Wet, wet, wet.
You may recall that I mentioned the weather in my last piece.
Well guess what, I am going to talk about it again. Not that I want to bore you rigid about it, or because I originated from Mud Island and that always seems to be the favourite topic of conversation there.
But because it is truly astounding. When I last wrote I had, had my nights sleeping out arrangements changed by the rain, now it is changing people’s lives.
It was Saturday when I wrote and it is now Tuesday and it has hardly stopped raining since. So what I hear you say, it rains for months non-stop in Cornwall. And, yes I have to agree with you, but when, as was recorded on my friends farm yesterday they had 95mm in one and a half hours. It tends to get a tad damp under foot.
It was five past four when I woke this morning and I could not fathom the reason.
Yes the rain was still pounding down on the single skin asbestos roof. An amazing overture of constant raindrops that almost joined as one to form the background rhythm, then the funky almost melodic beat of the larger drips compounding then dropping from the leaves and branches with a symmetry that was almost hypnotic. I lay there listening to the novel music for a few minutes and was gently lulled back to sleep again. Suddenly I was wide awake again, feeling something on my arm, then it was gone, I drifted again, only to be thrust awake again. I laid there coming round a bit quicker this time then realised what it was.
The water was now coming through the roof running along the beams and dripping down onto the Mozi net where the drips were dissipated into a heavy spray rather than a drip. They were slowly soaking me.
I read for a while as I knew sleep was gone for the night, I read until, when I turned the pages of the book they disintegrated and the book became too sodden and heavy to hold.
Ironically I decided a shower might help. And maybe less ironically there was water for a change. As soon as it was light (which was later than normal due to the grey sky) I thought that I would take advantage of the extra time I had this morning, and took a stroll round the camp in the rain. To see the effects of the water.
It was quite spectacular, the cottage nearest the dam was up to its DPC in water, the normal tranquil waters of the dam were a mass of seething muddy morass. And the water level has come up a good ten inches. Where it is normally mirror still there is now a current flowing across the dam at a good 20 km/h. The sound of a waterfall now verging on obtrusive, from the other end of the dam, where the water normally, gently spills over the dam wall and trickles under the track, it now flows a good foot over the top.
It’s hardly surprising there were drips coming through my roof and it’s still pouring down.
I left for work as normal with an inkling that the bridge at the bottom of the valley might just be impassable. True enough impassable was an understatement. The Amazon rain forest, it seemed had washed downstream overnight, landed up against the bridge and was desperately trying to drag the bridge itself downstream too. (See picture) So round I turned and took the long way to work. (one and a half hours as opposed to twenty seven minutes.)
Mid morning, and I had to make a call across town, the rain had eased but there were still puddles the size of an Olympic pool every couple of hundred yards. Then once again the heavens opened, it was more a waterfall than rain, I can honestly say it was the heaviest rain I have ever seen, and I have seen monsoons. The effect this had on the roads that were already full to capacity was devastating. The water level rose feet in minutes. The world’s favourite car the Toyota Corolla (of which there are probably more of here than people) drowned, they just could not handle the amount of water. They were giving up the ghost left right and centre, the water was up past the trim on the door and over the wheels, the only things still moving were 4 x 4’s and busses, all of which were creating tremendous bow waves that were not assisting the plight of the Corolla. I don’t know if you have ever seen one of those duck races where the release hundreds of those yellow plastic numbered ducks into a river and they race down the river. Well that was the scene down Chandwe Musonda Road about twelve thirty today, except they were Corolla’s not ducks.
I made it back to the office only to find the yard and car park that normally bore the neat painted lines demarcating the parking spaces resembled more the Helston boating lake. (without the Ducks and geese)
The water had reached a level where it was now flowing into the reception and was threatening to lift all the parquet flooring down the passage.
It’s not a week since all the pessimists and tree huggers of Lusaka were saying what a terrible drought we were having and speculating that we had seen the last rains for the season all the crops would die, the dams would be empty and it was the end of agriculture in Zambia. And it was all the fault of “Global Warming” caused by people in Chelsea driving four wheel drive vehicles.
I notice it is no longer “Global Warming” but “Climate Change” so they can blame any glitch in the weather hot or cold, dry or wet on those who choose to drive a substantial vehicle.
I just giggle and wonder how many of those “blame it on others” were driving around Lusaka today in Toyota Corolla’s, and will go home tonight and throw their sodden clothes into their 200kw tumble driers.
I’m just glad it’s raining and wish there was a way we could just manage the storage of this invaluable commodity better.
P.S.
Since writing this I found out that today, three people were swept off the bridge in the picture. Trying to cross to get to School and work. The man who was swept off has been taken to hospital and is in a critical condition.
The grandmother and her grandson have not been found and are presumed dead as nether could swim.
My thoughts go out to them and their families. Africa is a hard and unforgiving place.
Denzil Bark.
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