Rain

The sound of the rain on my roof is deafening. It’s not raining very hard, I’d say it’s raining steadily, but my metal roof amplifies the sound. Not to mention that water is pouring off the gap in my roof and into the gutter right outside my door. It sounds like I’m living behind a waterfall. There’s even a steady drip, drip of the leak in my ceiling. When I look up I see that there’s a whole in my roof that was covered by cardboard. The cardboard is not enough tonight. I’ll have to remember not to leave my laptop there later.

I think it’s interesting that in the United States we associate rain with sadness and melancholy. Here, I associate rain with life.

As you may have guessed, it’s the rainy season here in Tumbes. It rains every day, but not all day. In fact, in almost exclusively rains at night. Each morning I get up to a world of mud and puddles and frogs jumping between the two, but to a sun shining brightly in the sky.

Tumbes has been transformed into a jungle of green. Although we technically live in the dry forest, this part of Tumbes is very close to the jungle. Just to the north, near the mangroves, is the only place on the continent where the jungle reaches the Pacific Ocean. These days, you can really tell how close we are. The air is filled with the songs of tropical birds, and beautiful flowers seem to be bursting from the trees. I saw a flock of wild parrots in my front yard.

A month ago the soccer fields of Tumbes were dust bowls. Now they are covered in grass. When no one is kicking around a ball, horses, donkeys, and cows graze there. It’s clear that they need it. You can see their ribs shining through their coats of fur, but now, finally there is food. Tumbes has come alive.

Of course, if the rain continues for too long there could be death. The damp, humid climate is a haven for upper respiratory disease, and the numbers of sick children at the health post has skyrocketed. The puddles of rain breed mosquitoes, and with them come bouts of malaria and dengue. Worse yet, the river could flood and kill all of the crops. It’s happened before, setting Malval up for a rough year of poverty.

But for now, the rain is beautiful, and a welcome break from the heat. Let’s just hope that we don’t get too much of a good thing.