Panic, it's not war, it's Mother Nature

August 20, 2013

After two days of being served spoiled meat for lunch and dinner, I decided it was time to treat myself to one of Butembo’s finest restaurants. For $4 I receive a ¼ serving of chicken and a plate of French fries.

As I was finishing dinner a hush came over the restaurant. I didn’t think anything of it but instead of waiting for the check, I promptly stood up and went to pay my bill at the desk. Half the restaurant followed suit. As I was paying for the meal a strong gust of wind swept through the restaurant. The gust of wind brought a faintly veiled séance of panic to each of the guests- rain was intermittent.

It didn't feel like just a typical shower was approaching, it felt like a full on assault by Mother Nature was imminent. Exasperating the panic was the collective realization that everyone in town was going to be searching for a motorcycle taxi and the sun was going to set soon- no one want to be out on the cold, wet, dangerous streets of Butembo at night.

When I stepped outside the restaurant I was shocked to see the sun still shinning. People were clearly in a rush to get home and the countless motorcycle taxis that line the street were gone, but it looked like another beautiful evening in Butembo. I took advantage of the panic by walking across the street to a bank to make a withdrawal with no line to wait in.

Just a few minutes later when I stepped back out onto the street, the sun was replaced with dark ominous clouds and huge raindrops periodically crashing into the dirt road. One of the rain drops hit me square on the noise and for a second I thought it might be hailing.  There was no way I could make it home dry.

I joined the mob of Congolese briskly walking and a few running to their homes. As the clouds began to open up, a young boy running by me yelled, “TAXI!” The only taxi man without a passenger gave the boy a dirty look when he realized the boy wasn't actually interested. I didn't say a word; my eyes did all the talking- I clearly wanted that taxi.

I flew down the street into the heart of the storm on the back of the motorcycle taxi, the rain began pelting my face. As I passed the Congolese now running down the street, I regretted taking the taxi. I had some important papers with me that I didn't want wet but I felt like I was missing one of the few opportunities to be normal here. When I was briskly walking with everyone no one called out to me, no one stared at me; I was just another person trying to make it home. I love Butembo but I never thought I would have the opportunity to be completely normal.

The motorcycle pulled up to the priest’s house and I got off under the protection of the roof. I gave the taxi man double the fare as the rain started to fall in sheets.  I was probably the only one that made home that night with a few dry patches still remaining.