amateur african almanac, 29 March 2009

Transcript of text messages, 11:56 AM:

Heide: Hav u heard,cyclone warning f moz,from madagascar

Me: !!? Epa [this is a Mozambican expression of surprise and dismay]

Heide: Just got ph.call fr Jacq.s sister,this morning on news

Me: [forwarding message to Jen]

Jen: Oh dear. What does that mean? Do we need 2 evacuate?

Me: Yes. Immediately to tahiti. Where international red cross-supplied margaritas will be waiting.

Jen: LOL Guess that means we're not taking it seriously?

There's a lovely bookend symmetry to this arising during my final week in Moz, since another storm, Cyclone Favio, welcomed me to the country, a couple weeks after my arrival in early 2007. Then, I was living with a host family about 1 kilometer from the coast; this time, I'm at Marina and Jen's apartment, about 500 meters from the beach.

What Cyclone Favio looked like, on left; its (presumed) eponymous inspiration, Fabio, on right.

I wasn't sure whether to take this morning's news seriously, since we didn't have internet access to check; that goes down about anytime someone clears their throat too loudly. What I did know was, the wind was whipping around so frenziedly that our veranda door slammed open and shattered the glass in it. Also, the roads looked like rivers. A lot of rain was falling. Some of it was creeping into the house.

To be honest, I was glad something was happening today. Last night Jen, Juliana, and I were out at 11 PM in a crumbling outdoor stadium, huddled beneath umbrellas, waiting for my man Oliver "Tuku" Mtukudzi to come out and give a concert, which was - I kept squeaking - "a magical dream come true". Except it didn't come true: a spokesperson finally came out and announced the concert was canceled due to "conduções natural", natural conditions, the rain. This sparked a brief riot as people demanded their money back, but we did eventually  get reimbursed, one by one. After being wet and out so late, I slept in this morning until 11:56 AM, when I was awakened by a text message from Heide alerting me of a "cyclone warning f moz".

But now it's nearly sundown. All the day's fury has petered out. The sky looks dramatically subdued, like me after a big cry, Nature's equivalent of red eyes and a puffy nose. Coastal birds are chirping, trading tales of their adventures, but I can hardly hear them over the din of Mozambicans cheering for the Mozambique vs. Nigeria World Cup qualifier game broadcasting on TV. Oliver is probably hot-footing it back to Zimbabwe.

And so it goes here. Life moves swifly on.