Just after the first of the year, a massive storm hit the Ha-Lambani area. For a week straight, heavy rains poured down and flooding ensued. While the rain pelted my village, I was away visiting my friend Mardy, a fellow PCV, in his village where the rain was much more subtle. While I was returning, my host mom called and said, "Sean, don't come back. The bridge is broke. A child has died."
Main bridge into Ha-Lambani. A dirt road used to be level to the concrete block.
I traveled over my village's dirt road for about 18 months at that point. I loved the beautiful picturesque landscape, the dust blowing everywhere and the welcoming silence of nature with the rare birds abundant. I had waged in on debates about the pros and cons of a tar road, often loathing the idea of regular traffic throughout the village, destroying the peacefulness. The flood made me think twice about where I stood.
I never got the full story, but it basically sounded like a young child was going to fetch something during a flood, jumped onto a termite hill which is usually very stable, slipped and fell in the rushing current. I don't know if a road would have saved this child's life, but it certainly would have made life easier before this tragedy. Goods would have flowed easier into the village. Services such as maintenance to consistently broken water pipes could have been more easily completed. Emergency vehicles would be able to travel in times of crisis such as flooding.
I arrived back in the village, the day after the last rain carrying 5kg of apples and 4 loaves of bread because my host mom said there is not even bread in the local shop. I know the rain meant fresh greens would be on the menu for the coming month and most likely insects, so we were okay on that end. As I walked through the village, it looked like a war zone. No vehicles could pass and people were aimlessly walking, looking at the raging river and ravaged landscape. I couldn't sense when all this would get fixed. I wasn't sure how it could be fixed.
Apparently, the road needed to be fixed first. Duh, Sean! A construction of a road seems simple to me, but then again, I've never had to build or pressure my government to build one. Up until this past February, I'm not sure if I had ever seen one built. Ha-Lambani, being sweet, built their own bridge and I gave my pathetic effort. I may live in a village, but I don't have village strength.
For 3 days, villagers moved earth and stone to create a temporary bridge to connect to the concrete block. In the picture to the left, people are laying down stones for traction. Villagers from over 8km away came to pitch in. In the picture to the right, you can see where the bridge washed away the new one was formed.
Even the children pitched in! School ended a few hours early one day so the teachers and children could help repair one of the nearby, smaller bridges in order for small vehicles to pass.
I'm not sure where this blogpost is going. This is the second place I have gone to where a major flood has happened during my two year commitment (Nashville 2010). It was a wild site. Hearing and seeing mud huts wash away and hearing about death and injury was heart wrenching. After the village gets rocked, to see them not wait for the inadequate government services was invigorating. I felt like I was watching that scene from Black Hawk Down where some European town was bombed and the people started clearing the rubble the next day. I think that was the movie.
This Peace Corps experience has taught me a lot. Be good to your neighbor.
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