The following is from a note I typed into my phone on the night of February 26 while the rain fell outside my room in Arusha, Tanzania. I was panicked and couldn’t sleep, so I did what I always do when I’m scared or in pain. I wrote it all down:
I felt my tent shaking and the Maasai camp guard I’d said ‘jambo’ to 15 minutes before yelling something about water.
It had been raining intensely. No, that’s not enough to describe it. It monsooned, it was cartoonish, it was Biblical.
I’d put my tent on a raised concrete picnic area with a tin roof. Though the storm was at a percussion level I’d only ever experienced once or twice before (also in Africa), I figured that where I was had to be the best possible position.
“I know it’s raining, but I’m covered, I’m fine!” I relayed from within my tent.
But he was insistent, and panicked, shouting about water again, so I unzipped the tent and got out. He began pulling it out of the shelter and uphill furiously.
“What the hell?” I exclaimed, angry at first, until some lightning lit up the ground and I finally understood. The water was rising, then encircling me as he pulled my tent away, and then before I knew it I was on an island, clutching my journal and this phone I’m typing on, my pillow, and for some reason, my water bottle (who cares about a water bottle?!)
I jumped into the thigh-deep water and charged to higher ground, running to the others (A couple of other travel bloggers who I’m currently driving through Africa with) to tell them they had to come immediately.
The flood started to surround the truck. I don’t know what we were thinking, but we somehow trusted that it would not get any higher, and ran back for the truck to grab our electronics from the seats they were resting on while the water ran up around our chests. I shuddered when I realized it had rushed up and over where I was in my tent. The little picnic area wasn’t even visible anymore.
We ran back to higher ground with no choice but to watch in horror. Would the truck float away?
The river near the campsite had overflowed. Apparently a tree had fallen into it and got caught on a bridge.
Ma, the owner of the campsite, calmly came over with an umbrella, some keys, and some T-shirts and offered us a room for the night so that we could be dry and warm. It’s where I’m sitting now, several hours later.
I hear whistling and shouting outside and engines somewhere in the distance. I don’t know what to make of it but the river has two sides, and I have no idea what’s on the other. Are people ok? Are they looking for each other? Am I overreacting or just not yet grasping how severe this is? Can I take my eyes off of the ground outside for a moment? Is that ok to do?
Then I wonder for a moment how close I was to getting trapped in my tent, engulfed in mud. Did that warrior save my life? Was it that dire? I wouldn’t have known until the water was infiltrating my tent. Within seconds, it would have been well up over my head.
I’ll never know, but I do know that it was only the two of us down there, and that he could have just as easily ran but he risked his life too and warned me. There was no way to know then how fast and high the water would rise.
Is this part of the story? It must be. Just like every traumatic event, I wonder if it is the catalyst, one that will only make sense later. But there is one thing for sure, right now I just wish it would not rain anymore.
Please stop with those thumb tacks falling on the tin ceiling. We’ve had enough.
Tomorrow will be telling. Will the truck start? Is it just a goner now? Is the end of the road here? Is the warrior still watching, in case it happens again?
After that, I watched the rain for a few more hours before passing out. When the birds started chirping in the morning I awoke with a start. I was okay, and all of my stuff was okay, but was the car done for?
I walked outside to survey the damage. It was mud-topia. Seriously, if the circumstances had been different, and there weren’t rocks and acacia thorns and perhaps the odd fork or knife from the picnic areas lodged in it, we could have all had one epic mud fight.
The real hero of the story are Ma and BJ of the snake park, who gave us a room the moment they realized what had happened, gave us T-shirts so that we’d have dry clothes to wear, fed us breakfast and dinner, and fixed the car in their mechanic shop on site, all for free, and all with a smile even though they were suffering too. After all, they were watching their home flood.
Native South Africans, Ma, Deon, and BJ moved up from South Africa in the early ’90s, bought a plot of land with nothing on it, planted trees and flowers, and adopted reptiles, which is a family passion.
They have vipers, spitting cobras, crocodiles, and the famously venomous black mamba onsite. They also have the only anti-venom clinic in the area, and offer free care for snake bite and burn victims.
They’ve also got camels, a Maasai cultural center, an orphanage, and a full mechanic shop onsite. If you’re going to get caught in a flood, I suppose the snake park is the best place where it could happen.
Over the next couple of days that felt stuck in time, I hung in my hammock, talked to another camper there and enjoyed the chance to get to know someone new, looked around at all of the beautiful flowers and trees they had planted, and all of the birds that it attracted, and allowed myself to really see and appreciate it all.
I’m thankful to have met people with such big hearts, and though this might sound crazy, I feel lucky for the experience.
I feel lucky that the Maasai guard was watching that night, that the flood wasn’t any faster or higher, and that the adventure, at least for now, continues.
And I’m reminded that life is short, which is something I knew already, but didn’t think about nearly enough.
GG says
Hi Kristin:
Thank goodness you, Natasha and Cameron (and any other campers) came out of it okay and the Maasai camp guard was a true hero (may have saved 3 lives that night!) along with Ma and BJ. Things happen and to survive and experience such love and compassion from those around you is certainly special. Everything just seems so special afterwards. I wouldn’t be surprised if this area floods every year based on the Maasai’s recognition of the impending flood. When it rains, often the big storms don’t move anywhere until raining itself out and the clouds in the tropics get so high up in the atmosphere, you get lots of ice crystals (cloud tops in tropics colder than midlatitudes or poles!) making for incredible and loud “light shows”. I wonder if the remnants of Tropical Cyclone Dineo, down in Zimbabwe may have enhanced moisture further north in Tanzania (maybe not, 1000 miles away).
Meteorology is one of my backgrounds. This blog is a great opportunity to make people aware of the dangers of flash flooding. Not many people know for instance that the leading cause of death and injury from tropical storms is not the wind, tornadoes, coastal flooding, storm surge, but inland flooding. In fact, in Tanzania flooding is rated as the worst natural disaster. It is not uncommon in the United States (so may even be worse in Africa in the tropical areas) for river levels to rise rapidly by 20 feet during a rainstorm like you had. You mentioned being from California, so you can attest to this with the winter California has had (made for incredible snow amounts in the Western mountains though as shown in your earlier pics and they need the water!!). For what it is worth, when you have access to internet sources, this is a great site for forecasting possible potential for flooding/droughts:
http://www.cpc.ncep.noaa.gov/products/international/africa/africa.shtml
And it is interesting how La Nina and other abnormalities in the weather pattern can blunt the “little dry season” as it did in 2016 (Arusha is mentioned near the bottom)
http://floodlist.com/africa/floods-january-february-2016-tanzania
I hope this information is useful to you. Just to let you know, I was nearly trapped by flooding in my car (so many people don’t follow the don’t drown, turn around rule) trying to get to a monitoring site for work. It rained 24 inches in 36 hours in Austell, GA, a 1 in 500 year event, but I was not free of blame for getting into trouble because I knew there was rain coming, but I wanted to get the data and had never experienced such a thing first hand. Not only have you taken a potential traumatic event, and turned into a great story about people with big hearts, gratefulness for what you have, a bonding experience with fellow campers, but maybe also into a learning experience for everyone reading your blogs. May people emulate your positive outlook, as life isn’t about getting everything you want, control, and knowing what is around the corner, but how you deal with what comes at you.
GG
GG says
Hi Kristin:
Thank goodness you, Natasha and Cameron (and any other campers) came out of it okay and the Maasai camp guard was a true hero (may have saved 3 lives that night!) along with Ma and BJ. Things happen and to survive and experience such love and compassion from those around you is certainly special. Everything just seems so special afterwards. I wouldn’t be surprised if this area floods every year based on the Maasai’s recognition of the impending flood. When it rains, often the big storms don’t move anywhere until raining itself out and the clouds in the tropics get so high up in the atmosphere, you get lots of ice crystals (cloud tops in tropics colder than midlatitudes or poles!) making for incredible and loud “light shows”. I wonder if the remnants of Tropical Cyclone Dineo, down in Zimbabwe may have enhanced moisture further north in Tanzania (maybe not, 1000 miles away).
Meteorology is one of my backgrounds. This blog is a great opportunity to make people aware of the dangers of flash flooding. Not many people know for instance that the leading cause of death and injury from tropical storms is not the wind, tornadoes, coastal flooding, storm surge, but inland flooding. In fact, in Tanzania flooding is rated as the worst natural disaster. It is not uncommon in the United States (so may even be worse in Africa in the tropical areas) for river levels to rise rapidly by 20 feet during a rainstorm like you had. You mentioned being from California, so you can attest to this with the winter California has had (made for incredible snow amounts in the Western mountains though as shown in your earlier pics and they need the water!!). For what it is worth, when you have access to internet sources, this is a great site for forecasting possible potential for flooding/droughts:
http://www.cpc.ncep.noaa.gov/products/international/africa/africa.shtml
And it is interesting how La Nina and other abnormalities in the weather pattern can blunt the “little dry season” as it did in 2016 (Arusha is mentioned near the bottom)
http://floodlist.com/africa/floods-january-february-2016-tanzania
I hope this information is useful to you. Just to let you know, I was nearly trapped by flooding in my car (so many people don’t follow the don’t drown, turn around rule) trying to get to a monitoring site for work. It rained 24 inches in 36 hours in Austell, GA, a 1 in 500 year event, but I was not free of blame for getting into trouble because I knew there was rain coming, but I wanted to get the data and had never experienced such a thing first hand. Not only have you taken a potential traumatic event, and turned into a great story about people with big hearts, gratefulness for what you have, a bonding experience with fellow campers, but maybe also into a learning experience for everyone reading your blogs. May people emulate your positive outlook, as life isn’t about getting everything you want, control, and knowing what is around the corner, but how you deal with what comes at you.
Best wishes,
GG
Kristin says
I had no idea how dangerous it was up until recently. I recalled a flash flood had taken place a couple of months before in California and carried away some cars and campers, and I’d been scared of it when camping nearby that same weekend, only to have it happen to me a few weeks later! Crazy stuff.
Nina says
What an intense experience! I felt the same when locals were warning me about a flood coming in Thailand. I didn’t want to listen but so happy I did! Luckily I got on the LAST seat of the LAST bus leaving town bc at 5am that next morning everyone was flooded in and on their roofs waiting for the rescue boats.
It’s crazy you actually had a view of what could have been. I get it when you say you’re lucky for the experience. I think we sometimes need these to bring us back down to reality and to realize we are actually living life, bc it is VERY short!
Kristin says
Wow where and when was that?? Good thing you had lots of warning! So often people don’t.