Do not step on the stone! Five things that you should watch out for as rains return

It has been raining in this my small town (and other parts of the country). Hard. And when it rains, certain things are bound to happen. For instance:

The inconsiderate driver.

You are hopping to point X. Hopping, because in this wet weather, there are things like puddles and sewage streams to jump over.

So you are carefully hopping to your destination, an umbrella open above your head like a nylon mushroom, or, perhaps, a paper bag on your head. You are wearing some of your best clothes because you refuse to let the weather cloud your sense of fashion.

Then a selectively blind driver zooms past you, splashing mud, tadpoles and cholera all over you. You shriek in horror as some of the dirty water gets into your eyes. The terrorist does not even stop to apologise profusely, or to buy you some Jik and Omo.

Depending on how severely drenched you are, you may decide to go back home or proceed with your journey, whilst wishing a scorching case of herpes on that driver.

The false stone.

Most of us have encountered this high-profile kind of deception.

You come by a huge pool of dirty rain water, sitting smug at the centre of the road, occupying the whole width of it. You have to cross it.

Good people who care about other people have put large stones along the flooded road for people to hop on and cross the pond without incidence.

But there was one evil bastard who strongly felt that it would be nice to add some spice and flavour to that puddle-crossing experience by exchanging one stone with a huge sponge camouflaged as a stone.

Then this ignoble spawn of Satan figured that it would be in everyone’s best interest to place that sponge at the deepest part of the puddle.

So there you are; innocent, unsuspecting you, jumping onto each stone to get past the body of water. Then you jump onto that sponge in the middle of the pond, which that monstrous agent of Beelzebub secretly placed, and you topple and drown. Or, if you are lucky, you find your balance, but with one leg swimming in the puddle.

Kenya Power and Lighting Company.

If there is one thing that KPLC is excellent at, it is ‘switching’ off power when it rains. Without notice.

It’s like the bosses there had a board meeting, where one of them asked, “How can we make Kenyans, who have access to electricity, feel more comfortable when it rains?”

Silence befell the boardroom as the board members intensely pondered on that heavy question.

“Thorough maintenance throughout the year to avoid any accidents during rainy periods,” one voice suggested.

Members shook their heads slowly, deep in thought.

“Quick and efficient services whenever they are in distress,” quipped another. They shook their heads again and kept on thinking.

“A blackout,” an unsure voice said.

“That is a wonderful idea!” beamed one boss.

“That is exactly what Kenyans need!” another boss smiled broadly, slamming their fist on the table happily.

“They will totally love being inconvenienced!” glowed another one. “Brilliant idea, Sebastian!” complimented another, and swiveled in his chair.

“Such genius!” another one clapped.

“Let’s do this!” they all agreed.

Forgetfulness

After days of rain and thunder, the clouds decide to open up a bit. There is some sunshine. It does not look like it will be a wet day. But you carry your umbrella, just in case. It is lunch time and you go somewhere to have a bite. The sun is really giving you what you’ve been missing. But you carry your umbrella, just in case.

You finish your lunch and head back to work. Everything is going well, until you notice the clouds gathering together fast. But it’s fine, you have an umbrella. You wind up your day and reach for your umbrella, but it’s not there.

Then it occurs to you that you forgot the umbrella in the restaurant or in a matatu. And nothing can psychologically and emotionally prepare you for an ‘I forgot my umbrella’ moment. You carry it everywhere and it does not rain, but the one time you accidentally forget it, it pours.

Colds and flus

If you do not already have a cold, then you probably know someone who does. And this is when we know people for who they really are, by how they handle their colds and flus.

Like, there are those who keep on sniffing every few seconds instead of just blowing their noses. It’s like they are so attached to the mucus and have a strong bond with it, that they cannot just let it go.

They feel it trickling down, they suck it right back up.

They feel it trickling down, they suck it right back up.

They feel it trickling down, they suuuck it right back up.

You are trying to concentrate on your life, but all you can hear and think of is that annoying sniff after every two seconds. Sniffers inspire you to eat knives.

Side note: This reminds me of a boss I once had, who used to talk until a build-up of saliva and phlegm nestled in his throat, but he would still keep on talking, un-bothered, his voice box congested with the mucusy fluid.

And so I would be there undergoing inner turmoil and torment, mentally screaming, “Why don’t you just clear your throat?!” and looking around to see if anyone else was feeling as tormented.

Or those who keep wiping their wet noses with the back of their hands, or the sleeves or hems of their shirts like feral animals, as if handkerchiefs and tissues are extinct. Or those who cough in your face without covering their mouths, or those whose sneezes are unnecessarily loud.

Stay dry and warm!