The Rainy Season

I was quite annoyed with Gearoid when he scheduled to do research during the worst time of year in Sierra Leone. We left a beautiful Dutch spring and imminent summer and arrived right in the middle of the dry season and are staying right through the rainy season. More than likely, our flight will concur with the unofficial end of the rainy season. The clouds will lift and the sun will shine as our plane leaves the country. Ok, that’s not going to happen but mostly because we’re flying out at 11PM at night. To top off the weather snafu, we’re returning just in time for a grey Dutch winter. So, yeah, I was annoyed.

The rainy season hasn’t been too bad though and by the end of the dry season, I was begging for rain. The heat was oppressive, the humidity became unbearable, and the buildup of impending storms would significantly alter the atmosphere. The air felt like it was boiling, my hair curled unattractively, and our clothes would stick to us as sweat ran down our bodies. I would stare out the window and attempt Jedi mind-control to get the rain to come. Finally, big winds would swoosh in before massive black clouds inched their way over the sun and the rain would pound down. The first big storm found me standing on a terrace with my arms spread wide welcoming the cooling wind and the cool rain drops after the unbearable heat from the night before. The wind was so powerful that my skirt whipped between my legs and my hair flew out behind me. I watched as people on the street hurried to safety and school children rolled and danced in the cool rain. I felt like I could breathe again. My stunt in the rain and the wind eventually gave me a sore throat and a cold that lasted a week but at that moment, it was totally worth it.

The first real rainstorm

The violent storms usually began in late afternoon, trapping us in our house for the evenings. It worked out nicely because evening storms lead to cool sleeping. The start time of the daily rain storms inched up earlier and earlier and the violent thunder and lightning disappeared, softening the rainstorms into steady falling rain. Some days we would wake up to rainfall and it wouldn’t stop until the following midday. At first it was kind of nice to be trapped in the house on a lazy weekend. We would sleep in, read, flip through the 4 channels on the TV that were in English instead of Arabic, and go for quick walks in town when the sun came out for approximately 1.5 hours. We kept cans of food in the house as back-up in case we couldn’t make it to the market or grocery store. One cozy rainy weekend, our landlord knocked on the door to make sure we were ok because he hadn’t seen or heard anything from our house for some time.

The novelty of cozy weekends inside wore off around the 3rd weekend when we found ourselves stuck at home or at work during the weekdays. In the mornings we left as soon as there was a break in the clouds or fully attired in head to toe rain gear. One morning, the rain was extremely hard but I had a class to teach so I borrowed Gearoid’s protective gear and luckily found a bike looking for customers. I made it to school to find that other teachers had braved the rain as well. However, the students who were only 25 feet from the school in the shelter of the boarding kitchen area, refused to run over for their lessons because the rain was too hard. In the afternoons, we had to be crafty and leave as soon as there was a break in the rain.  At times the break would last as long as a phone conversation. I would literally call Gearoid to tell him I was on my way home and upon hanging up the rain would start falling again.

Stir craziness ensued. As entertainment we would pick fights with each other over trivial (although they seemed life changing at the moment) things like how to properly make toast and who’s turn it was to unclog the shower drain. We formed quick addictions to TV series that we happened to have on our external hard drives. Between episodes we would sing the theme songs to our new obsessions- Chuck, Peep Show, etc- until we could get our next TV fix. Our books (including all of my Dutch homework) stared forlornly at us from the shelf, asking us with their unread words why we were rotting our heads with procedurals instead of using our imaginations and widening our vocabulary. Why did you brings us if you were just going to leave us and spend time with the mobsters of Boardwalk Empire and the detectives of the Killing instead? Eventually, the number of TV shows on the hard drives dwindled, the humid air ruined the TV connected to the satellite, and we rekindled our relationships with books again.

The constant rain and dampness affected our house and hygiene as well. Our laundry would be washed but the rain would prevent it from drying properly so all of our clothes started to smell like mildew. I started spritzing myself with a travel bottle of Fabreze so I didn’t smell like a dirty bathroom. Pale green mold started to grow on things, especially anything made of leather, in our bedroom. Clothes we didn’t wear often enough blossomed with white splotches of mold and our suitcases became covered with a fine paisley carpet of green and white. Small injuries and cuts took longer to heal, a small scratch taking weeks to finally scab over. Our sheets had the damp feel they would usually get from being by the beach or in a lakeside house without the pleasure of a beach or lake nearby. You know when you were a kid and you went to the bathroom after swimming and you had to wrestle your swimsuit back on and it still felt like it was off-kilter? That’s what getting dressed in the rainy season is like. I would have wrestling matches with my shirts and more than once Gearoid would have to intervene as I cursed and stamped my foot in frustration as my Old Navy cotton t-shirt outmaneuvered me again.

Traveling around Makeni was difficult making traveling outside of it near impossible. Dirt roads became rust colored rivers and shoddily paved roads started to wash away in the rain. What is usually a small stream of sewage became a rushing river of trash that would flood local houses and make the road almost impassible. We often got trapped in small restaurants or on people’s porches when the rain decided to end its reprieve early. After an hour or so, the rain would stop and life would begin again. Women selling food on their heads started calling out their fares. Ocada drivers rushed past trying to make up for their lack of work. People left the confines of their house and resumed their habitual outdoor life until they were forced back in again by the rain. Most of life in Sierra Leone is lived outside. The rain, although good for the crops and the lush countryside, is not conducive to this preferred outdoor lifestyle.

There is one main perk to the rainy season. The country cools down. Local people dress up in beanies and winter coats while we walk around in tank tops and flip flops. We find we need a top sheet at night to sleep comfortably and on a couple of occasions my slipper socks came out of the drawer, protected from mold, to warm my feet. As the time between rains increases and the world becomes warmer again, I’ve realized how much I appreciated the cooler temperature despite the mold, stir craziness, and other inconveniences that came with the season. I’ve lost my tan for lack of sun and our fruit and vegetable choices have dwindled down to cucumbers and bananas but I’m happy to say that although it was touch and go at times, we have survived the rainy season so far and it hasn’t been that bad. 

A rainbow after the rain