Barbados has two seasons, rainy and dry. Both last about six months each and can be characterized as they are described--rainy and dry. Lots of water and lush green vegetation followed by a wasteland of straw and cracked tree limbs. We are currently in rainy season and while we do get a little rain almost every day, never anything to write home about. Until a few days ago.
The island is quite far out in the eastern Caribbean so the weather patterns that eventually threaten Florida and the Eastern Seaboard of the United States rarely pack the same punch out here because they are just swirling around as tropical depressions trying to build up enough momentum to grow up to be hurricanes. What we get is some wind and rain. And on an island with a less than stellar drainage system and much of the island built up on the coasts which is at seat level or below, with hills and barely paved roads in the middle of the landscape, there is flooding. It is usually immediate, comes in a flash and is absorbed by the porous soil. However, as happened this past week, the rain didn't stop and it came fast and furious with a score to settle apparently, and the water in every crevice and depression on the island started to rise. And rise. And rise.
Whenever we take Lily to school, passing through Bridgetown, if it has rained for more than ten minutes, the streets begin to flood. After two steady days of rain, I imagined that the capital city was underwater and probably impassable in many spots. The Ministry of Education figured as much and all schools on the island were closed. Lightening, thunder, and heavy winds brought high tide waves crashing over the highway barriers, leaving sand and other debris strewn in the road. There were stray palms and coconuts, hideous snails and toads, and mud everywhere. Surprisingly, and it truly was a surprise given how often we suffer the loss here, the electricity did not go out. We did not lose internet connection and the fuses did not blow on the walkway and security lights surrounding the house.
We just watched and waited to see if the water was going to make it to the door, overflow the pool, lift the swing set from its place in the yard. Both Didier and I made projects with Lily--decorated tshirts, painted cardboard jewelry boxes, created colorful collages of torn, cut, and stenciled papers. We danced, played dress up, cooked special treats. All to distract the girls from the fact that there would be no outside play.
While awaiting news of a number of other tropical depressions thought to be out at sea and in the Atlantic Ocean, hearing word of spot tornadoes that ripped the corrugated steel rooftops off a number of chattel houses, we saw a peak of sunshine from behind the clouds. And before we could blow up the life raft, the sun was back out and we were all sweltering in the sauna like heat brought on by the soaking soil and dense cloud cover of hours before.
Today, as we pulled into the drive, I saw that the earth below my feet was cracked. Only days later and the scorching hot sun has dried the moisture out of the ground. You'd never know that the garden had just been completely underwater.
(c) Copyright 2010. City Mom in the Jungle.
