The Rain's Are No Joke

Toto, wasn't lying! I have never in all my 24 years of life seen anything like the rains here in Africa. My fellow trainees and I finished our daily work in the garden around 8:30 pm; as we were all circled discussing the days accomplishments and the plans for the next days work, I noticed a large cloud mass coming from the eastern horizon. The clouds were black, but not the typical dark clouds of home that signify a major rainstorm approaching. This mass of ominous coloration stretched from ground to sky, pieces of tan and topee began whizzing by our collective heads at an incredible rate.

When we arrived in Mauritania we were informed of the approaching rainy season and the dangers of the weather. We had been taught that major sandstorms typically preceded major rains and to be very weary of the sandstorms. The were described to us as a "20 story wall of sand." Since I had heard such a description, I had tried to envision what this might look like; I didn't need to imagine anymore. One of my site mates had left her water bottle at the garden, and since my house was the closest to hers out of the rest, I was honored with the responsibility of returning it to her. As I approached her residence I could see the moving wall a few kilometers outside of town. Believing that I had enough time to make it the 100 meters from her house to mine and back again. I decided to hustle over and return the bottle--very stupid decision.

As I made it to her front door, the sand began to fly in perfect streak formation. She opened up the door; I tossed the bottle in and turned around to return home. My host mom's voice could be heard against the strong wind, screaming at me to get inside my house and shut the windows. Even though I've lost 25 lbs thus far, I still hold a significant mass and thought that I could manage the short distance back. As I crested the little hill that separated our houses a gust of wind came from behind me with such force that I was pressed to the ground. I couldn't even begin to guesstimate the strength of that blast of wind, but I am certain of the amount of pain the accompanying sand caused to my skin. As if every inch of exposed skin was at the mercy of a sand belt, I crawled toward the heap of timber that was stacked near the little mud-oven bakery so I could have a chance at least to stand up and make it the last 20 meters to my door. Fight as I could against the sand coming now at me horizontally, I was able to lean into the wind to avoid being pushed back down and awkwardly 'walk' to my front door. The wind slamming it behind me was a reminder of the infantic existence we have with Mother Nature.

No sooner than I cleaned layers of sand batter from my sweat soaked face and neck did the rain begin. The most beautifully intense pounding of sweet cold water turned the sand surrounding my house into a moat of slushy mud. Our entire village became a flooded sandbox in a matter of five minutes. Torrents of rain beat down upon everything with hammerous sounds. As the sheets began to subside into a manageable deluge, I ventured outside to marvel and pay my my respects to the awesome power that are "the rains down in Africa!"