Storms in Africa

The rainy-season has been – and continues to be – unusually long and productive in Somaliland this year. I came to Somaliland expecting to find only the dry heat of the desert, and instead I've found a green, fertile, almost arable oasis. It's rained nearly every day since I've arrived. The days progress like this: the winds pick up just before sunrise, then continue to gust through the morning as the sun lights up billowing clouds and warms the air. The winds calm a bit around the midday, as if oppressed by the weight of the heat. Then in the late afternoon the winds again stir, ushering in even more massive cloud formations – some of them dark blue thunderheads. As the storms gather and grow on the horizon around our hill the sunlight beams through breaks in the clusters, creating a dramatic spot-lit background on which the lightning begins to dance. Rumbles of thunder roll their way to our hill and wash out again into the distance. All this while the wind rushes to meet the theatrics with ever more fortissimo gusto. When the wind reaches its hilt having blown the dark blues directly overhead, the rain begins. The rain always begins gently, but will sometimes decide to pour with a strength matching that of its fellow element, the wind. The marvelous production seems to end with sunset; perhaps the disappearance of the sun-spotlight takes away the fun of such a performance. There is a moment when it becomes clear that evening has completely ensconced the whole world, quietly, while the storms were creating their artful distraction. Everything becomes still, until the wind returns, and howls its way through to morning.

If you want to hear what it feels like to live in this environment (from my point of view) listen to the song “Storms in Africa,” by Enya. Yep, Enya. Really. Life is good.

On nights when the sky is clear of clouds, the stars are revealed like I've never seen them before. I've seen more shooting stars here in 4 weeks than in my entire life before Somaliland. I can also confirm that the Milky Way actually does exist – because I've seen it here with my own eyes. The school has a very high quality telescope, and Daniel, the resident PhD in Physics, happily sets it up when the opportunity for star-gazing presents itself. Tonight he zoomed in on Jupiter and its moons. Venus was also visible with the naked eye as were millions of other twinkling orbs. Millions more were probably hiding in the bright light of the moon, tonight.