Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Do you think it could rain dear?

5:13 pm | Edit Post
When we jumped into bed there was no real hint of rain. The previous few nights we had seen distant lightning flashes, but this night was calm though rather humid. Just before nodding off to sleep once again there appeared the distant flashes reflecting off the inky blackness of the night complimenting the stars quite well. Now my wife doesn't usually spit on me in bed but two hours later I was woken up buy little spatterings of water on my skin. Now you need to be aware that most of the year we sleep outside under mosquito nets, and this is where we were when the wind started to pick up and I finally came around from my slumber and realising it wasn't my wife's spit but drops of rain. At this point I sprang into action, jumped out of bed and proceeded to wheel the family under the shelter as the rain slowly intensified.
Just as I had got everybody in the inevitable happened, the rain began to die off and eventually stopped. Now if you have ever lived in a place like Djibo where folk often seem to be robbed of a good rainfall, you get a little frustrated when the rains stop as suddenly as they began. Believe it or not, I was fuming. After moving all the beds and all that trouble the rain decides to stop. After all, what does the rain think it is doing. I was so annoyed I decided to move our bed out, back into the night air both as an act of defiance as well as getting the benefit of any breeze that might pass by that we may benefit from. And so there we were, both of us under the clouds with the lightning still flashing away in the distance and the odd faint rumble of thunder. I attempted to fall back to sleep.
Half an hour later I was aware that I was being spat on again, and as mentioned before, Cheryl doesn't tend to spit, I could only assume it was more pitiful attempts at raining. Defiantly I decided to keep us outside. Once again the wind began to pick up whipping the dust up as it went. The drops of rain seemed to get a little bigger and I began to think to myself as the thunder got more pronounced, maybe we weren't in the best place at that moment. So out of bed I leapt, slipped on my damp sandals and dutifully wheeled our bed back under with my sleeping bride still inside. It was at this point that I felt I had made the right decision as the rain continued to intensify and the wind continued to pick up sending the nearby trees into a frenzy. By this time the rain was pouring off the corrugated iron shelter and the wind was now sending the rain in and sprinkling my wife who still lay motionless underneath the dust covered sheet. We'll be safe and dry under here I thought (well, Cheryl may get a bit wet but that's okay).
How wrong can one be! As the lightning flashed all around and the wind bellowed our nets, I noticed a small figure sitting up in the bed next to us. Turning on my torch I noticed he was looking rather moist. So, being the kind father that I am, I jumped out of bed (once again) for a closer inspection only to discover that the shelter was not really sheltering Joshua as well as it could have been. In fact I think he had as much water in his bed as our ducks have in their pond, and his pillow was just a soggy thing that sat next to our rather soggy son. "Would you like to jump in our bed Josh?" I asked. Within seconds he was there.
Back to bed, I thought as I climbed back under the net. Now we could finally try and get some sleep despite the thunder rain and dust in the bed. But not so. Within a few minuets I felt a persistent trickle on my leg, wetting the mattress beneath me. Now this didn't resemble spit in any way. It was more like... well, something else.
Now there are certain moments when you have to say enough is enough. It was now 2am, I was wet and getting wetter by the second and now all the family, apart from Samuel, were awake and sometimes the head of the house needs to make some pretty serious decisions. And so I gave the order, "RUN FOR YOUR LIVES". A few minutes later we were all inside, our beds outside covered and the children as high as kites in all the excitement (apart from Sam who had curled himself up into a corner to escape the growing wet patch in his cot). There is only one thing an Englishman can really say in time like these; "do you fancy a cup of tea dear?". Cheryl declined so I drank alone.
In the morning the lake behind our house that was empty the previous day is now full, and the water gauge indicated a rainfall of 47mm.

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