HURRICANE STORY, 1903
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- Time and time again, Grandmother plucked
- bits of fowl coop from the pinguin fence.
- Grandfather drained his fields, shored up
- their lives against improvidence.
- When the earth baked hard again, into
- the forest he walked to cut the thatch
- to patch his house. Corn drying in the husk
- he hung from the rafters while afu yam
- and sweet potato ripened (safe from
- breeze-blow) underground.
- When the wind rose in '03, he opened his
- tin trunk, took his good clothes out
- and packed the corn in. Granny topped it
- with cassava bammies and chaklata balls
- with a nutmeg and cinnamon leaf tied
- with string. After the storm, Granny
- would extract milk from fallen coconuts,
- make coconut oil to fry the bammies, grate
- corn to make porridge, melt the chocolate
- in hot milk with cinnamon and nutmeg
- to give us courage.
- In those days storm warning came by
- telegraph to Postmistress. Living in
- the bush, Grandfather couldn't see her
- rush to broadcast the news by posting
- a black flag. But he was the seventh son
- of a seventh son and could read signs
- and interpret wonders so when the swallows
- flew below the roof line, when the sky
- took on a special peach glow, when flocks
- of birds sailed west over the hill,
- when clouds banked at the far side and the air
- was still, he knew it was time to batten down.
- Into the house Granny brought her goat
- and fowls – though in the excitement,
- two birds fled.
- Grandfather knew just when to board
- the last window up and brace the door.
- Noah's ark was never as crowded and wet.
- Thatch blew about and whipped our faces,
- water seeped in, but on Grandfather's bed
- we rode above it, everything holding
- together. For my grandfather had learnt
- from his father and his father before him
- all the ways of orchestrating disaster.
- And my grandmother schooled on Sankeys
- led us in singing. In our frail bark
- in total darkness we passed through the eye
- and out the other side, till all was still.
- When Grandfather opened the window the sun
- was shining.
- Granny hitched up her skirt and petticoats
- to unseemly heights (we children had never
- seen so much skin). Stood waist deep
- in the water in her yard and searched
- the blue skies for a sign as Noah's wife did.
- She found it when her missing sensay fowl
- and favourite leghorn rooster turned up safe
- but ruffled, having spent the night together
- in the hole in the Cotton Tree.
- And as we put our lives back together
- I too young to be schooled yet on disaster
- spent my time watching that sensay fowl that
- strutting leghorn rooster, dying to be
- the first to see the strange bird fated
- to be born out of that great storm.
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