THERE WAS A TIME in my childhood that whenever it rained while I was at school – primary or secondary – I secretly rejoiced.
I believed there were others experiencing a similar emotion.
Every puddle between Eagle Hall Primary and home was a sheer watery delight. On such rainy occasions, we children would purposely and merrily skip along playing in the rain, much to the annoyance of the sheltering adults.
“Get out de rain”, “wunnah gine ketch cold”, and “wunna want licks” they would hurl at us as we played around splashing each other by jumping into every pool of water in our path.
Those who were fortunate enough to have raincoats didn’t wear them for fear of being teased as feeling they were “better”. We were silly.
In any event, the raincoats would have reduced the degree of fun we were having. The nearby gully in which the rain from central Barbados had collected, provided an even greater pleasure.
Ignorant to the true dangers of the rushing water and caught up in its mesmerising flow, we formed a link and crossed safely, cheering each time someone made it over.
Then we would repeat the action going in the opposite direction. In reality we were to take the long way round whenever it rained but often we did not.
The gully provided hours of fun and we used the ready excuse that it was raining to avoid punishment when we reached home extra late. The thought that the gully was fraught with fatal possibilities never dawned on our innocent minds. At secondary school, the St Peter location was a magnet for water, if you can conjure up that imagery.
Trying to avoid puddles was pointless since they were everywhere and many of them more than ankle deep. Flooding was everywhere. And so on terribly rainy days school would be dismissed early and we negotiated our way through the watery terrain.
The effects of the elements competed for our attention. The crashing waves of the nearby sea held us transfixed but the swirling waters in the canal under the bridge also beckoned.
We dropped all sorts of objects in the water, including paper boats, and ran great distances to see how far they reached. Watching motorists fall victim to the hidden road dangers was another source of fun for our immature minds. But at the end of it all we retreated to our dry homes.
We were dried off and fed and had good memories of the day while looking forward to the next downpour. But I grew up and out of the folly of my youth.
Every so often an event of epic proportions comes along and puts your childish behaviour into perspective. That was the case for me following Typhoon Haiyan in the Phillipines.
Lives and homes were gone in a flash. Families have been wiped out, there’s no water suitable for drinking, hovels have replaced homes and bellies are empty.
Children play in the muddy debris-filled roads but there is no home to retreat to, neither is there any expectation of a meal since supplies are slow in reaching them.
The very thought of rain must terrify them now. The scale of the effort to restore the island of Tacloban is mind-blowing. The death toll is in the thousands and could have been worse had not many heeded the warning and fled to safer ground.
A typhoon is akin to a hurricane on this side of the world. Imagine the fatalities and damage that would be wrought upon this island if something of that nature ever occurred here.
That is why I find it truly incomprehensible that whenever the island is put on high alert during the hurricane season and the threat passes, people are offended that they had to suffer the minor inconvenience of preparing.
More chilling was the weekend revelation by the Minister of Home Affairs that he was concerned about the preparedness level in the event of a major disaster. If he is concerned, I suggest that we all become just as worried.
It is under his charge that the main emergency organization falls. We’re nearing the official end of the hurricane season but in the past there have been tremors, land slippage and a cave-in.
Identify the weaknesses in the system and improve them before too long. Barbadians are resilient and whenever called upon they respond to any distress cry.
However, the machinery to minimize the impact of a major event should by now be up and running with only the need for fine-tuning.
• Antoinette Connell is a NATION News Editor.
