Cyclone Jude

You probably know them as hurricanes, but in our part of the world they’re called cyclones.  The one that visited us last week was called Jude.  Its visit was not friendly.

Our church learned about Jude on Saturday night, through a meteorological notice that my son posted on our WhatsApp group.  On Sunday, as we finished our monthly lunch on the grounds, the winds were blowing in, so games were cancelled and everyone hurried home.  Rain fell all afternoon as I worked on my computer in my room, and continued through the night.

By Monday morning, the rain had dissipated but the wind was strong.  I carefully drove to work on nearly-empty roads and found that several co-workers had stayed home due to the inclement weather.  I worked undisturbed at my desk, using my computer’s battery power after the electricity went out mid-day, evidently because the cyclone had damaged infrastructure.

At home that evening, I discovered that the electricity had been off all day.  Since our water supply depends on an electric pump, Boniface hauled water from his school, where the well pump is powered by a generator.  We used the water from buckets sparingly, in the dark.  Our cell and internet service was poor because the storm had harmed antenas.  Without much to do, I went to bed early.

All night long, there was a downpour of intense rain.  In the morning, still without power, I accompanied Boniface to the school to haul more water home in my truck, navigating fresh erosion and flowing water on the dirt roads.  I moved my yogurt and boiled eggs from our refrigerator to our freezer, to buy time for the electricity to return before they spoiled.

Both the wind and the rain had subsided by the time I drove to work, where the power had been off for nearly 24 hours.  My director, who is out of the country, gave me detailed instructions for starting the generator to avoid spoilage of frozen food, but a misunderstanding led to a mistake which could have ruined the machine.  Thankfully, no damage was done, but the stress still left me shaking as I worked for the rest of the day.

I once again arrived home at twilight to find our house without electricity, running water, or adequate cellular reception.  Once again we ate supper by mobile phone flashlight and left the dishes unwashed.  Then, just as I went to bed, the power returned.  What a relief it was to have lights and running water restored!

Over the following days, we heard from friends and relatives whose homes were destroyed or damaged by the storm.  When you live in a mud hut with a thatch roof, a cyclone is not your friend!  Cracks appeared, walls collapsed, and roofs came loose.  Our church is compiling information on members’ houses in need of repair so that we can assist these brothers and sisters with their needs.  Pray for us in this process.

Cyclone Jude’s impact on me personally was minimal.  Our concrete home with a metal roof suffered no damage.  If my African friends had the means to build such sturdy houses, they also would probably have been merely inconvenienced by the interruption in electric and cellular services.  As it is, many locals lost their homes completely.  It’s a sad reality that the poor suffer more from natural disasters than the rich.

While I plan to generously contribute to our church’s cyclone recovery fund, I realize that African poverty will remain a glaring issue.  I can’t fix it singlehandedly, and I didn’t come here to do so.  The far greater help I can offer to all my impoverished neighbors is the good news that those who repent of their sin and trust in the Lord Jesus Christ for their salvation receive forgiveness in Him and an eternal dwelling place which no storm can destroy.  Even for those devastated by Cyclone Jude, there is hope in the gospel!