A Storm in Senegal

July 11th 2009
10:07

How you experience a storm in Senegal, is different than how you would
in the States. How people live here, even in the cities is full of
fresh air. Airconditioning is a grand luxury. A fan is only for those
with electricity and money to slowly burn. Most people escape the heat
by the shade of a large tree, beautifully woven hand fans and ataaya,
a thick tea infused with copious amounts of sugar. One finds here that
life is at the mercy of the natural elements. Instead of the Western
conviences that shield humans from nature, people are forced to adapt
to whatever nature throws their way. To me, the rainy season is the
perfect example of this.

In Kolda in the Casamance, the land is so flat that you can see the
storm coming from miles away. You can see flashes of lightening for
hours. As the storm gets closer the bolts of lightening almost seem to
surround you, there is no rain. You expect that at any moment the wave
of water will hit you but it doesn't happen. It's an optical illusion.
The real storm is still far away.
You know that the moment of truth is coming when you feel a strong
cold breeze. The breeze will suddenly negate all of the sweating that
occured in the proceding moments. You'll wake up and know that the
game has changed. No longer are you looking to beat the humid heat and
trying to ventitlate your sweatbox but now you must seal your room
against the elements and those things that are trying to escape the
down pour. You jump on your feet. Run outside and grab anything that
will be ruined by the dampness. You close your shutters just enough to
stop most of the rain but to still allow alittle air in. You tie down
anything that will bang around in the wind and leave you sleep
deprived nor do you want to batten it down midstorm.
Finally you close your door. You stuff the bottom of the door with
rags to block any invaders that have found their homes flooded and
wish to be a guest in yours. After this it is time to go back into
your bed. You tuck the mosquito net into the edges of the bed which is
another layer of protection from the creepy crawlies. You lay on your
bed and listen to the pitter patter of the storm as it grows. You feel
little sprays of water that have some how made it through the window,
through the screen and through the mosquito net. You hope that the
plastic tarp above your bed that you carefully arranged is going to
stop all the leaks from the old zinc roof.
You lay on your bed listening to all of the clamor outside. The pang
of raindrops on the roof vary from little pin drops to the sound of an
endless supply of pennies that God has cast away.
The sound of wind in the mango trees, thunder and the rythme of rain
act as a lullabye while you lay there. You think about how late the
rains are this year. You wonder if your friends in the village will
have enough food to feed their families this coming year. You wonder
if God is good and life is fair. You slowly drift away to sleep as the
storm rages. A large bang half roases you, you wonder if a long rotten
mango has finally succumbed to the downward call of gravity. You hear
the winds blow, you wonder if the mango tree is next to fall on your
hut. At this moment it doesn't matter to you, its not your place to
worry about it, Si Allah Jaabi, if God wills it. You fall asleep in a
dreamless slumber.