Photo by Yevhen Sukhenko
I'm not a fan of storms. They frightened the living daylights out of me since childhood. Fast-forward to my adulthood, I was put in charge of a baby, my nephew, on a stormy night! That was another storm all by itself.
I paced the living room, tapping my feet on the floor with my chubby and adorable, twelve months old nephew in a makeshift sling on my back.
The rhythm of my movement and feet tapping usually put him to sleep quickly. But he was restless that evening. I needed him to fall asleep so he wouldn't finish the only bottle of expressed milk left before my elder sister came home.
Suddenly, the natural lighting that flooded the room earlier slowly turned dark. A deep rumble of thunder followed. I quickly looked out of the window and gazed up at the sky in bewilderment. Heavy, dark clouds were rolling in big waves, chasing after each other in a fearsome manner. The scene before my eyes was something like judgement day.
Oh no! It was going to be a violent storm. People scurried about to avoid getting caught in it. Retail traders and kiosk owners began to tidy up and lock their shops.
I had been staying with my elder sister since the birth of her son. After her maternity leave, she resumed work while I stayed home to care for my nephew until she returned in the evening.
There was about an hour left before she arrived if the traffic was not so hectic. But with the storm, it would be a disaster. I became worried. My nephew was a picky eater and had eaten a bowl of instant cereal called Cerelac before he fell asleep.
Usually, when he woke up, he would drink a bottle of the expressed milk together with pap or custard. The custard was finished and my sister promised to buy another and come home with it. If my nephew didn't get his food on time, it would be a war of tantrums and tears that made me feel inadequate.
It was past six pm and my sister had not arrived yet. The streets were empty as most people were indoors. The temperature had dropped drastically and it was chilly. Lightning lit the dark sky in dazzling zigzags followed by a loud rumble of thunder. The wind began to howl and blow fiercely, shaking the doors and windows, like a banshee was going to burst into our apartment.
Then there was a power blackout, as our power companies are wont to do whenever it rained or there was a storm. It was like my nephew could feel nature's fury about to be unleashed on the residents of my city. He woke up and began to cry at the top of his voice.
Uh-oh! I quickly turned off the appliances, put on a rechargeable lamp and began to pace the room, hoping he would fall asleep. I sang his favourite lullabies but his cries got worse.
"Come on, Junior. Try and go back to sleep," I crooned in a gentle voice and sang some more. It did not work.
The rushing sound of oncoming heavy rain alerted me that the storm was starting. Within seconds, the rain fell heavily on the roof of the house with a vengeance. Junior was startled and became inconsolable.
I took him to the kitchen, sat him down on a chair and prepared his cereal.
"Mummy," he cried.
"It's okay, J. Mummy will soon be home, eh?" I said. His face crumpled. He didn't believe me.
"Mummy," he repeated. I was tired of saying the same thing again and again. He was upset about the storm but so was I. My thoughts were divided into two—my sister's safety and my nephew's.
As the rain pelted down hard on the house, flashes of lightning lit up the kitchen. Unexpectedly, a loud clap of thunder reverberated, shocking my nephew and me into involuntary shrieks. The sound was deafening.
Instinctively, Junior and I fell into each others' arms. We were so afraid. I forgot I was the adult and held him in a hug. His tight grip on my blouse bit into my flesh. It felt like the thunder crashed right next to our house.
Then I realised how silly my action was at that moment but it couldn't be helped. My instinct was to scream and find someone or something to hold onto. My nephew and I held each other for a long moment as I began to whisper soothing words to calm him. There was no more lightning or thunder after the loud crash.
An hour later, my sister and her husband arrived, soaking wet from the rain, and grinning with relief at the sight of their baby and me.
The electricity company restored the light and Junior cheered in delight. I related the scary incident to my sister and she let out a snorting belly laugh. It was contagious and I laughed as well.
The night was etched in my memory forever. Whenever there was a storm, my sister would remind me of my 'drama'. Despite our fears, we weathered the storm together, my nephew and I.