and France is helping subsidise the money lost from the collapse of tourism, as well as providing much-needed supplies such as medication. “It’s definitely going to take a couple of years to rebuild,” says Gumbs. “But it’s functional right now. Businesses are open and people are doing the best they can.”

In Preston, UCLAN is hosting a Christmas Day party for around 1,000 people, including the St Maarten students and others who can’t go home. “It’s a chance for people to spend the day together, rather than in their student accommodation, looking at the wall,” says Professor Thomas. “Don’t ask how many turkeys we’re cooking on Christmas morning. I stopped counting at 40.”

Army chefs, local chefs and university volunteers will help bring the day together. Having celebrated Thanksgiving together in November, the students and their families are excited and want to make the most of their time in the UK.

“Festive lights on palm trees isn’t a patch on a British Christmas,” says Townsend. 

Looking at the early December snow, Sharma adds, “I hope I get to see a white snow Christmas.”