Santa Brought me a Cyclone for Christmas

For Christmas this year Santa sent my part of the island a class 1 tropical cyclone (category 1 hurricane). Amazingly, I saw zero preparation for the storm in Majunga. No one put sandbags on their roofs, boarded up windows, or fortified weak structures. Although the hurricane warnings had been on the radio for more than a week, no one seemed to believe them or take any heed. I asked a homeless woman in the street where she was going for the cyclone, with a perfectly calm, if not defiant face, she said, "There's a cyclone? Gimme some money."

In preparation for the immanent doom, I took shelter in an ocean view hotel with 10 other volunteers (it was the cheapest one with AC, right next to the night club, and there were only rumors of a cyclone when I made the reservation, plus- it kinda seemed sturdy). Being the total professionals that we Peace Corps Volunteers are, we stocked up the absolute essentials- water, and beer. I mean, we aren't stupid... what if theepiceries closed down for a day?

At 7 AM, as the storm began to make landfall, we headed down to the beach to work on our suntans. There we met up with the "brochette" saleswoman we had arranged with from night before to make us breakfast brochettes. A brochette is a long thin stick with 2 small chunks of grilled beef and 1 chunk of grilled fat. No, it's not normally breakfast food. After exchanging Christmasgreetings, we sat down and ordered up 200 brochettes while taking cover under a sheet metal awning. Stella (the brochette saleswoman) and us, quickly became great friends. She cooked us up hundreds of brochettes, attempted to join in on ourChristmas caroling and even joined us for a few rounds of beer.

Our cozy Christmas morning, got all the more merrier when the Chief de Destrict (equivalent to a deputy Mayor) came passing through. We invited him for a beer and he stayed with us for the next few hours. He was a very serious, polite, older gentleman.... until the beer got to him. Pretty soon he's joining in theChristmas caroling, calling out toasts like a champ and demanding my friends hat as a cadeaut . My friend happened to be very attached to his hat and so things turned a little ugly. After 15 minutes of intense discussion, (meanwhile,btw, there's a friggin hurricane pounding us with rain and wind) we are saved from a major altercation and international political incident when my friend's girlfriend (who'sgasy) stands up and reads him the riot act in french (french is the language of STFU in this country). In the end, he stole a pack of cigarettes from my friend and quietly stumbled off.

At around 12, when trees started to blow over and Stella's awning was threatening to blew away, we decided to make a run for it back to the hotel. We arrived safely, though slightly damp. Over the next several hours we waited out the storm in our rooms playing poker and speculating on whether or not those of us who live nearby on the coast would still have houses come morning. At some point, the roof of the night-club adjoining our hotel loses its roof in one fantastic screeching crash. Gigantic pieces of corrugated sheet metal lifted off and rained down on the street in front of our hotel. Shortly thereafter, A large wooden TVantenna came down in the courtyard of our hotel and the small gasy food stand across the street completely blew away. Overall though, the storm was really not all that strong, but when no one makes any preparations for an approaching hurricane, things get f*ed up.

At around 9pm, we discovered that we had forgotten to stock up on food and we're hungry. As the storm began letting up. my friend Nate and I decided to make a break for the "Bizary" where food was rumored to be found. (PS, by this time the beer has been long gone and we are no longer intoxicated in any way) While trying to cross over the roofing debris from the nightclub and the destroyed food stand, I slipped. I fell very hard, stubbed my toe and sliced open my hand on a huge piece of timber. Strangely, I at first was only conscious of stubbing my toe. I grabbed hold of my friend's shirt and as I hopped around on one foot, my friend notices that I'm bleeding everywhere. We walked back to the hotel where I sit down on the floor. Everyone is a bit freaked out as I am sitting, then lying on the floor next to a small puddle of blood. I keep trying to tell them not to worry, I just stubbed my toe and got a little paper cut. Then I take a good look at my hand, see the gash and instantly feel dizzy. The gash runs about two inches from the inside of my right pinkie vertically down my palm to the outside of my hand. The cut is deep into the meat of my hand, but luckily, it missed all my arteries and tendons. My friend's brother who is a hardcore "hot shot" forest firefighter, administers some professional first aid and I easily wait out the next 12 hours before the streets are cleared so that I can get to the hospital.

The next morning I nervously head over to the best hospital this 3rd world provincial capital has to offer. The doctor's assistant viciously rips off the dressing from the night before and after only an hour wait with my gaping wound staring me in the face, the doctor shows up. He immediately cleans out the wound (ouch!) and gets ready to put in 4 stitches with what seems to me to be an excessively large sewing needle and some fishing wire (although I'm sure it wasn't). I asked if they had any pain dulling spray or maybe an anesthetic shot or a Tylenol or anything. He looks at me like I just asked him for a lolly-pop and hug. Needless to say, I cried out like a little girl who's favorite dolly just got microwaved.

So that was my Christmas. Overall, it was a great time. Next year however, I'd prefer a white Christmas among friends and family.

PS- It's been 10 days and I just had the stitches removed. No problems- I appear to be healing nicely. GG