Few months ago, weather forecasters made a warning that, from late October to November, heavy rains and floods are to be expected in Sub-Saharan parts of Africa. Not that I trust them that much but their warning doesn’t come as a surprise given that these parts are always sitted on the thorny side of a sodom apple leaf;
>Long dry seasons bearing sand storms, severe sun, famine = DEATHS
>Short wet seasons with heavy downpours, strong winds, floods = DEATHS
Residents live in naked terror of tomorrow for they know not the gift that nature will bestow on them at sun rise. One thing they’re sure of; the gift wouldn’t be of their liking, only extent of abhorrence will vary. Well aware, me and you are, that nature wasn’t always this way. Who made her this way; a mortal enemy to mankind? Who made her once benign aspects (sun, wind, rain) lethal weapons for her warfare? It us; me, you and those before us. Though to differing extents we’re all to blame. Yes, all;
- You, the industrialist.
- Me, the charcoal man.
- He, the timber man.
- Us, burners of carbon compounds
- Me and you, the blind or dumb.
Yeah, we made an enemy, started a war and thousands of souls we lose in each attack. This war we will never, can never win. Are we satisfied with invariably losing souls to it? Is there nothing we can do? For real, really, really, nothing? Not even making peace with Her?
It has been rainy over the last few days and thoughts about Sub-Saharan residents have been a loyal companion since then. Tonight as I sit staring at my book all see is picture of terror struck village at slight hint of rain.
Chilly zephyr blows
And blue waters froths with furry.
Birds nest mute,
Kids shelter tacit.
World, silent, awaiting unknown.
(Fibonacci Poem, syllable structure 184.108.40.206.5.8 per verse)