ACAPULCO, Mexico (AP) 鈥 Estela Sandoval D铆az was huddled in her tiny concrete bathroom, sure these were the final moments of her life, when Hurricane Otis ripped off her tin roof.
With it went clothing, savings, furniture, photos and 33 years of the life Sandoval built piece-by-piece on the forgotten fringes of Acapulco, Mexico.
Sandoval was among hundreds of thousands of people whose lives were torn apart when the fastest intensifying hurricane on record in the Eastern Pacific shredded the coastal city of 1 million, leaving at least 45 dead. The Category 5 hurricane damaged nearly all of Acapulco鈥檚 homes, left bodies bobbing along the coastline and much of the city foraging for food.
While authorities were hard at work restoring order in Acapulco鈥檚 tourist center 鈥 cutting through trees in front of high-rise hotels and restoring power 鈥 the city鈥檚 poorest like Sandoval said they felt abandoned. She and hundreds of thousands of others lived two hours of terror last week, and now face years of work to repair their already precarious lives.
鈥淭he government doesn鈥檛 even know we exist,鈥 Sandoval said. 鈥淭hey鈥檝e only ever taken care of the resort areas, the pretty places of Acapulco. They鈥檝e always forgotten us.鈥
It鈥檚 a sentiment that has long simmered in the resort city, but has grown as many accuse the government of leaving them to fend for themselves after Otis hit.
President Andr茅s Manuel L贸pez Obrador has deployed more than 15,000 troops to deal with the hurricane鈥檚 aftermath along with 1,000 government workers to determine needs.
鈥淓veryone will be supported, count on us,鈥 he pledged last week.
Sandoval and her family have spent decades living a stone鈥檚 throw away from the beachside high-rises and luxury stores lining Acapulco鈥檚 chicest district, the Diamond Zone.
Living in a two-room concrete house with no potable water and unpaved roads, that glamor never reached their doorstep. Referred to by locals as the 鈥渟unken neighborhood,鈥 Viverista is always hit hardest by natural disasters.
Three years ago, Sandoval beamed with pride when, after 25 years of saving, she put a foot of concrete on the floor and a new metal roof on her house so it wouldn鈥檛 flood every time it rained. But that seemed a lifetime away Friday as Sandoval and her children picked through their soggy remains.
鈥淚 was so happy because finally I had a sturdy roof, and my house was finally beautiful. But now 鈥 this is the first time I鈥檝e been able to cry 鈥 I don鈥檛 know what we鈥檙e going to do,鈥 the 59-year-old said. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 think I鈥檒l live another 20 years to fix it.鈥
Their home was surrounded by ankle-deep putrid water. Sandoval, her husband and two neighbors were sleeping under a sheet of metal propped against the house.
Mexico鈥檚 government has tallied at least 220,000 homes damaged and says 47 people remain missing. Most residents expect those figures to rise.
On Saturday, L贸pez Obrador blasted critics of his hurricane response, saying journalists and the political opposition had exaggerated the casualties.
鈥淭hey don鈥檛 care about people鈥檚 pain, they want to hurt us. What they want is for there to be a lot of death so they can blame us,鈥 L贸pez Obrador said.
Sandoval and her husband slept until the 165-mph (266-kph) winds and crash of trees woke them at midnight. They sprinted out of the house to a set of square-meter (yard) concrete bathrooms, clinging to the plastic doors the hurricane threatened to tear off.
When she emerged around 2 a.m., peering through a steady drizzle, she saw her furniture soaked and her fridge, stove and other possessions destroyed. She said she could 鈥渟mell the sadness in the air.鈥
With sparse food, water and gasoline, and no cellphone service, Sandoval and her family could do little more than scavenge for supplies in bare supermarkets. Avid supporters of L贸pez Obrador, they crossed their fingers the president would follow through on his promise.
鈥淲hen you鈥檙e completely enveloped by something like this 鈥 so fragile, so violent 鈥 you ask yourself, when are they going to come?鈥 she said.
Following the storm, the city descended into a state of lawlessness. Trees and rubble blocked the main road for a day, and no cellphone signal left its 1 million people effectively cut off from the world.
By the weekend, cellphone signal was being restored, aid was being distributed and the military cleared trees and rubble from the city center, a stark contrast with poor areas where chaos still reigned.
Fisherman Eleazar Garc铆a Ramirez, 52, was still wrapping his mind around the devastation as he tinkered inside a boat with a cracked mast on the beach surrounded by the remains of boats and broken trees.
He had spent recent days diving into the ocean to pull out bloated bodies bobbing next to sunken boats, he said.
He weathered the storm on a fishing boat, asked by his boss to watch over it. He said he was scared not doing so would mean losing his job.
鈥淭his is what we survive off of, and there鈥檚 not a lot of work in Acapulco,鈥 he said.
He and other coastal workers said the vast majority of the dead were fishermen afraid of losing their livelihood or yacht captains told by richer boat owners they needed to care for the boats. Authorities said most of the bodies they鈥檇 found in recent days had drowned.
He and other fishermen pulled the boats onto the city鈥檚 Manzanilla Beach when Otis was still a Category 2 storm. A friend was watching over a boat 20 meters up the beach.
The boat Garc铆a Ramirez was in was pulled into the waves when he heard screams of 鈥渉elp me!鈥 as he clung to the boat鈥檚 metal poles.
When he finally peered out into the dark night he saw his friend鈥檚 boat floating alone at sea. His friend never appeared.
鈥淚t鈥檚 sad because there are many people that didn鈥檛 need to be on their boats, but their bosses decided that we鈥檙e worth nothing," he said. "They鈥檙e not interested in the well-being of their workers, all they care about is their own economic well-being.鈥
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Associated Press photographer F茅lix M谩rquez in Acapulco, Mexico, contributed to this report.
