Into every drought, a little rain must fall 17 January, 2009

The chain is supposed to guide the flow from the gutter to the ground without splashing

Shortly after posting that last piece, I was praying with our girls at bed-time. We included a prayer for rain, bearing in mind the third of Kenyans said to be in imminent danger of food and water shortages.

How exciting, then, that 12 hours later the clouds rolled over and a splendid grey, chilly rainstorm ensued, yesterday morning. Better still, it’s started again this morning.  Not a dangerous deluge, but a steady drenching that cycles between heavy mist and downpour.  It’s out of season and utterly distinct from the two months of azure-skied, dry-wind caressed drought we had before. By our amateur weather-watching estimation, two centimetres of soil-soaking, reservoir-refilling rain has already fallen.

Not that it will necessarily lift the state of emergency that Kenya’s government declared last week.  It takes more than a couple of days of out-of-growing-season rain to lift the kind of threat that caused President Mwai Kibaki to call for $400m worth of food aid.  Rain, at any time, is a great boon for the pastoralists, though, and they must be rejoicing today.

It’s not clear how international donors will view Kenya’s call for money and food, anyway.  Aid officials in America will get the chance to grill a Kenyan politician this week, if they want to.  A sizeable number of them are travelling to the USA at huge expense for President-elect Barack Obama’s inauguration – even though not a single one of them has been invited to the actual event.  Doubtless their shopping trip and party-going will help boost the US”s moribund economy, though, so they can always claim to be taking aid to America.

New Year, resolutions and water 2 January, 2009

We celebrated the New Year on the roof with many of our friends, and followed up by hosting a few more on New Year’s Day. It’s been a highly social holiday season. Jane, an introvert, will now relax quietly for a few days!
I spoke in church last week about getting ready for new resolutions (with a trapeze theme, letting go of one bar to grab hold of another, Philippians 3:10-14) but, truth be told, no-one in the family has made any resolutions yet. We plan to do so at the end of the weekend; I’ll let you know how that turns out!
As the year starts we are a little concerned about the long dry spell we have endured here in Nairobi. The level of our moat is now 10cms down from its top high-tide mark.
At the same time, we haven’t had more than a dribble of water in the pipes that supply our house for almost a month. We normally get about four hours a week, so I’ve had to hire two bowsers of water already to keep our fortunately-copious roof tanks full.
I went to see the city council water people the other day. They were apologetic and the station manager Job seemed concerned. But, stuck with 50-year-old infrastructure and little investment, they simply don’t have water in their reservoirs to be able to provide pressure to outlying areas like ours.
They are supposed to send bowsers out to us in those circumstances, but two of their three tankers had broken down and the third was out of fuel (yes, there’s been a fuel shortage over the season, too).
One result of these increasing and more prolonged droughts is that more and more householders are digging boreholes to get water. The water table is falling as more people sink pipes to suck the groundwater up. Old boreholes have to be dug again, and deeper. The calamity that Nairobi is storing up for itself is obvious. The city is already far above its population carrying capacity and new housing developments come on the market on a weekly basis.
As I write the sky is pure blue, not a cloud to be seen and a gentle breeze holds no scent of rain. Indeed, on past evidence, it may be March before we get substantial rain.

Rainy season in Nairobi 30 March, 2008

The long rains have started in earnest, with several nights of hard downpours this week.  Traditionally the rains begin in mid-March, so it looks like we may be due another ‘normal’ year’s weather.  We thank God, having had two years of drought and one year of mis-timed rains before last year’s return to relative normality.

There are several things that go with the rainy season. Clouds of flying termites fill the air on the first few rainy evenings. From a distance the termite mounds look like little volcanoes belching out smoke, but on closer inspection the billowing columns are composed of fat little termites with disproportionately large wings. In many places people hold out white sheets under lamps to attract the termites. Once caught they are packed and taken away to be sold in the market or eaten at home. They taste slightly nutty, slightly greasy, very high in protein. Jane loves them; I’m reticent.

In our area, after the termites come swarms of little golden beetles.  These last for a couple of nights, attracted to light and more capable of getting through the cracks in windows, woodwork and masonry.  As they die around the house they, in turn, draw in columns of ants eager to share the bounty.

In the daytime it is usually sunny and hot, until the thick, low clouds mass darkly on the horizon and creep over the city.  Birds come in force in the mornings to pick off the termites, beetles and ants.  The flowering plants get the message from the warmth and wetness, and will all be preparing their own riotous displays for the months ahead. (To see what flowers in our garden alone, go here.)

Heavy rain in Nairobi has other repercussions. Many drivers slow down – a lot. A few drivers don’t slow down and, perhaps blinded by the condensation caused by their damp, warm passengers, a proportion of them crash. About one car in 50 seems to stop working entirely as soon as the first raindrop hits it. The combined effect of the slowed traffic, accidents and breakdowns is to extend the normal rush-hour congestion by several hours and worsen it by 100 per cent.

The drainage system, which is blocked up with rubbish and generally overloaded, cannot cope with the sudden arrival of millions of litres of rainwater.  Roads become rivers.  Missing manhole covers, ordinarily annoying and unsightly, turn into hidden deathtraps, with torrents of water pouring down them from the flooded roads with a force that can easily sweep small children down them.  Sadly, already this season there have been deaths.

An added problem – the tens of thousands of people in displacement camps after the violence that started the year often don’t have enough shelter and clothing for the cold. Yesterday a pair of five-month-old twins at a displaced camp was reported to have died of pneumonia due to the rains.