25 June 2009

Monsoon is Come

Three weeks of waiting. It has been driving me bonkers. You may choose to blame my recent irritibility on the sudden lack of living space I have developed since my brtoher moved in. You may choose to blame it on the fact that no one had any work for me until the month before I left. I choose the blame it on the fact that it has been stinking hot, occaisionally overcast but never raining and that monsoon has been pending for 3 weeks.

Well it arrived today and in amazing fashion. 5 minutes prior to me leaving work the heavens opened up with all manner of cats and dogs whining, barking and screeching their way through the sky to come crashing down all around us. It was like a cyclone. Perhaps if you are a Tracey, Larry or Katrina survivor then you will disagree. I mean, the only experience I had of any of those is that the price of bananas went up to $12/kilo for about 6 months. But this was insane, like nothing you have ever seen (assuming of course that you are not a Tracey, Larry or Katrina survivor). There were no rain drops, just sheets weighing metric f-tonne's and washing everything in sight away.

The brief 2 second dash from the carpark to the front gate through the sheets of cyclone-like rain had myself, Swifty and my bag completely drenched. Quite astutely I decided against riding home, and subjecting Reeta-didi to washing mud slash poo slash whatever other refuse is kicked up off the ground in a storm from my clothes. Plan was to a) find a taxi with a roof rack for my bike or b) the staff bus to get me and Swifty home.

The bus driver, who up unto this point (about 49 weeks into my experience) has done a bang-up job of not being able to speak much English at all, told me that the bus would be going the long way today and that would have to be dropped off last in the best English I have heard this side of the equator. With the other option being a ride through mud and muck, I said I didn't mind.

As the sweat from the heat and the water soaking my clothes started blending and giving me that uncomfortable itchy sensation you always get when you are wet and don't want to be, we started weaving our way along the Ring Road (which BTW looks exactly the same no matter what part of town you are in) and dropping off staff, Swifty up the back like a king on his horse. I watched as we took on tuk-tuks head on on the wrong side of the road along the (predominantly dry) streets. But inside the Ring Road was another story. As started heading north through town the sewers were showing their protest to 8 (dry) months of abuse in the form of trash and other waste matter being shoved down them at any opportunity. I saw motorbikes parked on the side of the road being washed away as the gutters turned from lumps of concrete to white water rapids (except that the water was brown and gross).

People stumbled along with umbrella's useless against the deluge and every man and his spade was out trying to clear gutters and sewers to try and stop the rising water level from entering their shops.

Monsoon is back and it feels exactly like it did when I arrived a year ago.


Anonymous said...

Patterns. we loves the patterns. Precious patterns. Tricksy monsoons sound like fun too though.

Dash said...

It brings back memories of what I was going through when I first arrived, and how shocked I was to be thrown into this culture.

Isa said...

Ha ha - the old "Oh, but now we have some work for you!" debacle! I think no matter if you were in country for 2 months or two years, they would always save the workload up for your last four weeks! ;-D