'How will I live?': Nathaniel Matabheek lost his wife and three children in a single night

The question hangs in the air long after Nathaniel Matabheek asks it. “How will I live?” A week ago, the 28-year-old had a wife he adored and three children who filled his home with noise, laughter and constant demands for attention. Today, he has memories. His wife, Rachel Wells, and their three children – eight-year-old Nathaniel Jr., five-year-old Natalia and three-year-old Ezekiel – were among those who died when the MV Barima sank off Guyana’s coast last Saturday. Nathaniel survived. It is something he still struggles to understand. “I lost my whole family,” he says quietly. The tears come often. And a lot. Sometimes he stops speaking altogether. Nathaniel first met Rachel years ago when she travelled from her home village of Smith Creek in Guyana’s North West District to attend a church convention. “I was going to church as normal,” he recalls. “They came for the convention and I saw her and I liked her.” There was no dramatic courtship. “I chose her. I fell in love with her just so.” He sought her parents’ blessing before asking her to marry him. “They agreed.” His wife, Rachel Wells, and their three children – eight-year-old Nathaniel Jr., five-year-old Natalia and three-year-old Ezekiel – were among those who died when the MV Barima sank off Guyana’s coast last Saturday. Their wedding was simple. “We didn’t do a big thing. Just a normal thing after signing the papers.” What followed, he says, was ten years of happiness. “We lived for 10 years, happy.” “We lived in love and made three nice children.” His face brightens for a moment when he speaks about them. “They liked to run.” “They liked to go to church. If I didn’t want to go, they would force me.” He smiles. “The little girl more would do that mostly.” Rachel had one wish. She wanted to go home. She had not seen her village for nine years. Work and family life kept delaying the journey. The family had planned the trip before but missed the sailing of a larger vessel. “If we had waited two days more, we would have gone with the big boat.” But Rachel didn’t want to wait. “They called her and told her not to go on that boat.” “So we decided to go.” It would be the last decision they made together. The family settled in after boarding the MV Barima. They talked. The children eventually fell asleep. Nathaniel tried to do the same. Something kept bothering him. “I didn’t have a right mind and couldn’t sleep.” Rachel complained that one of her feet had become numb. “I rubbed her foot.” Then he heard something. “The boat was making a sound.” He leaned over to his brother Adam. “I told him something wasn’t right.” Shortly after, the ferry rolled over. “The boat just so quick and capsized.” Nathaniel says he has only fragments of memory from that moment. “I get bazodee.” “I didn’t know what happened.” Passengers screamed. Water rushed in. He found himself in the sea. “I swam for a long time without anything to hold on to.” He searched desperately for Rachel. For the children. He saw nothing. The darkness swallowed everything. Then, by chance, a white plastic fuel container floated towards him. “That saved my life.” “Or I would have drowned too.” Somewhere in the darkness, voices answered his cries. His younger brother Adam. Adam’s wife, Carlita. The three eventually found one another. And Carlita, who can’t swim, found a woman, Loureen, who could swim and she suggested the woman hang on to her with her life jacket. They all survived. Thirty-two-year-old Adam Matabheek, his wife Carlita Matabheek Around them was only open sea. “We prayed and prayed,” Nathaniel says. Hours passed. His brother reached breaking point. “My brother said he couldn’t make it.” Still they drifted. Waiting for daylight. Waiting for rescue. Waiting for a miracle. It came only for them. “Thank the Lord,” Nathaniel says. “We survived.” Rachel and the children did not. Now Nathaniel searches for meaning where none seems to exist. He thinks about the trip they almost postponed. He thinks about Rachel’s parents asking her not to travel. He thinks about rubbing her foot just minutes before the vessel capsized. Most of all, he thinks about the life they built together. “I really loved she,” he says. “She was a very, very good girl.” “I respect her.” “When you are with her, you can’t starve.” “If you ask her to do something, she would do it right away.” On Friday, Nathaniel will lay to rest the woman he fell in love with at church and the three children they raised together. There are no plans now. No journey to Smith Creek. No family reunion. Only a quiet house and a question that no one can answer. “How will I live?”