(Note: Lots o' text, few photos. If that's not appealing, dear reader, feel free to skip ahead. Also, I stole these photos from fellow trip-mates as my 3+ cameras were stuffed in a dry bag. I failed on the documentation here, but escaped with my life; good swap?!)
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Here's a new one for you: ASTRAPHOBIA, the fear of lightning. Actually, it was new for me too; I had to look it up. Truth be told, I love a good storm. I love rain. I love running in the rain or curling up with a good book and coffee when it's raining. I love the smell of rain and the atmosphere it creates. But I've a new foundhealthy respect fear of lightning after this last excursion to Ghana.
After installing the fish cages, we hurried to leave Adovepke as it began to grow dark with a storm on the horizon. Now there are storms and there are storms. And we were headed directly into the later to get back to Yeji for the night. But what's a little rain, right? Everyone wrapped up in various jackets and tribal garments from the Makongo party as the sun set. Quite beautiful, actually.
Here's a new one for you: ASTRAPHOBIA, the fear of lightning. Actually, it was new for me too; I had to look it up. Truth be told, I love a good storm. I love rain. I love running in the rain or curling up with a good book and coffee when it's raining. I love the smell of rain and the atmosphere it creates. But I've a new found
After installing the fish cages, we hurried to leave Adovepke as it began to grow dark with a storm on the horizon. Now there are storms and there are storms. And we were headed directly into the later to get back to Yeji for the night. But what's a little rain, right? Everyone wrapped up in various jackets and tribal garments from the Makongo party as the sun set. Quite beautiful, actually.
But about an hour into the boat ride, we started raising question of the lightning that now surrounded us on three sides. Soon after that, we noticed that our hair was literally starting to stand up on end, even though most of us were fairly drenched. Picture rubbing a balloon on your head, minus the balloon. Or those freaky electricity orbs at a science museum. You get the idea.
"Can you tell when you are about to be struck by lightning? There is often a warning: a feeling similar to what happens when you touch a static electricity generator, or when you take the clothes out of the dryer and separate a staticky sock from a towel. People about to be hit can feel the hair on their bodies stand on end and sometimes report a tingling sensation. If you are in a storm and feel this, act immediately. This is all the warning you are going to get. If there are no closed shelters or low spots nearby, your only other option is to ride it out and hope for the best. Although nothing has proven to reduce the risk of being struck by lightning while outside, the crouch method is believed to lower your chances. If you are with a group of people, crouch 20 feet apart to decrease the risk of multiple people being struck. Get as low as you can to the ground. Don't do anything that will make you a more attractive target for the lightning." (compiled from here and here; there's also mention of the need to get away from water, but we'll hold off on the statistics of that one for now!)
"Ride it out and hope for the best." Seriously?!
Anyway, we all hunkered down in the bottom of the boat, careful to hold our feet out of the water, and began praying.
It seems silly now to call it "death defying", but I can tell you that every single one of us was uncertain what the outcome would be. (Optimistic Jeremy even quipped, "Well, we all have to die sometime, right?!") After what seemed like hours, Chris noticed a shoreline close by and, much to the boat driver's discontent (we might get off course), we headed that way, bailed out of the boat, and ran up on the beach like we'd been shipwrecked. The next few hours included a whole lot of rain, thunder, more lightning, a sheltered hut in a nearby village, the kindness of strangers, two small fires to keep us warm, and grateful worship time as we waited out the storm.
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[Side story: One of the most epic quotes of the trip came out of this time at what we deemed Fire Village. I'm hoping it wasn't a "you had to be there" thing, but I'm telling it anyway... Fred started gathering a few pieces of wood and placing stones for a small fire ring. Enter K., our youngest crew member and eternal ball of energy and humor...K: Did you bring any matches?
Fred: No. This is Africa. I will find a way.
(K. did produce newspaper comics to help the process as well as a polar fleece blanket Mary-Poppins-like out of his backpack... and asked if we could stay the night!)]
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As the lightning and rain slowed up, we made a run for the boat to find it was surrounded by muddy sinkholes (some waist deep) and suctioned to the mud – not budging. If I only had video of this... We lined either side of the boat and rocked it side to side until we were able to push it forward, all jumping in at the last minute as it slid into deeper water. And after yet another locational detour, we arrived in Yeji 15 hours after we set out that morning.
I can't think of another situation in my life in which I felt the way I did in the bottom of that boat. It was a time of reality and perspective. It was a time of uncertainty and yet somehow, peace. It was a time of petitioning God to see our group safely through the storm to continue our work. And it was a time of deep gratitude when He saw fit to allow it to be so.
Peace, be still.
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