Last year around this time, I wrote a blog post about the ferocity of storms that pound my little village during the beginning of the rainy season. Storms that make a typically violent-weather enthuasist like myself shake; storms that make my heart race as I sit, pitch-black inside my round home of clay, mud, thatch, and cement, waiting in the middle of the room under my mosquito net for the storm to pass enough so that I can re-open my door to coax a cool breeze amidst the humidity of the rains.
Aaaaanyway, one of those storms hit my village about two weeks back, and the aftermath was worse than I had ever seen it before. Trees were down, roofs blown off, fences toppeled over, and debris scattered as salt and pepper over the village. Here are some photos of the destruction, 7am the day after the storm:
Huge tree in the center of village that lost major branches during the storm. The catch: a lot of the trunk is hallow, and a massive beehive exhists (exhisted?) within the trunk... Makes clean-up look like a jumping-bean contest.
Collection of tin that flew off the batiment in a compound next to mine.
Back-view of the roof damage.
Fence that fell down in my back-yard.
Roof damange that hit every hut around the village.
Secondary effect of the storm blowing one's roof off: all of your laundry gets messy! All the women in the village whos roofs blew off spent all morning and early afternoon washing every piece of clothing they owned.
