It has rained every day since the beginning of May. Or maybe
not every day, but almost every day for the past five months. The mornings
often begin beautifully, sunny, warm… but by noon the clouds start rolling in,
by mid-afternoon the rain starts to fall. Sometimes gently, but often so hard
that it is not worth putting music on the radio, as it cannot compete with the
sound of the raindrops pounding on the roof (the buildings don’t have inside
ceilings- just the rafters and above them the corrugated metal or plastic roofing
material). There are a few holes in the roof that let in some of the rain, and
if I forget to put a towel on the floor by the door I wake up to a mop job. I
usually go to bed night to the sound of the rain.
When I first arrived it was the dry season, and I wondered
why there were such deep cement troughs running along the perimeter of each of
the buildings and why such deep curb gutters along the roads. Once the rainy
season began it was clear. The amount of water that has to be channeled away is
just astounding.
I noticed a few weeks ago that this has begun to take a toll
on my mood. I think I am suffering from a bit of “seasonal affective disorder.”
I realize that this is usually diagnosed for those living through winter months
when the days are short and the hours of sun are reduced. An interesting thing
I learned here is that since we are closer to the Equator, there is not that
much difference between the number of hours of sun each day in the winter and
in the summer. It has consistently been light by around 5am, and it is
consistently dark by about 7pm. And so never
having light after dinner is kind of a downer. But I think it is the rain, more
than the shorter days, that is getting to me.
I am usually the only one I see with an umbrella when it
rains. In fact, the people in Guatemala are more likely to be seen holding an
umbrella to ward off the sun than to ward off the rain. Even the word they use-
“Sombrilla” (related to the word that means “shine”) is different from the one
we learned in Spanish class- “Paraguas” (= “for the waters”). The kids go along
with their lives, doing their chores outside, moving from place to place. The
only real change is that if it is raining, they bring the dinner to the
sections where the kids live rather than have everyone traipse through the mud
into the dining hall.
I think that I have generally seen rain as a bother. Sure, Spring
thunderstorms can be awesome and the accompanying lightning a dramatic show.
But rain is something I put up with, and if I have to be outside during a storm,
I am annoyed if I get wet.
But it is different for those who live here. I think that
many welcome the contrast to the dry heat of the summer months (their “summer”
is the dry season, November –April). And I’ll admit, it gets toasty, even at
the altitude of 1500 meters where we live. But I love the sun! Those who live
here run from it. A sun tan is of no benefit for the Guatemalans. In fact, the
people here work hard to avoid it. There even seems to be a certain beauty
preference for those with lighter skin.
The rain does cool things down, and that is nice especially
at night. (Although I am not looking forward to the month of December, a dry
month, when I am told that it gets down to the 40’s at night inside the
house.) The littlest kids love to play and splash in the rain. The older ones
play soccer in it. People go about their business, hardly taking note of it. It
is just a normal part of the day.
When I was visiting the NPH home in Honduras earlier this
month I came to appreciate another perspective on the rain. The National
Director told me that they have built new cisterns to hold run-off from the
rain up in the hills, and that this rainwater (which they can use for irrigating
their crops, washing and cleaning, and purify for drinking) saves them $50/day
in electricity that they would otherwise spend to run the pump. He was all
smiles while getting drenched, explaining this to me as I listened under my
umbrella. He also said that the dry months offer a particular challenge- as the
brush and trees in the hillsides surrounding the home often catch fire. There
is no forest fire brigade in Honduras, and so the kids spend a good chunk of
time, sometimes working night and day for days at a time, putting out fires and
digging fire lines to protect their home.
Farmers at home are understandably tuned-in to the rain
levels, and I understand Lake Michigan is down a couple of feet- which has
affected some of the marinas that have to raise or extend their docks. The deep
tunnel project in Chicago has reduced flooding in basements, so heavy rains are
not as worrisome, although the Fox and Des Plaines rivers regularly flow over
their banks in the Springtime. So I am learning to make peace with the rain. I
am told it should finally end in a few weeks, and so I will be able to forget
about it for a while and my mood will probably improve. I suspect that it will improve even more in
January when I am basking in the sun while reading reports about snow and ice at
home…
