It has come to my attention that it matters not where I travel, there appears to always be a dark cloud that hovers above me. Now, before you go on and think this is some sort of depressing metaphor, I can assure you that it is one-hundred percent literal. Over the past fifteen years, I have found that nearly anywhere I go rain and poor weather will follow me. The following is a quick explanation of why I think I might be a pagan deity of shit weather.
 |
| Zulu Nyala, a resort known for good weather and zebra poop |
Africa 2008:
When I stepped off of the plane in South Africa I expected heat, a desert, barren of everything but lions and other various savanna creatures. What greeted me instead was weather all too similar to home(Bellingham). The moment we met our guide he was able to see my distaste. “Don’t worry, it never rains here, it only looks that way. They are in a seven year drought here.”
All I heard was a challenge from the universe; I rubbed my hands together and went to work. More accurately, I passed out from twenty hours’ worth of jet-lag
and bad airline food. When I awoke I found that we were traveling through a barren savanna, approaching a grouping of yurts (Large tent-like structures with solid floors, electricity, etc.). Outside the clouds did not seem to have moved, and if anything appeared to be getting worse.
“You sure it’s not going to rain?” I was hesitant as I had packed for, well, Africa. A place I had assumed to be arid and hot, much like what I had seen in the documentaries The Lion King and Blood Diamond.
“Did you not hear me before?” The man said laughing at what he apparently thought was rampant and persistent stupidity. “It has not rained here in seven years! Don’t you worry, this is Africa, it will be hot, I can promise you that.” His khakis and explorer’s hat mocked me, as did the humorous tone of his Afrikaans accent. I did not ask about the rain anymore.
For two days he was correct. I spent my days crashing through the hot African underbrush in a large jeep, watching our guide Ken poke at hippos and rhinos with various sharp pieces of the earth (Yet another story for another time.) But then, on the third day, the sky darkened once more, and I felt the all too familiar dampness gathering in the air. Being from Portland originally I like to think that I have become quite accustomed to the feeling of impending rain (it’s a constant.)
Once again I asked our guide what he thought, and once again I was mocked for my trouble, but this time it was more of a formality as I knew what was coming. That afternoon as we were tramping through an abandoned house in search of man-eating fire ants(Or just fire ants), it began to rain, hard. All I could do was laugh, and apparently it was the same for the guide.
That night everyone was in a good mood, celebrating the end of their drought, and I could not help but feel a damp power growing in my fingertips. This was the first time I knew that someday I would have a power than any other. Let no parades be held, for I shall rain on them all!! People looked at me strangely as I laughed maniacally to myself. Laugh all you want! Soon all you will know as dampness!
More rain god stories to follow…
No comments:
Post a Comment