The fear and apprehension that accompanied Hurricane Gonzalo, after a surprise hit from Tropical Storm turned Hurricane Fay the weekend before, weighed heavily on Bermuda. But with the nervousness, came help, camaraderie and a sense of neighbourliness that I have only read about in books.

All of our neighbours came over to tarp down the part of the roof that had been swept away from Fay, in speedy preparation for Gonzalo’s imminent arrival.

We didn’t have to ask.

They just saw that we needed the help and came. They put efforts in our place as if it were their own, discussing how best to tie the tarp down and then not pausing until it was done.

At the hardware store and grocery store, the clerks were friendly and helpful, joking with us about our apparent need for DairyMilk Fruit & Nut bars, and instant coffee. Packing the essentials. Everyone wished everyone else to be safe, and all kept alert and ready for anyone needing extra assistance. One lady looked in our shopping basket in line at the checkout counter of the hardware store to see what emergency essentials she may have forgotten. “Duct Tape!” She yelped, and ran off to find it.

Because our place is at the top of a hill, and receives a heavy load of wind, we decided that it would be safer to stay with friends for the duration of the storm. Our friends down the road, kindly offered their limited space to us.

We didn’t have to ask.

We hunkered down with our hurricane kit and chocolate bars, shared food and watched zombie TV shows until the power went out, right at the good part of the show of course. Nestled within that little ground floor apartment that was embedded into the side of a terraced hill we were so protected that we could barely feel the storm. We could see the trees thrashing, but nothing was close enough to be an immediate threat. We were safe, and in good company. We were relaxed.

During the eye of the storm we all went outside to get some fresh air and look as far as we could without walking too far. The air looked like an emulsion of debris and water beads suspended in place. The lighthouse light, which had not gone out, lit the mist into a bright white glow as it spun around every few seconds. It was beautifully eerie and strangely peaceful, and it remained that way for about an hour until the wind picked up again.

With pressure of the storm, my head felt like there was a giant suction cup on it, squashing my skull in on itself. I lay down on the couch receiving cuddles from Dusty, the kitten, and fell asleep till morning.

When we were all awake, three of us went to survey the neighbourhood for damage. Many people were out walking with their children and their dogs, and many people who had been strangers just a day ago, were asking others if they were ok and if they had sustained damage from the storm. Then everyone would share stories of the previous night’s fear and today’s relief.

We went to see the house, which had lost another chunk of slate roof. The neighbours called over to us offering help.

We didn’t need to ask.

People were in the streets picking up lost and broken shutters, which were as good as trash now. They collected broken branches, labelled fallen wires with brightly coloured fabric, and raked up Bermuda’s leaves, all of which were now on the ground.

This beautiful view of community replicated itself throughout the entire island. People young and old: cleaning, repairing, sharing and contributing their supplies to others.

Lineups of cars were at the dump as they deposited waste and trash instead of waiting for the trash collectors to come. Some people even decided that this would be the perfect time for spring-cleaning, and got rid of many things that they no longer needed.

We collected our chunks of broken roof slate in a few carloads and joined the line at the dump. Everyone was so pleasant, greeting us with concern as they noted that we were disposing of our roof.

Bermuda has shown humility, kindness, and compassion towards others in the face of a storm.

Now in the fourth day after the storm and Bermudians are still working furiously to restore power to homes and clear the roadways. Bermudians are still looking out for each other.

It is amazing to see how just a little extra effort from many people, can affect large-scale change. It is beautiful. What’s even more beautiful is that we didn’t need to ask anyone to do it.

I wonder how long it will last.

I say this because as blissful as it is to bask in the glow of human compassion and kindness, it is just as important to acknowledge and address when things have gone completely wrong.

We cannot afford to sweep disgraceful behaviour under the carpet, hoping that it goes unnoticed. At the same time, we cannot play the blame game, pointing fingers at others when we are all equally responsible for a terrible awful.

Just a few months ago, I witnessed what I think was Bermuda’s most callous, uncaring and selfish behaviour. It resulted in a lengthy report that I wrote as part of BEachfest GREEN, a waste management initiative for large-scale events in Bermuda. The report showed a personality akin to Mr. Hyde. from Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, contrasting largely from the Hurricane Community that emerged in the face of a natural disaster.

An estimated 9.69 US tons of personal belongings - turned waste, were left abandoned on Horseshoe Bay Beach this past July 31, 2014. Being part of the clean up crew on that day, and the day after, I can tell you that I had never seen so much litter strewn about in my life. It was as if people had left their entire campsites – cooler, tent, table and all, and had just walked away leaving the mess behind for someone else to clean up. In the days after Beachfest, I was disgusted and felt extremely sad for humanity. This was clearly a case of self-destruction.

It seemed as though the public’s planning for this much-anticipated annual event stopped at their arrival to the event, but not beyond it. People planned for group activities, meals, sun protection, intoxicants, and fashion, but didn’t seem to incorporate into that plan, a way to take all these things home afterwards, and even worse: a plan to get themselves home safely.

When large populations behave in this way, the negative effect becomes obvious.

Individual careless actions compound themselves into a huge strain for the small group of people, organisations like Keep Bermuda Beautiful, BEST, Greenrock, Chewstick, and government bodies who must clean up.

If 70 per cent of the people at Beachfest consumed just two Wicked’s or Heineken’s throughout the course of the day, that alone, would create approximately 3696 lbs of glass waste. Heavy.

If each of those same people took those bottles home and disposed of them appropriately from there (ie. Placed in the blue recycling bag), they would each be carrying home less than a pound of glass waste. As for the rest of the waste, people just need to pack less, so that there is less to take home after the event.

This behaviour starkly contrasts the same island of people that prepared, packed and planned for the arrival of a hurricane, planned for community cooperation during the hurricane and planned to be cleaning up for days after a Hurricane.

When the solution is so simple, it makes me wonder why we need to ask.

After Beachfest I was left with questions like: How can people leave this world-class beach looking like a dump? How can people be so uncaring of their surroundings? Why do people get so intoxicated that they can barely lift themselves off the ground? Why can’t people pack up what they brought to the beach and take it home? How can people not realize that Bermuda is small, and this beach is their backyard?

How can people not see that what they choose to do as individuals is compounded when many others make the same choices?

And the last question is really the one that makes all the difference. Because we can see clearly that a little effort from a lot of people can change things for the better, and a little disregard from a lot of people can create a landscape resembling the aftermath of a natural disaster.

Together, we create beauty and positive energy around us by doing what we can, by being helpful, by sharing and by treating others and our surroundings just as we would like to be treated. Or, we create a depressing landscape where we choose to not help, where we behave selfishly and treat others as objects: either as obstacles or as useful tools insofar as they pertain to our lives.

I am leaving Bermuda now with mixed feelings. I feel hope after having been witness to the past few days surrounding Hurricane Gonzalo, but I also feel uneasy, because I have seen the stress and devastation created by the same people in Bermuda only a few months ago.

I have been called an idealist on many occasions, but I’d like to think that I am a somewhat paradoxical pragmatic idealist. My hope is that by connecting these two incidents, perhaps there is a small chance that some people will see how important it is to live every day as they have lived in the days surrounding Hurricane Gonzalo.

Where people cooperate because it makes things easier for everyone; where we have a community where we don’t need to ask.

The smiles, the laughter, the optimism, the help, the energy has been a glorious representation of how we should behave all the time. Not just when we are under the threat of something bigger than us.

Please, remember what this feels like, and hang on to it by living like this every day. A little effort goes a long way.