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Last week British authorities finally came forward with plans to resettle the remaining populace. The destroyer H.M.S. Liverpool moved into position off the north coast in case of an emergency evacuation. Local officials began registering people for a voluntary-relocation program that would take them to neighboring islands, where they would be put up in hotel rooms. London has agreed to pay passage to England for those wishing to resettle there.
Many people still don't want to leave. Some, fearing they will never be able to return, cannot quite believe their old life is gone. Others refuse to budge until the government compensates them for their losses. Montserrat officials asked the British government to pay evacuees $14,800 for each head of household, $11,111 for each additional adult and $7,407 for each child, but islanders complain that even this is not enough to make a fresh start in a foreign land. Many are getting bills for mortgages on homes that no longer exist, and their debts are mounting. "What are we supposed to do?" said an irate policeman. "Leave here and go on the dole?" Last Wednesday more than 200 people marched on the home of the island's British Governor, Frank Savage, demanding that the British government offer them more adequate compensation and promise to protect their land after their departure. "I want to leave, but I don't have the means," said protester Margaret Ryan, 41, who lost her home in the June 25 eruption. "Everything I had was tied up in my home."
The chief minister, Bertrand Osborne, resigned after the protests and was replaced Friday by a critic of British policy, David Brandt. Meanwhile Britain offered about $4,000 for each adult and $1,000 for each child who accepts a relocation package.
The crisis has been woefully mishandled from the start. Though it has been two years since the volcano became an obvious threat, there has been no general announcement of what people should do in the event of an emergency evacuation. The government has not undertaken any significant construction of temporary housing, and some shelters were in areas now deemed unsafe. There has been plenty of finger pointing, but it is unclear where the blame for the current situation truly lies. Montserrat has its own elected local government, yet remains a British colony. And so, Montserratians argue, Britain has an obligation to assist them.
Montserrat residents who stubbornly refuse to go are living in appalling conditions. Two-thirds of the island lies under a blanket of ash. Just a couple of restaurants and one gas station still function, and the hospital, now housed in a school, cannot care for the seriously ill. Nearly 1,500 people are consigned to the shelters that occupy every remaining church and school. At Gerald's Park, small children and adults are crowded in, 30 to a tent. In some shelters, there is one toilet for 50 people.
Basha Lewis, 34, a farmer, decided last week that he had had enough. With his wife and three sons, he reluctantly boarded a ferry bound for Antigua, heading for London and an uncertain future. "I don't know what I will do when I get there," he said. "But the only choice I have is to put my best foot forward." There's no fighting the volcano. All the people of Montserrat can do is get out of its way.