Cyclone Sidr

It’s wrong I know but there was a part of me that was getting a kick at the thought of being in a cyclone. Sure I heard they were dangerous but it was sort of fascinating at the same time. I was attending a governance conference in Khulna just near the south coast of Bangladesh. All day during the proceedings we were receiving warnings from our country director warning us to stay inside the hotel and listen carefully for any new developments. The day grew moodier and was downright angry by the late afternoon with steadily building winds and waves of rain. As it became obvious that the storm was inevitably heading towards us the streets grew deserted save for a few rickshaw pullers who showed a dedication to the job that was perhaps going a bit too far.

As night descended the wind ratcheted up several notches. I was in my room as the glass in my window was rattled and shaken in its frame. I thought it was going to break. The tress outside looked like they were dancing with each other, or doing yoga, I never knew trees could be that bendy. It was midnight and the storm was at its climax and what happened? I fell asleep. I fell asleep during a cyclone that was as powerful as hurricane Katrina.

The hotel held firm but the countryside around us fared terribly. On the drive back up to Dhaka the next day we were surrounded by the toll of the storm. Flattened trees with huge branches snapped like twigs, mangled homes a tangle of corrugated iron and bamboo, boats lying sunk, semi-submerged in the river. And yet what was astounding was the sheer amount of work that was going on. The UN World Food Programme was present trying to assess the damage whilst whole communities were busy clearing the wreckage. Fallen trees were being attacked by scores of men with axes, clearing blocked roads and paths whilst rickshaw pullers were ferrying the debris to the road side. People seemed to know exactly what to do. I suppose that living in a land of frequent disasters the business of relief and recovery is a well-rehearsed one. Anything usable was being being arranged into neat piles. The husks of fallen coconuts can be used for mattress lining and so they were in one pile whilst the long grass that had been flattened is used for thatching roofs so that was duly assembled into more piles. The real problem is not the rebuilding of homes which can be done in a matter of days, its the loss of acres of crops. The rice was due to be harvested next month and its loss is irreplaceable.

I’m in Dhaka now which has sporadic power and a rather shaky water supply. Things are getting back to normal but it’s going to take a while. The worst thing is the knowledge that the next natural disaster in Bangladesh is only ever just around the corner.