Tegucigalpa has just been rattled by a healthy storm; a real electronic romper-stomper, the ones you can only find in the tropics, where you feel literally metres away from bolts of lightening. I’ve seen worser storms, to be honest, and I don’t think it was strong enough to have a name or a category storm. Saying that, this isn’t a challenge to the Gods to give us a more heaftier storm, yet this one did cause several flash floods throughout the city and knocked the electricity out for a few hours. Not only that, it left our dog Vicente a little anxious.
Nonetheless, the city needed a good rinse off, after the weather reached unbearable temperatures, causing several fires especially in the nearby areas to the city. Some of these fires were started by land owners burning rubbish or clearing bush. One fire cost the lives of two firemen, which has left the city in mourning for the last couple of days. Unfortunately, I can see many more perishing if the authorities don’t do more to punish this type of behaviour, or the people don’t change their mentalities who start fires which grow quickly out of control, especially in the dry season.
Therefore, thank God the rains came. The people wanted water; they got aplenty.
It was nice having the lights go out, apart from the fact that it stopped me having a late lunch. My mobile phone was already without juice, so I got to go back to basics of writing under candle light with pen and paper. I enjoy having no electricity, being in a state of inconvenience (not for too long, mind). Being disconnected from the web and social media and the miserable news of late felt refreshing; so refreshing that it inspired a poem, written after the storm had passed.
“No Hay Luz“
The digital silence soothes the senses.
Devices dead and lights blanked out and telephone conversations ended with no goodbyes.
Coupled by the looming darkness; the city illuminated only by moon and starlight, after thuggish clouds moved on to pulverize other lands.
And cars struggle on down streets converted into temporary rivers, given birth by a petulant, stroppy storm.
The noise, oh that noise, of life chirping, happening, rebuilding its strengths in the aftermath.
Voices of nature, of geckos bickering in the candle flicker and the rain dropping its last drips on window panes and tin roofs.
And impatient moans and groans of neighbours, “No hay luz“, obsessed with being reconnected to that woven web.
Away from the narcissism of Facebook and the feuds on Twitter and marathons on Netflix and games that kill time from more fulfilling joys;
I embrace these lonely moments, disconnected from news and WhatsApp and the idioces of humanity.
Simplicity, a route to a natural joy, with candlelight and pen and paper and cup of water.
No music, no radiation contamination from cell phones, no obsession to look at surplus updates.