Cry Me a River

There isn't a Rendille word for "river," or if there is, no one ever uses it. The word "lugga," however, means "river bed," and they say that one all the time, which makes sense, as we live in the desert. (Fun Fact: Lynne Swanepoel says that it is, on average, hotter here year round than in the deserts of the Middle East. Actually, scary fact?) There's hundreds of these topographical divots all over Korr, and for the most part they're just one more hill to climb. But when it rains... The divots can literally turn into raging rivers.

At 3 pm yesterday, Alicia and I crossed a dry, 15 ft. lugga on our way to school to organize the shipment of new books. At 3:30 pm, I thought the 2012 apocalypse had come early because it started POURING. Not raining; POURING. The rain was so thick you couldn't see to the end of the school yard. All of this was really cool for the first 15 minutes; but then red streams of desert sand and clay started swelling around the school buildings. The water pelted the football field so hard that it looked like a pot of molten silver, swirling and bubbling all over. The driveway into school turned into an aquatic people mover; like the ones in airports, except with water. For the most part, we were dry in the classrooms, with only one leak (and a slotted trashcan which collected 3 in. of water before losing the rest out the sides.) 4:30 pm rolled around, and the streams between the building were now at least 4 feet wide and 1 ft deep. Our school books had to be moved into a steel box in order to keep them dry. Lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder rumbled across the African desert; if we're to employ Gothic imagery. But seriously, it did.

Lynne showed up in the Land Rover, and very nearly got stuck in the mud on the windward side of the school, so there were some tense moments (and gear shifting) before she wheeled around and parked by the other door. Seeing Lynne was such a comfort 1) Because this lady can handle anything. There's a rumor she once stared down a lion. I'm inclined to believe that. 2) She also lives right next door to us, so she was the only dry way home for Alicia and I. It was about 5 pm by this point, and the rain hadn't let up one bit. It never rains this hard for too long according to the Rendille, so we were kind of hoping it would just stop. However, for about half an hour we all sat around in the classroom watching cement dry. Literally. A workman was installing the new blackboard, made by smearing a double layer of cement on the wall and then painting it with erasable black paint, so all of us watched him work.

30 minutes later, the rain had lessened slightly, so we decided to hop in the truck and see if there was a way home. Dozens of Rendille stopped us on the way out of town hoping for a ride in the bed of the truck. Upon arriving at the luga, which, remember, used to be a shallow, 15 foot ditch, was a 50 FOOT WIDE muddy river with WAVES! During this week of El Nino storms (not an exaggeration to call it that), we've heard of at least 3 cars being carried off down flash flood lugas, so we turned back to town to find our hired bush driver. He then slid into the Land Rover with us, and all the sopping passengers headed back to the river. Someone had discovered it was safe to walk the river by foot now, for within the past 20 minutes, the depth had diminished to knee height. (That should give you an idea of how fast these rivers come, flow, and go. And of how well I can rhyme.) So our driver took the wheel, got a running start, and took the truck across.

I'll pause here for a minute, to tell you how scary this actually was. "Trekking vehicles" always have these awesome commercials with the car splashing across stunning glacial streams and a Bear Grylls looking man at the wheel. That's not how it feels in real life. One of my students recently told me of how he had to swim out the window of the car he was in while holding his younger brother when their vehicle got washed downstream last week. So I cracked the window. I have also heard that cars quite unfortunately act like boats when water levels reach above the wheels. So I was grateful for the weight of those extra 20 people in the back. And finally, for effect, Lynne recited the names of people whose cars had been swamped, and even of the few Rendille who have drowned in swollen luggas. So I just prayed that the Lord would show us grace. And in this tortured mental state, we crossed the river; safely.

Water is a funny thing in the desert. You pray for it so the herds survive and your family has water to drink. You pray for it because it offers a respite from the heat and sun. AIC used it for baptisms this past New Years Day. The warriors bathe in the wells with it. But then if it comes too hard... Floods, leaky huts, pneumonia, camels die in muddy pits, school children can't get to class. It's a situation just as desperate as drought, and you must pray for it to stop. And, eventually, it does.

(Included is a picture of the "swimming pool" remaining in the lugga. Shame I didn't have my camera with me when crossing the river yesterday... I've also put in a picture of my adoptive mother, Naryo and her brother at his baptism on Friday.)