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Mum and Dad had come to this country to help the people, who were having a hard
time.
First, it was boiling hot but there were bits of bushes and dry grass, I can remember.
After a while that had gone. The goats and donkeys who’d come to nibble at it
stopped coming. I asked why they didn’t visit anymore.
Mum said, “Because there’s no more grass and leaves.” She looked tired and sad.
I was surprised. I didn’t know she’d liked the animals visiting too.
The boiling hot had stayed forever. The people Mum and Dad taught, and sometimes
helped with medicine, ran out of water and food. We were luckier because our
country still sent us some food (not very nice food) and bottled water. I sneaked bits
of food to share with my friends in the village. Most of these didn’t have parents
anymore because they’d been killed in the fighting in other villages.
One day, the rain came. At first it was exciting. I thought everything would be better
now. But Mum and Dad still looked worried. The rain was so heavy it hit you hard on
your head and shoulders. You couldn’t think or hear or see. I sat inside and waited
for it to stop. And waited.
Then there was a sound of people talking at the door. I could hear Dad getting ready
to go out. I asked Mum what was happening. She said, “The rain has come down so
fast and heavily on the dry hard ground that it hasn’t soaked in. It’s made rivers and
flooded people’s homes. Dad’s going to try and help rescue some of them.”
In the morning, Dad was so tired that we had to wake him up. He explained, “You
know that big crack that runs across the top of the hill above the village?” I nodded.
“Well, the rain had poured into it and just cut off the side of the hill. The entire hill
just fell away and covered the houses on the edge of the village. It’s called a landslide.
We did get some people out…