society if white people saw culture as more nuanced than the "all around the globe" videos they watched in elementary school

Raya and the Last Dragon: The Importance of Water in Southeast Asia

Disclaimer: The following is from the perspective of a Filipino SEA. Please feel free to add or edit from other perspectives. There are *spoilers* below.

Though Raya and the Last Dragon has its flaws, what it did well, it did really well. Out of every cultural reference that I spotted in this film, the one that stood out the most was the portrayal of water. 

In the end credits song, Lead the Way, originally sung in English by Jhené Aiko, there is one lyric that stands out as a nod to this culture of water:

There's an energy in the water There is magic deep in our heart There's a legacy that we honor When we bring the light to the dark Whatever brings us together Can nevеr tear us apart We becomе stronger than ever

There are beautiful views of bodies of water in the movie, and scenes that deliberately look over them. But, it’s much more than that.

The geography of SEA is already so rooted with water. The lands that make up the region are either located on a peninsula and cut through with rivers, or made up of hundreds of islands in the middle of the ocean. 

So, let’s talk about water in SEA and in this movie. Below is an in-depth analysis of the cultural significance of water whether it is rain, rivers, oceans, or mythological aspects alluded to in the film.

Nagas and other myths

Let’s start with mythology because this is the basis of much of Raya and the Last Dragon. I want to first point out that this is not an opinion post, so I will not be touching much on my opinions on how the dragons looked like. (TLDR: Disney could’ve done better.) 

So many myths in SEA are connected to water besides the dragons, but let’s focus on those.

I did mention briefly about naga and water dragons in my long analysis post on the final international trailer. However, I will go in a little deeper here.

Naga The dragons in this movie are based on the SEA version of a dragon. More specifically a sea serpent or a water serpent. They don’t breathe fire. In fact, they have nothing to do with fire. Their powers all influence water (and sometimes create earthquakes). Their powers include typical influence over water, creating rain, causing winds, and shape-shifting.  They are incredibly powerful and revered. Sometimes they are even seen as deities like the Bakunawa in the Philippines. In RATLD, these nagas have a long horn at the front most prominent in Thai and Laotian versions of nagas. They are scaly and might have a kind of crown on their head, or gold jewelry around them. In most portions of SEA, nagas don’t have legs. It looks like the dragons here were partially inspired by an East Asian dragon or maybe the Vietnamese dragon. Other depictions can have them with multiple heads. Nagas also appear in South Asian culture. Here’s a quote from my initial long analysis post to add to this:

Naga are so important within SEA cultures that we have multiple places (and a river) named after them all over SEA and particularly a few times in the Philippines. 

What I can tell you is mostly the Philippine version, but a naga is a serpentine creature that lives deep in the ocean, and are often associated with water. Sometimes they are depicted as having the upper half of a woman. 

...

In the southern islands of the Philippines, depictions of naga are seen carved throughout buildings, particularly on roofs. A typical dance movement where you keep your hands curved and your fingers bent toward yourself is called “naga hands” and is supposed to be reminiscent of a naga’s graceful claws.

Bakunawa Just to highlight why nagas are so revered, I’m going further into the myth of Bakunawa. Specifically, the Bakunawa story comes from around the Visayas and Bicol regions of the Philippines which is south of the main island of Luzon. Bakunawa is said to be a giant sea dragon with a mouth as large as a lake. It lives deep in the ocean and has influence over the sea and earthquakes, in the depths of the underworld. There are a few versions of the story including that the Bakunawa is a naga that was enthralled by the beauty of the 7 moons and ate them until there was only 1 left.  In some versions the god Bathala stopped Bakunawa from devouring the last moon. In other versions, the people down below made loud noises with pots and pans to scare Bakunawa from eating it. There are also another version in which the Bakunawa was once a beautiful goddess. It is also known as a man-eater in other tales. There are similar versions of a giant serpent or dragon-like bird causing eclipses (whether lunar or solar) in other parts of the Philippines.

Rain

I can’t tell you how important rain is in SEA. It’s not that it never rains, but that it rains a lot. Much of SEA is rainforests, which is an attribute that contributes so the rich biodiversity. 

In RATLD, rain is depicted as a positive event...because it is. Raya and her friends are shown happy and laughing when Sisu makes rain. Sure, rain can be bad. Too much of it comes with typhoons and floods, but rain means a lot more than the bad things.

But enough rain means that the rivers aren’t dried out. Take the desert region of Kumandra for example. Raya goes there to the end of a dried up river. At the end when the dragons all come back, rain falls and the river is alive again. The people in that region can prosper again.

Rain symbolizes new life Now, this story I’m about to tell you is completely from oral tradition and was passed down to me by a culture bearer from from the island of Mindanao in the Philippines.  This person said that when they were young, they did not have to worry about buying food because it was always available around them. If it rained, that was a good thing because it meant that the next day when the grass was damp, there would be mushrooms sprouting that they could pick. (There is an umbrella dance coming from this region that depicts mushrooms popping up after a storm.) If it was windy from the rain, it meant that there were fruit that would shake out of the trees.   Rain also means food will grow. Staples like rice need a lot of water. Rice paddies need to be to be constantly flooded so that they can grow, and water means food whether it is in the form of rain, rivers, or the ocean. It means fresh drinking water and abundance.

Nagas and rain Remember how above I said that nagas can influence rainfall? Well, Sisu does just that in this movie. She says that one of her siblings originally had this power, and Sisu gained it because she came into contact with a piece of the dragon gem.  This adds to the positivity of rain because nagas are already so revered because of the magic they can do in the movie (and in mythology), that the people that witness it are in absolute awe. 

Rivers

Besides the ocean, rivers are the heart of SEA. From the Mekong River that runs through 5 SEA countries including Vietnam, Myanmar, Laos, Thailand, and Cambodia, to the UNESCO site of the underground river in Palawan, Philippines...rivers are just part of the lay of the land. 

They are shown to be all of those things in RATLD. There are streams and tributaries that flow into mountains and underground where the dragon gem was originally hidden in Heart. Additionally, there is the incredibly long river that separates the land in the shape of a dragon that flows through all the regions of Kumandra, reminiscent of the Mekong.  Rivers are so important that there is even a region in the Philippines called Pampanga that is named after the Tagalog translation of the word “river” seen in the first part of the region’s name, “pampang.” They are the people of the river. 

There are whole fishing villages throughout SEA that are built on a river. In fact, there’s one in RATLD. 

Rivers are a source of many things, including food and drinking water. When there is a flood during wet season, the land will be full of silt, making the land prime for planting.

I don’t have to tell you how important a water dragon is at this point, but the fact that the movie chose to have that be the shape of the river is significant because nagas live in rivers too. 

Transportation This should be a no-brainer, but in case you forgot, rivers mean boats. Boats mean people will want to get around and trade. And, boat culture is so important in SEA.  There are all kinds of boats in the region from the huge deep-water kind, to the fishing boats, to thin canoe-like ones, to coracles. You can see them especially showcased in the river town in Tail in Kumandra. 

Oceans

Honestly, there wasn’t much about the sea in RATLD, but it’s important to note because nagas in and of themselves have origins in the ocean as well. 

The sea is another very important core of SEA culture. Its waters are more unforgiving than rivers, and more unpredictable. Magical, mythological sea creatures tend to be more violent here, and will only be kind to those who are kind first.

In island nations like the Philippines and Indonesia, the people rely on the ocean for so many things. Especially if they live right on the water, some can be fantastic swimmers and can dive and fish for their own food. The ocean is respected, and it is feared.

Though there is no explicit ocean in RATLD, there are elements from port cities and towns that exist including the deep-water boats. In the movie and in SEA, seafood is important.

There’s a scene where Raya and Sisu meet Boun and he offers them shrimp congee. Shrimp is a popular food in SEA, and can be seen in many dishes besides congee or any rice-based dishes. 

In the river town, we also see elements of passing fish baskets through the water after a day of fishing, and eating and buying fresh foods to cook later in a water-side market.

Irrigation

It’s pretty obvious that water is needed for irrigation, but just think about how earlier I pointed out how deeply water is utilized. Much of the food in SEA needs water to survive, a lot more than in landlocked countries. 

Rice terraces Remember rice? It needs a heck ton of irrigation in order to survive. This means a lot of rain and a lot of soil cultivating. If you take a look at the rice terraces that surround Fang, and even the picture of more overgrown terraces next to the river in the transportation section of this analysis, you can see that rice paddies are supposed to be flooded. Rice terraces are all over Asia, but there are so many of them in SEA that are ancient and still work including the Tagalalang rice terraces in Bali, Indonesia and the Banaue rice terraces in Banaue, Philippines. Honestly I could talk about the importance of rice and water for ages. Sure, rice is a staple in all of Asia, not just in SEA, but in East Asia as well. However, I would argue that it is even more of a staple in SEA.  Sure, there are noodle dishes, and bread, but rice is so ridiculously important that in the Philippines, it’s not considered a real meal if there is no rice. There is even a word for food eaten with rice, “ulam.” In fact, in the entire movie, I don’t think I can recall one eating scene in which the characters are not also eating rice with their food. Unless of course, it’s just a snack like fruit. (Maybe there was a stew only scene?) There is a scene towards the beginning of the movie when Raya asks Namaari, “Stew or rice?” when asking which she would prefer. Namaari never answers the question, but she says that it is her first time eating rice in a while. Though it’s never explicitly said, it could be implied that it is because they did not have as much rainwater for irrigation at the time. 

Protection

I’ve talked about rivers and the ocean, but I haven’t talked about water as a barrier. Though water as a barrier isn’t an infallible one, it is still important to note.

Protecting from intruders SEA is separated by water. It is also a region that had wars within their own countries in pre-colonial times, and of course, when they were colonized. (Though shout out to Thailand for being lucky in that regard. It remains the only country in SEA not colonized by Europeans.)  There were wars between chiefs in the Philippines, and often they had to traverse the ocean or cross bodies of waters to get to the lands they needed to fight on. It ended up becoming a process with a lot of planning. Though SEAs are people of the water, they obviously can’t breathe under it.  Nagas here are also important because in RATLD they are seen as powerful, respected protectors. And of course, they are borne of the water.

If you take a look at the picture above, it shows that part of the movie when the water starts disappearing because Sisu disappears. As the last water dragon, her connection to the water was keeping the land alive. With Sisu gone, so was the water, and therefore the protection for the people. The Druun spirit came in with no more hindrances because there was no water to stop them. 

The power of the water and the magical energy of the water dragon really showcased itself here.

Interconnectedness

SEA used to be an interconnected region that traded with each other. Of course, not that SEA countries don’t trade now, but it isn’t at the same level as before. The borders now were created after centuries of colonialization. 

Water is what connected all the countries of SEA. 

Just take a look at the map of SEA above (in red). There is no other region of the world that’s quite like this, except maybe Oceania and around the Mediterranean. It’s relatively easy for these countries and people to trade and share cultures and traditions with one another. Manila, Philippines and the Tondo region was once one of the most frequented ports in SEA. Trade was done with China, India, Africa, and the Middle East. The same kind of trade occurred in other SEA countries as well.

Because of the history of trade over water that is rich in its pre-colonial past, SEA shares many similar cultural aspects and even similar words in languages. Though of course, though there are similarities, there are a lot of differences as well. SEA is not a monolith.

If you want to think of it this way...that Korea, China, and Japan share so many things with each other including having a history of being able to share Chinese characters (the different names including hanzi, kanji, hanja), but that each country and culture is very different...that is what SEA is too. 

This aspect of interconnectedness, yet with differences is emulated in RATLD. In the lore for Kumandra, the movie notes that all the regions were once one, but were separated after something broke them (that something being the malice of the Druun spirit). Yet, if they worked together they could become Kumandra once again. 

It is shown in RATLD that the best way to make the spicy stew that is pops up multiple times, is to add all the spices and ingredients from all the regions of the land that was once Kumandra. This showcases that just like SEA, Kumandra was once a land of incredible interconnected communication and trade.

Kumandra wasn’t colonized, but it was separated by 500 years of land. The people didn’t use the water the same way. SEA was colonized (and actually, 500 years to the date on March 15, 1521 to March 15, 2021—the Philippines was “discovered” by the Spaniards so I wonder if that was a conscious choice on Disney’s part), and broken apart. I’m sure that without European colonialization, SEA could’ve been one huge interconnected country. Or bigger countries with different dialects. 

Spirituality 

Lastly, let’s talk about the spirituality of water. In RATLD, there are no other spirits besides the Druun which is made of discord and malice created from human malcontent. Yet, the Druun cannot go near water. I don’t know the exact reason for why it can’t or if it was inspired by a piece of mythology from an SEA country, but that is significant. (If you do know the reasoning behind this, please feel free to add onto this.)

SEA is full to the brim with myths and legends of nature spirits. From spirits that live in trees, to spirits that live in the water. And yes, they are spirits. They can be spirits of ancestors too.  The way Chief Benja pours a bowl of water on Raya’s head as beads of it float into the air...it is a great touch to highlight the energy that water just inherently has in any SEA tradition.

Though it’s probably a little reaching to point this out, the fact that Sisu was said to be washed to the end of a river is so interesting when Raya is looking for her. This is because in some SEA myths the river takes your spirit to the underworld. Raya finds Sisu at the end of a river and she is made of stone, her spirit stolen until her power is unleashed again with the dragon gem. 

Floating flowers Perhaps the most beautiful aspect of the movie and as it relates to water is the fact that the animators made a conscious choice to show so much imagery of characters making flowers float upon water. And of course, to use floating flowers as decoration. Characters like Raya, Boun, and Sisu float flowers that look like orchids or jasmine flowers to remember their lost loved ones. The choice of flowers is significant too. These are flowers that are native to SEA. There are flowers everywhere and that is so pretty and so accurate. To have them used as decoration floating in pools is also so nice too, because it is something that is done in households and not just in a palace. You can float a gardenia flower in a bowl of water to make the scent spread in a room, and it makes the flower last longer.

End 

I’m sure there is a lot more I missed or things I got wrong. If you see anything you want to add or fix, please feel free to write it in any future reblogs!

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 27: Vortex

Chapter 26

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Vortex: a mass of swirling water that draws everything to it

——

In late August, with September right around the corner, Claire and Faith were about to experience their first hurricane. Claire had experienced all levels of terrifying weather with Uncle Lamb out in the field, including floods, sandstorms, mudslides, and nearly every other manner of natural disasters. Hurricanes, however, had eluded them. They’d only gone to South America one time, and they’d merely seen some heavy rainfall.

Claire had been keeping her eye on the news, seeing how hurricane Matthew was affecting other areas along the east coast. She shuddered to think of them even losing power, let alone anything actually disastrous happening. All news and weather outlets were assuring that by the time it hit the island, it would have lost most of its power, so the storm wouldn’t be devastating, but it would do damage nonetheless.

Claire was doing another scan of the weather channel (which Faith did not appreciate) before work when her phone rang. Jamie.

“Sassenach?”

“This is she.”

“Good morning, lass. Sleep well?”

“I did, is everything alright?”

“Aye, fine. Just wanted to check in. The storm is gonna hit tomorrow; wanted to make sure ye were prepared.”

“Prepared enough,” Claire said, throwing a bar and a yogurt into her purse. “I’ve gotten the bread and milk, as they say. Stocked up.”

“Aye, that’s good. Are ye prepared for losing power?”

“Flashlights are ready with spare batteries and all. Portable charger for the iPad.”

“What about fer you?”

“Oh, I have to be at the hospital before it starts and then stay. It runs on a generator so I’ll be good with a regular charger.”

“Wait, what d’ye mean, stay?”

“Well, I’m considered an emergency worker so I can’t take off. I’m going to have to sleep there if the roads are flooded or blocked with trees.” Claire zippered her purse as she flitted back into the living room, then started pulling on her shoes.

“Ye could be there for days, Sassenach.”

“I know.”

“What about Faith?”

The little girl in question barreled into her as if on cue, waiting for her goodbye. “One second, Jamie. Yes, time for goodbye hugs.” Claire crouched down and gave her daughter a squeeze and a kiss. “Be good for Mrs. Lickett. Yes? Okay, bye-bye.”

With one final kiss and a farewell to Mrs. Lickett, Claire was out the door. “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“What’re ye gonna do wi’ Faith while ye’re at the hospital?”

“Oh,” Claire said, opening her car and sliding into the driver’s seat. “I’m dropping her off at the Abernathy’s with a few provisions before work tomorrow. After I’ve taped all the windows, of course,” she added wryly.

“She’ll be alright?”

Claire sighed as she started the car. “She’s going to have to be.”

Her voice wavered, and she cursed herself.

“She’s never spent the night away from home. Will she no’ get upset?”

“I don’t really have much of a choice.” She was not defensive or angry, but resigned, sad. She didn’t want to leave Faith at someone else’s house, but she could not very well ask Gail to live with her toddler and child in her small apartment for an indeterminable amount of time. The fact that they’d opened their home to Faith was kind enough. She couldn’t very well ask it of Mrs. Lickett, either. Her children were older, but she still shouldn’t be away from them for that long during a potentially dangerous storm.

Jamie was silent on the other end, and as Claire turned onto the main road, something clenched in her throat. He couldn’t be upset with her, could he? He couldn’t be judging her decision, condemning her for planning to dump her child off during a natural disaster? Logic told her that of course he wouldn’t, but she was so god damned insecure about it all herself that she could not be calmed.

“You still there?”

“Aye,” he answered quickly. “Sorry, I was thinking.”

Claire swallowed. “What about?”

He paused again. “Tell me to shut my gab at any point going forward,” he began uncertainly.

Claire’s brow furrowed. “Ehm, alright…”

“What if…what if I stayed wi’ her. In her own home.”

Claire was gobsmacked. Her mouth actually dropped open in surprise.

“Please tell me no if ye’re truly no’ comfortable, Claire. I mean it. I ken it may be too soon, and I understand. I just thought to offer — ”

“Jamie,” Claire cut him off. “It’s okay…I…” She blinked away tears. “Would you really be alright doing that?”

“Aye,” he said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Anything I can do to make it easier fer her. It’s gonna be scary.”

Claire swallowed thickly. “She’s heard thunderstorms before.”

“I’m sure. But this willna be like anything she’s ever experienced. And Gail is lovely, truly, she’s a blessing fer ye both, but she’s…she’s no’ you.”

“And she’s not you,” Claire said, finishing for him what he likely was thinking but would never say.

“Claire, I’d never presume —”

“Well I would,” Claire said. “There’s no denying you have the experience that Gail lacks, Jamie. And Faith trusts you. And I trust you.”

He was silent, likely processing what she said. Claire turned into the employee parking lot.

“Besides,” Claire said with a chipper tone that was only slightly forced. “It’ll be good for her to have you all to herself. You’ve never been alone with her before.”

She heard him chuckle. “Aye. Ye think she’ll like that?”

Claire put her car in park, and her heart swelled, warming her from the inside out. “I really think she will.”

——

Jamie arrived the following morning with a duffle bag and a backpack. The sky was already gray, the air thick with the oncoming storm, the wind picking up. He’d half expected the skies to open up on his way there.

The door opened, and his heart cracked. Claire’s sweet, lovely “hello” included a smile, but he could see that frantic look in her eye. She was close to tears. He greeted her gently and then addressed the bouncing, squealing thing below them.

“Ah, yes, hello, wean.” He cupped her head gently to stop her bouncing. “I’m happy to see you, too, lass. Can ye fetch ballerina Minnie Mouse? I’d like to see her if ye dinna mind.”

Like a shot, she was off, eager to please Jamie, and Jamie pulled Claire into his arms. She clung to him tightly, breathing deeply into his neck.

“It’s times like these,” she began shakily, “that I believe Frank was right.”

His brow furrowed. “Whatever d’ye mean?”

“That I should’ve given it up, that I still should.” She sniffled. “I don’t know if I can leave her for several days during…during what they’re saying it’s going to be…”

“It’s alright, Sassenach.” He kissed the top of her head, and then Faith emerged from her room, waving the stuffed animal above her head. “Ah, thank ye, lass. What about…” He wracked his brain, trying to remember any of the dozens of toys she’d shown him. “Daisy Duck? Can I see her?”

She was off again, and Claire laughed wetly against him.

“Listen to me, Claire Beauchamp.” Jamie pulled far enough away so that he could tilt her chin up and look her in the eye. “Ye’re a doctor because it is what God put ye on this Earth to do. Ye’re a damn fine one, from what I gather. Ye’re going to help lots of people in the next few days, people that might have been much worse of wi’out ye.”

“What about the baby that He gave me?” Claire said hoarsely. “The baby with…so much that she needs from me…”

“It’s not just you,” Jamie said, with the most careful combination of firmness and gentleness he can muster. “No’ anymore.”

Claire rested her forehead against his, breathing deeply. “It’ll be alright,” he assured her, Faith puttering back in with the next toy. He praised her quietly, tucking Daisy under his arm with Minnie. “I will do everything in my power to see that she’s alright these next few days.”

“I know,” Claire said, then pressed her lips to his. “I know.”

Faith was reaching up, bouncing again impatiently. Jamie handed her back down her toys; evidently, she did not like them out of place for very long.

“I can’t thank you enough for this,” Claire said, squeezing his hands. “I think I’d be beside myself if I left her away from home. Well,” she laughed dryly, “more so than I already am.”

“It is an honor to ease yer burden, mo ghraidh.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckles fervently. 

Claire led him around the apartment to show him one last time where everything was kept; Faith’s vitamins and nighttime medicine, snacks, candles, spare batteries, matches. Jamie had remembered, but he let her show him all of it again to ease her mind. He knew it helped her feel like she had more control over the situation.

“Once the power goes out,” she said, gathering her own duffle bag with her overnight essentials. “Either soybean butter and jelly, cold cuts from that cooler that’s still in the fridge for as long as they’ll keep, or the spaghetti-o’s. Just pretend you’re using the microwave or something and she’ll never know the difference.”

Jamie nodded seriously, though he’d remembered all that, too.

“And watch her with the fridge. She’ll keep it open and stare in there looking for something which is bad enough when there is power. Make sure she doesn’t let the insulated coolness out if you can help it. Though if it’s gone for too long it’s a moot point.”

“Right. Got it.” Jamie nodded curtly. A large gust of wind howled outside, rattling the windows.

“Jesus.” Claire shuddered.

“Ye’d better get going before ye get stuck in the oncoming downpour,” Jamie said.

“Right.” Claire froze in the middle of the living room, her eyes glued to Faith, sitting cross-legged with Angus’s head in her lap, calmly stroking his fur. Jamie’s heart strained, and Claire looked like she might cry again. She exhaled heavily and crouched down next to Faith.

“Hey, baby.” She cupped her little head and smiled. Faith kept her attention on Angus, and Claire gently tapped her nose. “Can you look at me, Faith?” She did not, and so Claire took her hands off of Angus and held them between hers. Somewhat annoyed, Faith looked up at Claire, obviously waiting for her hands to be released. “Hi,” Claire said. “Remember what we said? Quiet hands, quiet feet, and quiet mouth for Jamie.” She pointed to each mentioned body part. “And listening ears on.” Claire poked each of her ears, one after the other. “Mummy will be gone for a few days, but Jamie is going to play with you, and keep you safe. It’s all going to be okay. It might get very dark, or very loud, and there might not be any tellie. But Jamie is going to make sure you’re okay. Yes?”

Faith moaned impatiently, and it was unclear if she was listening.

Jamie is going to make sure you’re okay.

Jamie’s chest involuntarily puffed out, and his back straightened. He silently and solemnly vowed to do just that.

“I’m going to miss you, lovie.” Claire cupped both of Faith’s cheeks. “I love you.” She held up the sign, and Faith mirrored her as always, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m going to call every day. I’ll talk to you on the phone. I promise.” Claire pulled Faith in  for a hug, squeezing her tightly. “Big goodbye hugs,” she whispered into her hair.

When Claire released her, she stood up with a heavy sigh. Jamie was holding her duffle bag, and he walked her to the door.

“Please be careful,” Jamie said. “Text me when ye get there.”

“I will.”

He kissed her deeply, pressing her tightly to him. When their lips parted, he looked into her eyes, those swimming pools of amber and honey. On his tongue was something he’d known, something he’d been burning to unleash from within him since April.

I love you.

Instead, he swallowed thickly and kissed her forehead. “Drive safe, Sassenach.”

With one final squeeze of his hand and a reassuring smile, she was gone. Jamie ran a hand over his face before peeking out the window to make sure she pulled out of the driveway. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her. Christ, he’d wanted to reply with it the second he watched that video; he’d wanted to tell her that day in the office, he’d wanted to tell her on the ferris wheel, the carousel, he’d wanted to tell her when she fell asleep and drooled on his shoulder halfway through The Godfather, he’d wanted to tell her when he’d finally positioned himself between her legs and entered her, and felt so completely fulfilled and complete, and every time he was in that position thereafter.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not until she was ready to hear it.

He knew she was scared; no matter how well this was going, he knew she was still worried and paranoid. He wouldn’t rush her.

A giggle pulled him out of that train of thought, and he realized that Claire’s car was long gone. It had also already started to rain, and it would definitely get nasty soon. He turned to see Faith grinning impishly down at Angus, who was licking Faith’s open palm over and over. This was something she did often, put her palm right at his snout and wait for him to oblige her. Jamie supposed she liked the tickling sensation. He smiled and made his way to the couch, sitting down and watching Faith with her loyal companion for a while.

Claire had given him a whole list of things that Mrs. Lickett usually does with Faith while Claire is gone for the day. There was play-doh, the big clunky legos (both good for fine motor), the flashcards for identifying signs, and of course coloring. On the list, Claire wrote that when Faith colored with Mrs. Lickett, Mrs. Lickett always — underlined several times — signed the color that Faith picked up. Color identification would be a big deal once she started school.

Something else that Jamie knew would come once school started was the school district-provided tablet for text to speech communication. Claire had been recommended speech therapies to get a head start on that, but she’d turned them all down, insisting that it was very important to her that Faith know how to sign before relying solely on the screen. And since Faith had proven capable, she’d stuck to that.

It amazed Jamie how Claire somehow just knew what was best for her child. Jamie saw all too often at the stables parents that had no idea what they were doing. Which was understandable and nothing to be judged about. But when he’d reach out, recommend additional services, hint that they might get more out of equine therapy if they approached certain things a different way, they didn’t want to hear it. It was hard to watch those kids regress because their parents weren’t willing to set their pride aside and admit they weren’t aware of something. But his reach only extended so far, and if he was going to sleep at night, he had to let those things off his conscience.

With Claire, if someone offered her advice, she could plainly tell them that she’d already researched that and had either tried it or decided it was not going to work, but thank you very much. Prompt speech therapy, for instance. If Jamie had a nickel every time Claire complained to him that yet another person had recommended Faith try it, he’d be quite the rich man. Prompt speech involved a lot of touching, and Faith would certainly not be okay with that. Even if it meant her daughter would never say a word, Claire would not put her through it. Not even an eval.

And Jamie admired the hell out of her for it.

After letting Faith continue with Angus for a bit, Jamie intervened and ushered her into the kitchen for some “structured play with learning benefits,” as Claire had referred to it. Faith, having never done any of the listed activities with Jamie, wanted to do every single one. They went on even longer than Jamie had anticipated she would sit still for because playing these games with Jamie was a novelty. They built a castle with a wall with her legos, made several snakes and desserts out of play-doh, colored, and worked on signs. Faith was not satisfied until every single card was flipped over and worked on. Jamie knew full well that she did not insist on such a thing with Mrs. Lickett. It made him grin smugly and melt at the same time.

It was pouring in earnest by the time Jamie finished getting through Faith’s stack of flashcards. Instinctually, he checked his messages from Claire, even though she’d told him hours ago by now that she’d gotten in safely. The wind was picking up, too, turning into a constant roar.

“Ye’re brilliant, Princess Faith,” Jamie said, giving her a thumbs up. “Ye did such great work today, lass. I’m so proud of you.”

She smiled cheekily and then reached for her crayons and princess coloring book again. Rain suddenly pelted against the kitchen window, the wind having changed direction to blast the water right into the glass. Faith dropped her crayon with a startled cry and clamped her hands over her ears. Jamie had to admit it even startled him.

“It’s alright, lass,” he crooned, getting out of his chair to kneel beside hers. He stroked her back soothingly. “Just the rain. It’s alright.”

She kept her eyes squeezed shut and her hands on her ears, so Jamie switched tactics. He scooped her in his arms, cradling her to his chest. He brought her out of the kitchen and deposited her on the couch. If the wind was blowing into the window in the back of the apartment, perhaps a similar noise would not happen in the front windows. He called Angus over when Faith still would not move or open her eyes, and after a few minutes of deep pressure, she at least opened her eyes. Jamie was then able to coax her into picking a DVD. They were on borrowed time until they lost power, so he thought it best to take advantage of the tellie while they still had it.

She ended up choosing a Winnie the Pooh movie, jabbing at it with her elbow, hands still on her ears. She didn’t even take them off to put the movie in the player, though she stood by and watched every move Jamie made as he did so instead. As the DVD started playing the previews before the “play” screen, Faith got behind Jamie and started pushing against his legs. He took this as his cue to walk, and he allowed her to push him into her bedroom. He knew immediately what she wanted. He smiled widely as he stepped into the room and picked up the enormous “Pooh Bear” that he’d won for her at the carnival. Faith hummed in excitement and bounced a little as Jamie carried the giant bear into the living room and deposited him on the couch. She skipped back into her room and Jamie gathered the rest of her Hundred-Acre Wood friends, arranging them around their giant leader.

A few minutes into the movie, Faith finally took her hands off her ears and began enjoying the movie in earnest. The wind continued to howl and the windows continued to rattle, but the movie drowned most of it out for now, as did Faith’s giggling and humming along to the little songs. At one point, she moved all of the little toys into Jamie’s lap and tipped over the giant bear so she could lay bodily on top of him. It really was practically a mattress underneath her. She nuzzled further in, humming contentedly and smiling broadly, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Jamie smiled down at her, her eyes fixed on the screen, and then he brought his legs up on the couch, cross-legged, so he could fit every toy she’d given him in his lap, holding onto them with as much care as he would if Faith herself was in his lap.

The power went out before the movie finished, close to the end if Jamie deduced correctly. Faith immediately sat up, nearly toppling off the couch because of her uneven position on the bear. Jamie felt dread settling in his gut, and he immediately wanted to kick himself. He’d made the wrong move, and he was about to pay dearly for it.

Faith slid off both bear and couch and marched right up to the tellie. She began pushing all the buttons on the tellie and the DVD player, the volume of her whining increasing. Jamie set aside her toys and approached her tentatively.

“Faith, it’s alright. Remember what Mummy said? That there might be no tellie?”

With a great wail, she began slapping her hands against the television screen, and Jamie grabbed her wrists.

“No, lass, ye canna do that. No hitting.”

She began screaming in earnest, jerking against him with all her might.

“I’m sorry, Faith. The tellie is all done. I’m sorry.”

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she continued to pull against his grip on her wrists. He swiftly picked her up under the arms and deposited her away from the electronics. She pointed at the tellie, bouncing impatiently, wailing all the while.

“Aye, lass. I ken. It’s my fault, I’m sorry.” Jamie genuinely hated himself at the moment. He thought they’d have time before the power was gone, he thought that it would be good for her to be able to watch a movie that wasn’t downloaded to her tablet. He should’ve thought of this possibility, and he should’ve known that she’d be grossly unhappy if the movie was unable to finish. It would drive her mad for hours, knowing that the movie was sitting unfinished in the player. She couldn’t even get it out of the player to put away. One of her biggest OCD triggers had gone off, and it was his fault.

Jamie wracked his brain. Claire had said if she were melting down to either give hugs and cuddles, or to deposit her in her room and let her scream it out. That is if Angus didn’t do the trick. Jamie tried for the hug, but narrowly avoided a swinging fist. Clearly she blamed him for the tellie’s sudden malfunction. As she should, he thought miserably.

He called Angus over just as Faith started swinging her arms with abandon, and Jamie caught one of her fists before it collided with a picture frame on the table behind the couch. She pushed at his hand, punched his arm, pulled backward, but Jamie knew that if he let go, she’d dive right for trouble and possibly break something. Angus arrived just as Faith sank her teeth into the skin of Jamie’s hand.

He swore in Gaelic, and then he pinched her nose shut, causing her mouth to immediately open as a reflex. Jamie shook his hand, hissing in pain, but he didn’t skip a beat. He maneuvered himself to be behind Faith, and he scooped up the photos in her reach. He stood back and let Angus do his job, shoving his bleeding hand into the pocket of his shorts to avoid dripping anywhere else. At least if it stained, it wouldn’t be where anyone could see.

Angus kept hopping up on his hind legs so he could brush his snout against Faith’s screaming face, gently patting her chest with his paw before falling to all fours again. Every time, Faith pushed him away with an indignant yelp, but he kept trying until she sank to the ground with him, tightly squeezing his neck. Jamie sighed with relief when girl and dog were settled in a pile on the floor. He took the opportunity to put a bandaid on his hand before it soaked through his pockets.

When he returned after being in the bathroom for mere seconds, Faith’s screaming had been reduced to a heartbreaking, whimpering sobbing. Angus used his front paws to stop Faith from scratching and hitting her face or pulling at her hair, and he started licking her palms to keep them otherwise occupied. Jamie sighed and quietly made his way to the kitchen, where he could sit down and still see her through the doorway. He kept his eyes glued to her, his leg jiggling and his left hand tapping on his thigh. The urge to press her to him for comfort was painfully strong. Ignoring the urge to comfort was just as painful as it had been with her mother, all those months ago, before he’d ever really held her.

Jamie’s eyes must have glazed over, either with tears or weariness, because when he blinked, Faith was standing right in front of him, still weeping quietly.

“Hi, leannan. What d’ye need?” He restrained himself from touching her. Her hands were laced in Angus’s fur, sitting dutifully beside her. “What d’ye need, Faith? Show me?”

She inhaled slowly with a great tremor, and on the exhale, she put her arms up in front of her with a long, drawn out whimper.

I need a hug.

He heard her, loud and clear.

“Oh, lass…” Jamie’s voice broke, and he practically sprang forward. “Come here…I’ve got ye.” He scooped her into his lap and hugged her tightly, rocking gently. “It’s alright, now. Ye’re alright. I’ve got ye. Dinna fash, now. It’s alright.”

Claire had said that during a meltdown she wouldn’t want to be touched, but that perhaps after, she’d need to be held. Jamie had thought about it, then brushed it off. This was his fault. It was clear she’d blamed him for the mishap. She’d bitten him, swatted at him. She’d take her comfort from Angus until she was calm, and then she’d ask to be fed. That was what he’d thought.

But here she was, clinging to his shirt and sputtering into his neck, wetting his collar.

“I know, mo chridhe, I know…” he soothed. “I’m sorry, leannan. It’s alright. I’m sorry…”

He continued to whisper such platitudes, in both English and Gaelic, rocking her and holding her tightly. He knew how silly his train of thought had been. He’d seen with his own eyes this exact same pattern of kids coming back again and again despite how much it seemed like they hated their parents or guardian. He was always the first to assure a parent that it was never personal, that the child just could not see past their distress and only wanted to swat at whatever was in the way.

But even the thought of Faith resenting him had made him sick, however briefly it came to him. He couldn’t mess this up; god, he just couldn’t.

She burrowed in further, nuzzling her wet cheek against his neck, and then her hands came up to caress his beard stubble. Jamie smiled involuntarily. He knew she liked how that felt. He let her rub her hands and arms all over his cheeks, even shaking his head back and forth so she could feel it across her skin.

And then, after an indeterminable amount of time, she was quiet.

——

Claire [9:22]: Made it here alive. Just in time it would seem. Have a good day. xx

Jamie [9:25]: glad to hear it. stay safe. good luck. xx

Jamie [10:03]: cheerios and a banana for breakfast. made sure she had milk too.

Jamie [10:03]: not in the cereal, mind. I ken she doesn’t like that.

Jamie [10:37]: *photo attachment*

Jamie [10:37]: look at the size of that castle :)

Jamie [11:16]: *photo attachment*

Jamie [11:16]: “snakes. why did it have to be snakes.”

Jamie [11:16]: since i ken you’re too busy to answer, i’m just going to trust that you got that reference.

Jamie [11:17]: don’t panic, they’re made of play-doh. lol.

Jamie [11:56]: *photo attachment*

Jamie [11:56]: the art gallery we’ve created today

Jamie [12:32]: *photo attachment*

Jamie [12:32]: the gang’s all here for movie time. bet ye can’t guess what we’re watching ;)

Jamie [12:32]: got through a bunch of signs cards today btw. she did great. very proud.

Claire [12:46]: Thanks for all the updates. Faith looks so happy in all these. You’re amazing Jamie. Thank you.

Jamie [2:17]: power went out a bit ago. wee meltdown, but she’s alright now. eating soybean butter and jelly. already picked oreos for her treat.

Claire [2:18]: I saw the word meltdown. Do you need me to call? Are you okay? Any blood or bruises?

Jamie [2:19]: everything is fine. angus did a great job. i swear she’s perfectly content now. back to work missy.

Jamie [3:24]: *photo attachment*

Jamie [3:24]: needed to hold the flashlight while she did this so i couldn’t help. shame. i love puzzles. can’t believe how dark it got.

Jamie [3:24]: she’s got the headphones on now. wind is really loud. hope everything is ok by you.

Claire [4:04]: I’ll be able to call at 7:30. If she starts asking for me, tell her that.

Jamie [4:05]: aye aye captain

Jamie [6:02]: dinner promptly at six. spaghetti-os.

Jamie [6:55]: *photo attachment*

Jamie [6:55]: a wee faerie in her den.

——

Jamie tucked his phone back in his pocket after sending the latest message, smiling contentedly. The “faerie den” was a fort of sheets in the living room, tall enough for Jamie to sit up. Draped around the edges above their heads were battery powered string lights that Jamie had picked up a few days ago. He’d also blown up the air mattress that he’d known Claire had (with a battery powered air pump), put on a fitted sheet, and piled it with blankets and pillows from both Faith’s bed and Claire’s bed. Claire had told him to sleep in her bed, so he’d assumed the pillows would be up for grabs to do with as he pleased.

Faith was absolutely enamored with it. The smallness of the space made her feel cozy and safe, and it also made it easy to illuminate, so it was very bright in there in an apartment that was otherwise very dark. The worst of the storm was happening right at that moment, and it was dark as night at six in the evening in August. If Faith hadn���t been wearing her headphones, she’d be inconsolable at the sound of the wind, the occasional crack of a tree, the rattling of the windows. But she was blissfully unaware, petting her dog in her faerie den, tablet at the ready.

After Claire’s phone call, Jamie pulled out his flashlight and led Faith to the bathroom to brush her teeth. On their way there, she tried turning on every light switch they passed, growing increasingly distressed the more she encountered that would not work. When they reached the bathroom, she flipped the switch an uncountable amount of times and then started crying. No matter what Jamie did, she would not allow him to brush her teeth; she just sat on the floor with Angus and cried inconsolably. Jamie brushed his own teeth to the sound of her wailing, and she only got off the floor when Jamie pushed aside one headphone and she heard the words “faerie den” in her ear.

She calmed down very quickly after she was settled back in her bright little safe space. Jamie quickly shot Claire a text that teeth-brushing did not go very well, but that he’d snagged the Risperdal and dropper from the medicine cabinet so he could give it to her without reminding her that the lights weren’t working.

Apparently, she’d be sleeping in the fort tonight. Jamie had anticipated the possibility, which is why he’d included the mattress, blankets, and pillows. The question was whether or not he’d be sleeping in there.

The answer came shortly after when Faith had fallen asleep in his lap at the end of the movie she’d put on for them to watch on her tablet: Brave. Jamie couldn’t hear since she was using her headphones to continue to block out the storm, but he watched it playing, laughing when she did, pointing at the screen and signing to her occasionally. It was a whole new experience, watching her watch it rather than watching it with her. The only audio he got was from Faith herself, humming along to the music. It made his heart ache with love.

They were nestled in a veritable nest of blankets and pillows when Faith fell asleep in his crossed legs, head resting against his heartbeat. For a moment, he told himself he would simply stay in that position all night, that it would be worth it if it brought her a good night’s sleep after the chaos of the day. But then his hip started cramping in the open position, and he remembered he hadn’t given her Risperdal yet. So he had to move. 

Cradling her like a tiny infant, he lifted her off his lap and laid her gently atop a free section of the air mattress. He commanded Angus to lay beside her and left the fort to put on the sleep clothes he’d brought in his duffle bag. Just as he got his shirt off, Faith started whining. He quickly finished dressing and crawled back into the fort.

“I’m here, leannan. I’m right here.”

Right. So he was definitely sleeping in there.

After coaxing her to take the dropper of her medicine, Jamie swiped a pillow off the air mattress. She began whining again.

“Come on, lass. I’m no’ going anywhere. See?” He settled in on his pillow, facing the air mattress and looking up at her. “Go back to sleep.”

She did, and Jamie flicked off three out of the four strings of lights inside the fort before laying down again, getting as comfortable as he could on the floor.

——

Jamie [9:02]: she’s asleep. we watched brave in the fort and she crashed. made sure she had her medicine.

Claire [9:11]:  Of course you watched Brave. That’s the one she associates with you.

Claire [9:11]: I’m in bed now myself. These cots are not nearly as comfortable as my bed. Especially when you’re in it.

Jamie [9:11]: don’t start talking about me being in your bed. not when i can’t do anything about it.

Claire [9:12]: ;)

Claire [9:12]: Really though, I’m about to crash myself. Sleep well, darling. Give Faith a kiss for me.

Jamie [9:12]: what about me?

Claire [9:12]: I think you know exactly what you can give yourself. From me.

Claire [9:12]: ;)

Claire [9:12]: Goodnight, Jamie.

Jamie: [9:12]: goodnight sassenach

Elite (C)

It all happened so fast. The lights, the celebrities, the parties. It seemed like a scene out a film. All of it seeming so surreal, at times I had to pinch myself to prove that I wasn’t dreaming. I had become the object of attention. Flying from country to country, Appearing on talk shows and T.V. shows alike, and being put on the cover of Vogue. It was just intoxicating. I was what girls aspired to be. I was the talk of the time. Every step I took, every breathe I had to take, was now being seen by the entire world. I had now become a part of the select few who would no longer live the average life. I had become a celebrity, an icon, a new member of the Elite.

           I fell for a man of equal status. The son of a wealthy businessman, he had followed in his father’s footsteps, owning businesses far and wide, ranging from Hotel Chains, Apparel lines, and Music Labels. Starting off at the age of 15, he began to invest in local artists in his neighborhood, and thanks to his father, in time, grew to be some of the top charting artists of our era. He then began owning businesses internationally, managing to build his net worth to $20 million by the age of 24. This same man, was the same person who was so embarrassed to ask me to dinner, he had to send a waiter to ask for him. But once we had got to talking, I had realized that this man would steal my heart, and in time, he did. He had understood me completely, and I to him. We grew together in the madness and insanity of this fast paced world and industry.

           Now, 2 years later, just arriving from fashion week in Paris, I pull up to his condo in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Before I get out, I admire the rainfall in the city. The way it slides down the glass window, joining the rest of the earth. A true representation of how no matter how much we build and create in this world, the earth will always show its dominance. “Everything alright, Ms. Lockwood?” I look at the driver as he stares back through the rearview mirror. “I’m doing just fine, thank you for asking”, I say as I open the door. Right when I step outside, I’m bombarded with paparazzi. Flashing lights and photographers huddling around me, their questions seeming like the buzzing sound a swarm of bees make around their hive. The doorman of the building quickly paces towards me with an umbrella and rushes me inside. The photographers surround the door, taking picture after picture. “They’re like maggots in a trash can”, the doorman says as he wipes the water off his coat. I couldn’t stop myself from releasing a small laugh. I go up to him and give him a $20 tip. “It’s the price of fame. It’s the contract we signed with the devil when we entered this world”, I take a quick glance around, “Is Drake here?” He laughs as he puts the bill into his coat pocket, “Yes, Mr. Remy is here. He got in earlier today”.  “Thank you Carter, I sincerely appreciate it”, I say as I walk towards the elevator door. “My pleasure Ms. Lockwood, All in a day’s work, as they say”, he says as he takes his position back at the door. I look at him and smile before I enter the elevator. I click the button to the 45th floor. I try to straighten myself while I wait. The elevator door opens up and I step into his luxurious apartment. The aroma of lavender fills the air. I walk up to the main window overlooking the city and stare at the skyline being covered by rainfall. Clouds cover the sky, leaving the sun nowhere in sight. I can hear his voice drift through one of the rooms. He’s on a business call. I can always tell by the half forced laughs and emasculated tones. Being pushed into this world I grew to understand the language of men with money. I lay my coat on one of the loveseats, and step over to a mirror placed in the middle of his living room. I take a look at my face and try to salvage any damage made by the rain. “A beauty that launched a thousand ships” I turn around to see him staring right at me from a corner of one of the rooms. I let out a small laugh, “I’m hardly anything close to the fairness of Helen of Troy”. His face gives a little smirk.  We both pause and stay in place. We stand still in complete silence, only allowing our eyes to speak for us. He then walks over and brushes a piece of my hair behind my ear, “To think, a woman of such allure and stature stands before me with equal admiration, it’s hard to believe at times”. I scoff at him, “You’d think after 2 years you would start accepting the fact”. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls my body closer to his, “That’s what love can do to a man, creating a type of madness in his mind, fearing that what he’s experiencing could only be that of a dream, having him doubt reality” He then takes my face into his hand, “I love you Camille” he says as he pulls our lips together.

           As I zip my dress back on and put myself back together again, I step go into his living room, only to see him standing in front of the window, waiting for me to be done. His eyes completely fixated on the city. I walk up and stand there with him, staring at the city as well. “It’s so interesting at how much promise is out there, how many opportunities lay before us”, he says, his eyes still glaring towards the skyline. I think for a second and smile, “It’s really beautiful isn’t it? How much every individual is capable of and how much they can achieve”. He turns and looks at me with confusion, making me look at him in the same manner, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, how does the people have anything to do with this?” he says with confusion all over his face. I sit there and question my statement for a second but then shortly respond, “Well I was assuming you meant the opportunities that each and every individual has in this world.” He looks at me bewilderment and laughs afterwards, “That’s not what I meant at all. The people don’t matter, they’re just puppets and pawns awaiting our next move.” I take a step back as I take moment to understand what he said. “What do you mean by Our next move? Who are you referring too?” He takes a step towards me and tries to grab my arm, “I mean us. The people who have the ability to make change. The few individuals who have influence and power over what people think and say. What they buy, what they do, and how they do it is all influenced by us. We’re the ones who get to decide how they live their lives.” I move away before he can touch me. I stand still in disbelief at what he had just said. He senses my shock and grabs me, pulls me over to his couch and sits me down. “Camille, you can’t pretend that this hasn’t crossed your mind before. You yourself is a living example of this. Everything you do and say is all monitored by the entire world. You can dictate if people should wear yellow or blue. You have the power to influence millions. People want to be you. They want to follow your example. You cannot sit there and tell me that the mere thought has not crossed your mind”. I sit there and take a moment to process everything he’s saying. I have thought about it. Multiple times. Sometimes it overwhelms at how much responsibility I have and how much I have to live up too. There are nights I sit in fear at what I might do and how it may affect all of those who watch me with complete admiration and devotion. I look to him and see his eyes pouring into mine. I stand up and walk towards the window, staring towards the landscape of the city. Sitting there in silence, his eyes still on me, I turn around with my arms crossed together, “You’re right, I have thought about it. Many times.” He smiles wide, stands up, and paces towards me but I hold a hand out keeping him in his place, “What I don’t grasp is how you view the people who we have influence over. How you can view them as puppets and pawns. Does their existence only serve one purpose? Are we not the same flesh and bone as they are?” He looks at me with the same confusion as he did before and stares at me blankly, “Do you honestly think that we are the same as the people below us? People like Carter who remain in their mundane lives, forever in their same routine? Camille, we’re nothing like them. Yes we are of same flesh and bone but we are not like them in any way. We create the world around us.” I stand there in silence, just looking at him as he goes on, “For instance, I just got off the phone with one of the managers of my apparel line. We’re going to start a new trend where people start using the phrase ‘grippin’. We’re going to put it on T- shirts, Hats, even Jewelry. I’ve even started conversations with artists who said they’ll feature the phrase in their songs. All of that because I wanted too. Don’t you understand how powerful that is?” He starts to laugh with this new look in his eye. A look I’ve never seen before. I still stand in silence as he starts to calm down. He realizes my reserved composure, takes my face into his hand and motions my eyes into his, “Camille, I want you to know of what I, or should I say, what We are capable of. I want you by my side throughout all of this. I’ve even considered going into politics in the near future, and if I do, I want you, my Beautiful Penelope, to be there right by my side.” Before he can go on, a phone starts to ring, he reaches into his pocket and realizes who’s calling, “Camille, I have to take this, it’s a very important business call, but I want you to know that I love you. I need you to trust me, there’s nowhere but up for us.” He grabs me in his arms, looks at me with his eyes, and kisses me on the forehead. He then walks away into one of the rooms.

           I have always feared of what man is capable of. Seeing the history of our humanity and what we have been able to do with just a simple idea and the power to do it. I’ve even questioned my own power and have been afraid of what I may do with it. I stare out towards the skyline and watch the rain cover everything, gloom covering the sky. I can hear the beginnings of thunder in the distance. I hear him laugh in one of the rooms and slowly walk towards the doorway of the room he’s in. I stand by the corner and just watch him as he carries on with his business. This man is capable of change. He has the will and power to do it. I saw the look in his eye when he told me. I could see the person he would become. Yet, why was I scared? This man who had stole my heart. Who had allowed me to feel safe and warm. I kept staring at him thinking at what potential truly he was capable of. At what he may do, and how it might affect the rest of the world, for better or for worse.

Circa 2015.

All Rights Reserved.

A few days ago, I posted a link to a story about this report from Australia about the consequences of climate change in the year 2050. But this story from USA Today goes a little further, and gives us a glimpse of what 2050 will look like it we ignore greenhouse gas emissions and climate change until it’s too late. Here’s the scenario in 2050, as an excerpt from the article:

In the years leading up to 2050, policy makers fail to cut greenhouse gas emissions. The case for the global climate-emergency mobilization necessary to keep temperatures from rising is "politely ignored." Global greenhouse gas emissions peak in 2030 and begin to fall due to a drop in fossil fuel use, but damage has been done and warming reaches 3 degrees Celsius.

By 2050, sea levels have risen 1.6 feet and are projected to increase by as much as 10 feet by 2100.

Globally, 55% of the population lives in areas subject to more than 20 days of lethal heat a year, beyond the human threshold of survivability.

North America suffers from devastating weather extremes, including wildfires, heatwaves, droughts and flooding. China's summer monsoons fail and water in Asia's great rivers are severely reduced from the loss of more than one-third of the Himalayan ice sheet.

Within 30 years from today, ecosystems in coral reefs and the Amazon rainforest collapse, affecting fishing yields and rainfalls.

Deadly heat conditions turn many areas unlivable, resulting in more than a billion people being displaced in West Africa, tropical South America, the Middle East and South-East Asia.

Two billion people globally are affected by lack of water. Food production falls by one-fifth as droughts, heat waves, flooding and storms affect crops.

Rising ocean levels make some of the world's most populous cities uninhabitable, including Mumbai, Jakarta, Canton, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Lagos, Bangkok and Manila. Billions of people must be relocated.

This leads to fights over land, resources and water and potentially to war and occupations.

‘Bleak’ U.N. Report Finds World Heading to Climate Catastrophes https://www.nytimes.com/2019/11/26/climate/greenhouse-gas-emissions-carbon.html

Bleak’ U.N. Report Finds World Heading to Climate Catastrophes

By Somini Sengupta | Published Nov. 26, 2019, 3:00 AM ET | New York Times | Posted November 26, 2019 |

Four years after countries struck a landmark deal in Paris to rein in greenhouse gas emissions in an effort to avert the worst effects of global warming, humanity is headed toward those very climate catastrophes, according to a United Nations report issued Tuesday, with China and the United States, the two biggest polluters, having expanded their carbon footprints last year.

“The summary findings are bleak,” the report said, because countries have failed to halt the rise of greenhouse gas emissions even after repeated warnings from scientists. The result, the authors added, is that “deeper and faster cuts are now required.”

The world’s 20 richest countries, responsible for more than three-fourths of emissions, must take the biggest, swiftest steps to move away from fossil fuels, the report emphasized. The richest country of all, the United States, however, has formally begun to pull out of the Paris accord altogether.

Global greenhouse gas emissions have grown by 1.5 percent every year over the last decade, according to the annual assessment, the Emissions Gap Report, which is produced by the United Nations Environment Program. The opposite must happen if the world is to avoid the worst effects of climate change, including more intense droughts, stronger storms and widespread food insecurity by midcentury. To stay within relatively safe limits, emissions must decline sharply, by 7.6 percent every year, between 2020 and 2030, the report warned.

Separately, the World Meteorological Organization reported on Monday that emissions of three major greenhouse gases — carbon dioxide, methane and nitrous oxide — have all swelled in the atmosphere since the mid-18th century.

Under the Paris Agreement, reached in November, 2015, every country has pledged to rein in emissions, with each setting its own targets and timetables. Even if every country fulfills its current pledges — and many, including the United States, Brazil and Australia, are currently not on track to do so — the Emissions Gap Report found average temperatures are on track to rise by 3.2 degrees Celsius from the baseline average temperature at the start of the industrial age.

For more climate news sign up for the Climate Fwd: newsletter or follow @NYTClimate on Twitter.

According to scientific models, that kind of temperature rise sharply increases the likelihood of extreme weather events, the accelerated melting of glaciers and swelling seas — all endangering the lives of billions of people.

The Paris Agreement resolved to hold the increase in global temperatures well below 2 degrees Celsius, or 3.6 degrees Fahrenheit; last year, a United Nations-backed panel of scientists said the safer limit was to keep it to 1.5 degrees Celsius.

There are many ways to reduce emissions: quitting the combustion of fossil fuels, especially coal, the world’s dirtiest fossil fuel; switching to renewable energy like solar and wind power; moving away from gas- and diesel-guzzling cars; and halting deforestation.

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India’s Ominous Future: Too Little Water, or Far Too Much

By Bryan Denton and Somini Sengupta | Published Nov. 25, 2019 | New York Times | Posted November 26, 2019 |

Decades of short-sighted government policies are leaving millions defenseless in the age of climate disruptions – especially the country’s poor.

THE MONSOON IS CENTRAL TO INDIAN LIFE AND LORE. It turns up in ancient Sanskrit poetry and in Bollywood films. It shapes the fortunes of millions of farmers who rely on the rains to nourish their fields. It governs what you eat. It even has its own music.

Climate change is now messing with the monsoon, making seasonal rains more intense and less predictable. Worse, decades of short-sighted government policies are leaving millions of Indians defenseless in the age of climate disruptions – especially the poor.

After years of drought, a struggling farmer named Fakir Mohammed stares at a field of corn ruined by pests and unseasonably late rains. Rajeshree Chavan, a seamstress in Mumbai, has to sweep the sludge out of her flooded ground floor apartment not once, but twice during this year’s exceptionally fierce monsoon. The lakes that once held the rains in the bursting city of Bangalore are clogged with plastic and sewage. Groundwater is drawn faster than nature can replenish it.

Water being water, people settle for what they can find. In a parched village on the eastern plains, they gather around a shallow, fetid stream because that’s all there is. In Delhi, they worship in a river they hold sacred, even when it’s covered in toxic foam from industrial runoff. In Chennai, where kitchen taps have been dry for months, women sprint downstairs with neon plastic pots under their arms when they hear a water truck screech to a halt on their block.

The rains are more erratic today. There’s no telling when they might start, nor how late they might stay. This year, India experienced its wettest September in a century; more than 1,600 people were killed by floods; and even by the time traditional harvest festivals rolled around in October, parts of the country remained inundated.

Even more troubling, extreme rainfall is more common and more extreme. Over the last century, the number of days with very heavy rains has increased, with longer dry spells stretching out in between. Less common are the sure and steady rains that can reliably penetrate the soil. This is ruinous for a country that gets the vast share of its water from the clouds.

The problem is especially acute across the largely poor central Indian belt that stretches from western Maharashtra State to the Bay of Bengal in the east: Over the last 70 years, extreme rainfall events have increased threefold in the region, according to a recent scientific paper, while total annual rainfall has measurably declined.

“Global warming has destroyed the concept of the monsoon,” said Raghu Murtugudde, an atmospheric scientist at the University of Maryland and an author of the paper. “We have to throw away the prose and poetry written over millennia and start writing new ones!”

India’s insurance policy against droughts, the Himalayas, is at risk, too. The majestic mountains are projected to lose a third of their ice by the end of the century if greenhouse gas emissions continue to rise at their current pace.

But, as scientists are quick to point out, climate change isn’t the only culprit to blame for India’s water woes. Decades of greed and mismanagement are far more culpable. The lush forests that help to hold the rains continue to be cleared. Developers are given the green light to pave over creeks and lakes. Government subsidies encourage the over-extraction of groundwater.

The future is ominous for India’s 1.3 billion people. By 2050, the World Bank estimates, erratic rainfall, combined with rising temperatures, stand to “depress the living standards of nearly half the country’s population.”

THE MARATHWADA REGION, stretching out across western India, is known for its cruel, hot summers. Hardly any rivers cut through it, which means that Marathwada’s people rely almost entirely on the monsoon to fill the wells and seep into the black cotton soil.

Marathwada is also an object lesson in how government decisions that have nothing to do with climate change can have profoundly painful consequences in the era of climate change.

In October, just weeks before the traditional harvest season, Fakir Mohammed led me through his family’s one-and-a-half-acre plot of land. A neem tree stood in the middle of the fields. Lie under it, Mr. Mohammed said with pride, and you’ll never get sick.

The same could not be said of his land.

The rains had been deficient for most of the last nine years. This year, they came late, and when they came, the thirsty ground drank everything.

Then, an infestation of fall armyworm attacked Mr. Mohammed’s corn. The millet was ravaged by a fly. The cotton had flowered, but Mr. Mohammed could tell it would be a paltry harvest. “We worked very hard,” he said. “But we’ll get nothing out of this.”

Worse, the rains this year did nothing to solve the community’s drinking water shortage. Even at the end of the monsoon, Mr. Mohammed’s well was dry. A dam nearby, built to supply drinking water to his village and nearly 20 others, had turned to scrubland, fit only for a few skinny cows to graze.

Water is so precious that the women of his family said they drank half a cup if they wanted a whole one. They went without a daily shower so their children could go to school clean and fresh. When their nerves were frayed, they smacked a child who spilled a cup by accident.

Every day, four government trucks came down the muddy lane to fill the village water tank, which met a fraction of what the village needs. Most people bought drinking water from far away.

Mr. Mohammed was grateful for whatever the clouds had to give this year, but he was also anxious. “There’s no water to drink, but at least it’s good for the fields,” he said. “I’m scared in my heart. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future.”

Mr. Mohammed, who says he is around 60, is not wrong to worry. Since 1950, annual rainfall has declined by 15 percent across Marathwada, according to an analysis by Roxy Mathew Koll, a monsoon specialist at the Indian Institute of Tropical Meteorology. In that same period, cloudbursts have shot up threefold.

But here’s what’s shocking. Also during that same period, Marathwada, along with the rest of India, has seen a boom in the production of one of thirstiest crops on earth: sugar cane.

Down the road from Mr. Mohammed’s village, on land that gets water from an upstream dam, farmers had planted acres and acres with sugar cane. Why? Because sugar mills had sprung up across the state, some owned by politicians and their friends. They were ready to pay handsomely for cane.

Bizarrely, the taxpayers of India, one of the most water-stressed countries in the world, have aided sugar producers handsomely. The government subsidizes electricity, encouraging farmers to pump groundwater for their sugarcane fields, as well as fertilizers, which are used in vast quantities for sugar. State-owned banks offer cheap loans, which are sometimes written off, especially when politicians are courting farmers’ votes. This year, the government has approved nearly $880 million in export subsidies for sugar mills.

With all those perks, sugar cane production has grown faster than any other crop since independence from British rule in 1947, making India the world’s biggest sugar producer, according to an analysis by Ramanan Laxminarayan, a researcher at the Princeton Environmental Institute. Three-fourths of irrigated sugar cane production takes place in areas under “extremely high water stress,” the World Resources Institute found.

In October, just before the Hindu festival to mark the harvest, another Marathwada farmer named Ashok Pawar sent me pictures of ruin: Freakish rains had washed away his soy and mung beans. No one in his village had seen anything like it so late in the season.

THE IMAGE of the pot-bellied Hindu god, Ganesha, that hangs above Savita Vilas Kasurde’s narrow doorway is intended to keep obstacles away from her family’s path.

The same cannot be said for the Mithi River, which flows a few steps from Ms. Kasurde’s door. Its path has been blocked every which way as it winds through this city of 13 million people.

Mumbai’s international airport straddles the Mithi; you can see the planes taking off from Ms. Kasurde’s street. Sewage and rubbish pour into the Mithi. A vast spread of high-rises have been built on land reclaimed from the Mithi, along with higgledy-piggledy working class enclaves like this one, perched precariously on its edge. They are the ones that flood first and flood worst after a heavy rain. The city’s other natural defense against floods, mangrove trees, have been pulled out to make room for concrete.

Ms. Kasurde is a seasoned veteran. When the water rises, she hauls her fridge on top of the highest table, unplugs the television, wraps her children’s school books in plastic. When the water is up to her knees, she takes it all upstairs to the second floor bedroom. The power goes out when it rains hard. Going to the shared neighborhood toilet means wading through fetid waters. “We just sit in the dark,” said Ms. Kasurde.

Mumbai got more rain this year than it had in 65 years, and several times this season, it came in exceptionally heavy downpours. The drains overflowed. The lanes filled with muck. Commuter trains were disrupted. Flights were diverted. Several times in Mrs. Kasurde’s neighborhood, schools turned to storm shelters. Those without an upstairs room sloshed through the water to get there.

After each flood, as the waters began to recede, they returned to cover their noses and sweep the water and sludge out of their homes. Mosquitoes can breed in the puddles of dirty water. A dengue outbreak was the last thing they needed.

This is what worried Rajeshree Chavan nearby when I saw her in the middle of the monsoon. She had managed to save her sewing machine, the source of her livelihood, twice this year when her ground floor room flooded. She had to throw away a sack of rice and her kids’ clothes.

It infuriated her that politicians came through only when they were trolling for votes. Even the state’s top politician was here earlier in the year, she said. He wanted the neighborhood’s support for the governing Bharatiya Janata Party, she recalled. He promised new houses for people on higher ground, in the northern suburbs of the city. He left after giving symbolic plastic keys to five families.

Bryan Denton, a photographer based in India, and Somini Sengupta, the Times’s global climate reporter, visited cities and villages around India to see how climate change and misguided policies are upending the country’s relationship to a precious resource.

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Jashi Week-Day 4-Rain

The Force Between Us

Summary: Jack and Ashi comfort each other in the midst of a powerful Nor’easter. Modern AU.

“Many cities and counties across the East Coast remain in a state of emergency and under tornado watch as Perfect Storm Ikra moves across the area in an estimated three to four day period. High hurricane force winds with gusts reaching up to eighty miles per hour and rainfall totaling up to ten inches, as well as a flood warning issued for people on and near the outer bank region. If you plan on riding out this storm in your home, be sure to stock up on water, non-perishable food, batteries, flashlight, first aid kit, and a back-up generator. Move away from windows and watch for flying debris. More news at eight.”

Jack and Ashi watched this on the Weather Channel as they sat downstairs in the living room huddled together. The rain had started in the afternoon, but it hadn’t gotten heavy until two hours ago. Seeing that this storm had planned to last for over a three to four day period, Jack and Ashi knew they were in a rough ride. Jack had suggested that she and Ashi get the sleeping bags and extra blankets from their closet upstairs and bring whatever else they needed downstairs. Jack didn’t want him and her to be in the upstairs bedroom in case the wind took the roof off or something. They placed their phones on the charger because they knew the storm could knock out the power any second now and they wanted to get as much battery power as they could.

“If the power goes out, what do we do? We have everything BUT a back-up generator,” said Ashi in a concerned tone.

“We’ll just have to make do with flashlights,” said Jack. “I have that LED lamp I got from Lowes not too long ago, and we also have those little fake light up Christmas candles my mom gave us.”

“That’s true,” said Ashi. And she was also thinking about food. “What about the stove?”

“Well, we have the lighter,” said Jack. “If the gas still works all we have to do it light the gas with the lighter and we can heat up some food, like a can of beans and frank or something.”

“And, we have bottles of water,” said Ashi. “We have also have-”

Before Ashi could finish her sentence, the power went out and the house went dark. There was silence as they sat frozen for a seconds, nothing but the sound of the rain and wind beating against the window sharply.

“Welp,” said Jack. “There goes that.

Ashi sighed. The power was out, and there was no telling when it would come back on.

Jack let out a little chuckle and rubbed her back. “I’ll get the lamp and flashlights.”

Ashi removed her and Jack’s phones from the charger. There was no point in keeping it on now. Jack brought in the flashlight and lamp, and he put in the batteries. A bright light filled the house as they came on.

“Well, they work,” said Jack. “And wonderfully too.”

“So, what now?” asked Ashi, taking the flashlight.

“We haven’t much of a choice now but to wait it out,” said Jack.

Suddenly, a crashing noise came from the backyard. Jack’s eyes went wide.

“Oh crap, I forgot to bring the lawn chairs inside! That’s what I forgot!” cried Jack. He jumped up, put on some rain boots and a hooded jacket, and went to go outside.

“Be careful, honey,” said Ashi.

Outside, Jack was greeted with the strong push of the wind against him. It felt like invisible hands were fighting against him, as he pressed forward through the muddy backyard and cold rain, towards the tumbled over lawn chairs that had made their way toward the fence. Jack leaned down and picked up each heavy chair and folded them over, then he tried to pick up both in his arms at the same time. Ashi was watching him from the window. She didn’t think what Jack was doing was a good idea. Why didn’t he carry one at a time? Ashi went over to the back door and cracked it open.

“Jack!” She yelled out into the storm. “Just carry it in one at a time!”

Jack could barely hear her as he creeped toward the door Ashi had cracked open. Suddenly, a strong wind yanked the screen door from Ashi’s hand, and the frame swung backwards and hit Jack right square in the middle of his forehead.

“Jack!” Ashi cried as Jack dropped the chairs in surprise and his hand went to his forehead. Ashi grabbed Jack as Jack sucked his teeth in pain. Jack removed his hand and a trail of blood snaked down his forehead. Forgetting about the lawn chairs, Ashi helped Jack inside the house, and led him into the bathroom.

“Well, that happened,” said Jack.

“The wind just snatched the door out of my hand,” said Ashi. “I’m sorry.”

“Baby it’s okay,” said Jack. “It’s not your fault.”

Ashi used to flashlight to help locate the first aid kit. She pulled it out, and then took out some gauze, some alcohol wipes and ointment, and a large band-aid. Ashi used a piece of gaze to carefully wipe away the blood on Jack’s forehead that was dripping down his face. Ashi then opened an alcohol wipe and began cleaning Jack’s wound. Jack flinched in pain.

“I know it hurts baby but I have to make sure there are no germs inside,” said Ashi.

Jack smiled lightly at her. Next, after washing her hands, Ashi used the ointment and applied some on the tip of her finger and spread it evenly across Jack’s wound. Lastly, she placed the large band aid over top. She gave a small kiss on his forehead over the band-aid. Jack chuckled lightly.

“I hope no more injuries happen during the rest of the course of this storm,” said Ashi.

“Me neither,” said Jack. “So, who’s hungry?”

Ashi searched through the pantry for something quick to fix up for her and Jack to eat. She pulled out a box of Kraft Mac n’ Cheese, and Spaghetti O’s.

“Which one do you want?” asked Ashi, holding them up before Jack.

“Eh, Spaghetti O’s is fine for me,” said Jack.

So Ashi lit the burner with the lighter after she cut the gas on and then poured the food out of the jumbo sized can and stirred it around so it would heat up evenly.

“Looks like we might have to throw some of our food and dairy products out, such as the milk, and the cheese,” said Ashi as she opened the fridge and took out a carton of mango juice for her and Jack to drink.

“Yeah,” said Jack. “It’s always frustrating when the power goes out. That’s why it’s best to keep the fridge closed as long as possible during times like these.”

After Jack and Ashi ate, they washed the dishes in some heated up stove water, and then Ashi made a phone call to her parents using the main landline house phone. Luckily, it was still working, and she wanted to save as much cell phone battery as possible.

“Are you guys okay?” asked Ashi.

“Yeah, we’re alright, our powers out too, but we have a back up generator,” said Ashi’s mother.

“You do? Oh, well, Jack and I could pack our bags and come stay with you,” said Ashi.

“Not in this storm,” said Ashi’s mother firmly. “It’s very dangerous to walk outside, let alone drive in it, so, it’s best for you to stay where you are at, and if your power hasn’t come back on by the time the storm’s over or so, then you can come over.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” said Ashi. “I hope our power comes back on soon.”

“Me too sweetie, I hope you and Jack are alright.” said Ashi’s mother.

“Well...” began Ashi.

“What? What happened?” asked Ashi’s mother frantically.

“ Jack was trying to bring all the lawn chairs inside the house all at once and I was holding the door open when the wind came in a strong gust and pulled the door from my hand, and hit Jack on the forehead,” said Ashi.

“Oh no! Oh dear! Is he alright?” asked Ashi’s mother.

“He’s fine,” said Ashi. “Just a small cut with some bleeding. I cleaned it, put ointment on it, then bandaged it, and we carried on fine and had some dinner.”

“I’m glad he’s alright,” said Ashi’s mother. “And you too.”

“Thank you,” said Ashi.

Ashi stayed on the phone a little while with her mother, then she talked to her father, and then she called her sisters, they were all camped over at Avi’s house, who lived closest inland, and she had power too. Jack called his parents to check on them, and they were alright as well.

“I swear, everyone has power except us!” cried Ashi.

“It seems that way, but there’s plenty of other people who don’t,” said Jack. “We just have to ride out the storm.”

Ashi snuggled into Jack’s arms. “And I’m here with you.”

Day 2

The rain and wind was still going strong when Jack and Ashi woke up the next morning. Ashi arose from her sleeping bag and went to go look outside. It looked like a little river was flowing down their street as the rain continued to pitter patter on and on. It made her think of the movie Spirited Away, when it had rained so much that the bath house was surrounded by water. Ashi left the window and wandered back into the kitchen. What to eat for breakfast? She opened the dark fridge and felt that the milk was still slightly cold, but she knew it wouldn’t be for long. As she made herself a bowl of Frosted Flakes, Jack came in and gave her a kiss.

“Well, one thing I can say about a rainstorm, it sure makes you sleep like a baby,” said Jack.

“Yes,” said Ashi.

After eating, Jack and Ashi sat on the couch. 

“So, what now?” asked Ashi.

“I guess we could play a game or something,” asked Jack.

“A game like what?” asked Ashi.

“How about a classic match of Eye Spy?” asked Jack.

“Oh come on, really? Eye Spy?” said Ashi.

“Yes, I mean it,” said Jack. “Sometimes reminiscing with old childhood games are fun.”

Ashi sighed. What did she have to lose? If she was going to be stuck inside the house for the next two days or so without going nuts, she might as well do something

“Eye Spy, with my little eye, something red,” said Jack.

“The Flowers on the table?” asked Ashi.

“Nope,”

“My slippers by the stairwell?”

“Nope,”

“ This red pen?”

“Your lips,” said Jack with a smile.

Ashi blushed slightly, and then gave Jack a kiss.

“My turn,” said Ashi, sitting cross-legged on the couch. “Eye spy, with my little eye, something tan colored.”

“This couch we’re sitting on?” asked Jack.

“Nope,” said Ashi.

“The picture frame on the wall?”

“Nope,”

“I don’t know, this napkin on the coffee table,” said Jack giving up.

“The band-aid on your forehead,” said Ashi with a giggle.

“Oh really, come on,” said Jack, playfully. “Don’t make fun of me.”

After they finished Eye Spy, Jack asked Ashi what she wanted to do next.

“We have some board games in the closet for when family and guests come over,” said Ashi.

“Let’s take a look at that,” said Jack.

Jack and Ashi searched through all the games they had.

“Let’s play Would You Rather,” said Ashi.

“Sounds good to me,” said Jack.

They played Would You Rather and other games until noon, and then Ashi made them lunch. They got the bread, peanut butter, and grape jelly out of the pantry and made PB and J’s.

“Man, I wish we could watch TV or something,” said Jack. “But we don’t have a back-up generator.”

“Yeah, it’s all your fault,” said Ashi playfully, with a smirk on her face toward Jack. “Well, think of it like this. Little house on the prairie days there was nothing but the outdoors, books, parties, gatherings, and plays for entertainment.”

“Sure was,” said Ashi.

But after another hour of not much to do, Jack and Ashi cracked and whipped out their phones and started playing games that they downloaded. By the time they finished they both had near low batteries.

“I’m on thirty percent, how about you?” asked Ashi.

“Mine is on nineteen percent,” said Jack. “Looks like your phone lasts longer than mine.”

“Well, not much more we can do,” said Ashi. “Once our batteries are dead they will stay dead until the power comes back on. The best thing we can do now is switch to battery save mode and save what little energy we have left.”

So Jack and Ashi did just that. At around nine PM, they decided to call it quits and go to bed. They rolled out their sleeping bags and pillows again and crawled into them. The rain and wind had settled down for the time being, but was slowly picking back up again.

“I miss our bed,” said Ashi quietly.

“I know honey, me too,” said Jack. “But soon the storm will be over and we’ll have power again soon as well.”

Jack reached over and grabbed Ashi’s hand, and they both fell asleep like that, hand in hand.

Day 3

The third day was not much different, except that there seemed to be more rain than wind.

“The weatherman said that storm could be clearing out as early as tonight,” said Jack. “So let’s say our prayers.”

They ate a granola bar and had some mango juice to drink for breakfast, then sat back on the couch. Ashi read a book, and so did Jack. Some time after, Jack removed the band-aid to peer at his injury. It looked it was healing nicely already, and he applied some more ointment to it, and then let it be. He wanted the wound to have a chance to breathe.

“Want to watch movies on my laptop?” asked Ashi. She had been saving the battery energy on that as well, but now she was feeling fed up, and needed something more to do. So did Jack.

They watched movies on Ashi’s laptop until the battery was near dead. They had the rest of the Spaghetti O’s jar for lunch, and then played another round of Eye Spy and Would You Rather.

“Tell me a story Jack,” said Ashi as she laid her head on Jack’s chest. “Any story.”

Jack held her close and told her funny stories about things he did as a child that he thought he wouldn’t get busted for but his parents found out. Around 6PM, the rain and wind began to die down completely! Jack and Ashi were excited. Perhaps soon the power would come back on.

“I bet your sisters are probably living it up right now,” said Jack.

Ashi sighed. She could only imagine what fun they were having.

“I want to go over there, or to your parents house or mine,” said Ashi as she peered out the window. “But we try to drive out there now, water will surely get under the hood of the car and mess up the engine, then we’d have a dead car.”

“I don’t think we got ten inches,” said Jack. “But we’ve got plenty, that’s for sure.”

“I can only imagine those living the closest to the beach and on it must be suffering the worst,” said Ashi.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if they had most people on that side evacuate,” said Jack.

There was ringing from the phone in the kitchen and Jack answered it. It was his mother.

“Hey, the storm is dying down early. How are you and Ashi holding up?” his mother asked.

“We’re losing our marbles,” said Jack honestly. “But I guess you can say we’re hanging in there.”

“Yeah. I would ask you two if you could come over here where’s there power and hot water but trying to drive your vehicle through all that flood water probably isn’t the smartest choice, and there’s objects and other debris in the water as well,” said Jack’s mother.

“What else has the news channel been saying?” asked Jack.

“So far, in the past two days since, there’s been over 50 confirmed injuries, and two people have died. Over 5,000 people are without power and over 37 people had to be rescued from their cars from the flood waters,” said Jack’s mother sadly.

“Jesus,” said Jack in a concerned tone. “This storm has been no joke. I hope nothing else happens.”

“Me too,” said Jack.

Day 4

The night was mostly light wind and rain, but in the morning all was silent. Could it be? Ashi thought. Was the storm truly coming to an end? Would they be seeing the light of day soon? Ashi looked out the window once more and to her wonderful surprise, a bit of sunshine was peeking through the gray clouds. The storm was coming to an end! However, flood water was everywhere. All down the street, throughout the whole neighborhood was flood. Ashi chatted with a fellow neighbor from across the street from afar and they said it would probably be a few more days before the water receded. That afternoon, Jack and Ashi were yet again playing another round of would you rather, when the power came back on. They cheered and hugged and kissed in happiness, and both celebrated by taking a shower, with hot water. It felt refreshing to have the AC running, the fridge working, even though they had to throw the milk, cheese, and frozen meats out, and the TV on. A helicopter passed over their neighborhood, recording damage to show live on the news channel. 

After another three days of being stuck inside the house, but with electricity, Jack and Ashi went to the store to get groceries for the house. It felt refreshing to bring home food and other supplies from the store, and fill up your fridge and pantry. Jack and Ashi knew, they were lucky. The following day, Jack’s parents, and Ashi’s parents, along with Ashi’s sisters came over to their house, and they all celebrated with lasagna for dinner. That night, after the festives were over, Jack and Ashi lay in their bed, thinking.

“I’m so glad we survived the storm,” said Ashi.

“Me too,” said Jack. “Nothing can stop us, huh?”

“Nope,” said Ashi. “Nothing. However, come this winter, I’m really gonna need you to have that back-up generator.”

“Hm, you gonna bug me about it until I do?” asked Jack.

“Oh yes, and then some,” said Ashi. “Goodnight honey.”

Jack laughed. “Goodnight Ashi, I love you,”

“I love you too,” said Ashi.

As if things couldn’t get coincidental enough, I was driving home from work early yesterday evening around 7PM, and I got an EAS alert on my phone telling me there was a tornado warning in my area. I wanted to get home as fast as I could, so I started driving carefully through the pouring couldn’t barely see rain. As I neared closer to my house, the sky turned a greenish-gray color and I heard windy roar that sounded like a train. I knew in an instant that it was the tornado near me!!! I didn’t know whether to stop and pull over or keep driving! Luckily, I made it home and took shelter in the downstairs bathroom of my house until the warning stopped. The tornado happened about only a mile or so from where I was driving coming home, maybe even less. That’s why I could hear that awful roar. Well, as you can see, I’m home safe, my parents are home safe, and everything’s alright, except for where the tornado hit. With that being said, here’s a tip for any of my fellow Jashians reading this; if you see a dark greenish-grayish color cast to the clouds in the sky, rotating, spinning clouds, and wind that sounds like a train horn, it’s VERY possible it could be a tornado close by. So, take shelter in a windowless area! As always, see you in the next prompt!

-Makayla <3

A Shifting Climate Gave Humans Many Opportunities to Leave Africa

A new paleoclimate model finds many favorable windows when Homo sapiens might have survived a migration out of Africa.

— August 24, 2021 | Granthshala

— By Sabrina Imbler

Until recently, scientists believed that modern humans left Africa in a massive migration around 60,000 years ago. But a new climate model suggests that modern humans had many windows of opportunity to leave the continent long ago.

The research, published Tuesday in the journal nature communication, reconstructed the climate of Northeast Africa over the past 300,000 years. The scientists identified that there must have been enough rainfall to allow a group of predators to survive on their journey to the Arabian Peninsula.

Archaeological and genetic data still support the idea that all non-African peoples descended from a single migration that left the continent between 50,000 and 80,000 years ago. But the paper corroborates the theory that Homo sapiens had multiple migrations from Africa.

Even though different groups may have managed to leave the continent, each of them may not have played a major role in populating the world. An old constellation of fossils, some of which have resisted dating, uncovers some of the false beginnings of Homo sapiens: part of the middle finger 85,000 years ago, found in Arabia; at least one human jaw bone 177,000 years ago, found in Israel; possibly a skull 210,000 years ago, is found in Greece.

It is inviting to extrapolate the times and routes of these early voyages from these archaeological records. But the fossils provide “limited, rather differential lines of evidence” of possible migration, said Andrea Manica, an evolutionary ecologist at the University of Cambridge and an author on the paper. Dr. Manika believes that an ecological model can tackle the question from a new angle: First predict what will be possible, then see if the fossils line up.

Rick Potts, a paleontologist who directs the Human Origins Program at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History, said, “It’s an intriguing question to ask whether there were environmental limits to those earlier dispersals, even if those dispersals were limited or short-lived. ” History.

“The paper captures the important thing,” said Dr. Potts, who was not involved in the research. “Before the main there were many examples of the dispersal of our species beyond Africa.”

Jessica Tierney, a paleontologist at the University of Arizona who was not involved in the research, said she found the approach interesting but inconclusive. “Ultimately this is a model, not geology or archaeology,” said Dr. Tierney. “The mystery remains until you have better and more Palaeolithic records.”

A researcher at the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research in Germany, Dr. Manika and Robert Baer first formulated their ecological approach in 2018. Scientists had already prepared a model of the climate. 125,000 years, but Dr. Manika and Dr. Beyer wanted to date the earliest anatomically modern human fossils, which were found in Morocco and are estimated to be at least 300,000 years old.

“That’s the moment you see that our species really exists,” Dr Manika said. Mario Crapp, a research fellow at Antarctica New Zealand and an author on the paper, developed an emulator for existing climate models to delve deeper in time.

To estimate when Homo sapiens could possibly have moved through northeastern Africa and the Arabian Peninsula, researchers needed to find the absolute minimum conditions in which humans could survive. “We wanted to build this list of good times and bad times,” said Dr. Manika.

They looked at distribution maps of present-day predators and found that human populations are generally not recorded in areas where rainfall is less than 3.5 inches per year. This little rainfall is not enough to maintain the green patches of rain, grass and shrubs that fed the grazing animals on which early humans may have relied.

Once the researchers set the survival limit at 3.5 inches, they scaled their climate reconstruction to see how sweet the conditions might be for Eurasia to travel through two possible routes: the Sinai Peninsula in the north and Further south, the Strait of the Bab- al-Mandeb, which separates the Horn of Africa from contemporary Yemen.

His model revealed a handful of historical windows during which there was enough rainfall and relatively low sea levels to sustain human migration out of Africa. The Sinai land bridge was traversable several times before 246,000 years ago, and the southern strait had even more favorable windows, including a period 65,000 years ago.

The sheer number of crossing opportunities took Dr. Manika by surprise, providing strong evidence that only a recent mass exodus had united the world with Homo sapiens. “I was hoping, perhaps naively, to be the perfect period where everything was perfect,” Dr. Manika said. “But earlier also everything was fine. At times, for a matter of fact. “

So the question still stands: if some Homo sapiens were able to colonize Eurasia long ago, why weren’t they successful?

Researchers have a few theories. If early humans had migrated out of Africa long ago, they would have faced stiff competition from other early human species; The north was a Neanderthal stronghold, and much of East Asia was probably populated by another extinct human lineage, the Denisovans. Models also suggest that dry periods often followed favorable windows, which could have isolated any populations that had migrated. But the authors also note that even though the times were nice and wet, humans may not have taken advantage of these periods to get outside.

The model had to make several assumptions, including that the Southern Strait could always have been crossed by humans and that those people may have had boat technology to make the crossing. The model breaks the geography of the area into grids with a resolution of half a degree of latitude and longitude, or about 30 miles. This approach essentially ignores the mosaic of vegetation and topography present on the ground.

Paleontologist Dr. Tierney said the paper’s climate models were too simple to predict what climate change was like hundreds of thousands of years ago. It also questioned some of the model’s rules, such that humans can only migrate with minimal levels of rainfall. “I think it makes sense to make this assumption,” Dr. Tierney said. “The Nile, on the other hand, is always there. They could go out like this at almost any time.”

Similarly, Emily Beverly, an Earth scientist at the University of Houston who was not involved in the research, said the authors did not consider its existence. fresh water springs which could have served as a source of potable water for humans migrating during periods of drought.

On the other hand, paleontologist Dr. Potts noted that the minimum level of precipitation in the model would have been “too low” for hunter-gatherers to successfully migrate out of Africa. Dr. Potts pointed to the last Research suggesting that early humans could only spread across the continent when the mean average rainfall was more than 3.9 inches per year, and spread when there was usually at least 10 inches of rain. The more interesting research question, in Dr. Potts’s view, is what dispersal paths would be available in these windows of more abundant rainfall.

Perhaps the biggest question still remains unanswered. “More and more evidence suggests that we did it multiple times,” Dr. Beverly said. “The question I always have is why?”

Abdullah Alsharekh, an archaeologist at King Saud University in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia who was not involved in the research, said he appreciated the paper’s examination of the prehistoric Arabian climate. “The past few decades have shown that many of our questions about the out-of-Africa model can be substantially extended by on-the-ground research in Arabia,” Dr. Alsharekh wrote in an email. “What’s under those sandy deserts?”

Dr. Manika similarly hopes that future archaeological excavations and genetic investigations will shed more light on the staggering attempt by Homo sapiens out of Africa: both the first, seemingly unsuccessful waves and the main migration that led to Homo sapiens. sapiens to irrevocably change the rest. World.

How To Plant Grape Plants Top Useful Tips

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Sri Lanka Diary, Part 1/4

London to Kandy to Nuwara Eliya

It’s early on a rainy Thursday afternoon in January when I leave Oxford. Even under grey skies it still looks beautiful but I’m glad to getaway all the same. As per tradition, my January is fairly empty work-wise — the musician’s quiet month — so Harry ‘Deaco’ Deacon (bass player with Razorlight and Willie J Healey, among numerous others) and myself are heading east to Sri Lanka!

Two weeks of freedom in ‘The Land Of Serendipity’ is a tasty prospect – even without mention of the food. So to Heathrow I go, where a Thai waiter called ‘Servinio’ serves up my final taste of England - a passable fish pie - at The Curator before I board Sri Lankan Airways flight UL504 and we soar up to 31,000 feet.

↑ For your own safety and comfort please stow your bongos securely

It only takes American Sniper (better than expected) and half of Django Unchained (I‘ll be back for the rest) before I pass out. Deep in slumber I remain for the duration of the 10-hour flight before waking to a tasty Sri Lankan fish breakfast and a rapid descent into Bandaranaike International Airport.

Inside the airport it’s clinical and clean and the staff all wear white – though ominously a solitary Pizza Hut greets us before even reaching Passport Control… hopefully not a sign of things to come.

It’s early on a sunny Friday afternoon as I emerge from the terminal, dazed and disoriented, into the frenzied bustle and hustle of a Sri Lankan street. A hundred tuk-tuk drivers spy my pale skin and circle like vultures... airports are heady hunting ground for grifters the world over and it takes a feat of negotiating to convince a rickshaw driver to take me to the nearby bus station for less than the cost of my return flights...

Deaco has been out here for a few days already and has journeyed as far as Kandy, a small city in the middle of the island. It’s a four-hour passage to get there by bus and we meander along at a fair pace, slowly picking up elevation as the journey progresses. I’m a little weary but it’s an enjoyable ride – and very cheap too at 162 rupees (70p)!

There’s barely a junction or a turning to be made on the route east, just a long winding road up into the mountains, flanked by huts, houses, schools and shops. As they say in Asia: Same same but different. And despite being on another continent, many of the characters on the bus are familiar: a group of young mums gossip, school kids play, and my new friend and seat-mate Hashan, on his way to visit an Aunt, promptly falls asleep in my armpit.

The bus pulls in at Kandy station and Hashan peels himself from my underarm. I disembark and hop in a final tuk-tuk up to the pre-emptively named ‘Best Hostel’ where Deaco awaits. It’s his Birthday today! Many Happy Returns to the chap, and after a joyous reunion, we enjoy a celebratory dosa in town with a third travelling companion, Tom, from St Louis, MI.

Kandy is a vibrant little city popular with tourists and centred around a man-made lake. There’s a wiggly road that skirts its perimeter and I can’t help but think it would make for a great tuk-tuk Grand Prix – or at the very least a Kandy Lake track level on Mario Kart.

Harry takes me to see all the tourist attractions – which is kind, given he’d already been to see them before I arrived. We start at the Botanical Garden, a scenic spot with an impressive suspension bridge and a beautiful display of different grasses (who knew there were so many). We bump into old friends of his too: an odd pair of Russians with whom he shared a hostel earlier in his trip. The tourist trail is a well-trodden one and bumping into familiar faces hundreds of miles down the road is a common occurrence ... I suspect it isn’t the last time we’ll see them.

Next we enjoy a display of ‘Kandy Kultural Dancing’ (plate-spinning, back-flipping, fire-walking and some enthusiastic drumming) before heading over to The Temple of The Tooth, the centrepiece of the city and one of the biggest attractions in Sri Lanka.

As the name suggests, the focal point of the large Buddhist temple complex is a single tooth mounted atop a magnificent gold shrine. And not just any tooth! Indeed, the famous fang is allegedly one of the Buddha’s very own, pulled from the funeral pyre of his body back in 543 BC. It has a chequered history and the controversial canine has already been responsible for more than one war...

We barely catch a glimpse of the shrine, let alone the tooth itself, which as it turns out is safely tucked away inside a box within a box within a box within a box within a box within a box within a box. Only a handful of people have ever seen the holy fragment which leads one to wonder whether the tooth is literal or simply more a state of mind...

Tooth or no tooth, there’s a lively atmosphere in and around the Temple as night falls, while tourist and Buddhist alike are harmoniously integrated in a melange of worship, ceremony, prayers and music.

Feeling a little more spiritual, we rise early the following day and head to Kandy station for the 0847 train to Nuwara Eliya. It’s another small city further south in the hill country of the Central Province. The scenic journey that will take us there is apparently the stuff o’ legend and needless to say we aren’t the only ones with the idea. The platform at Kandy station is soon teeming with tourists – including a pair of familiar Russians!

First Class has long since been reserved by the coffin-dodgers on the package tours, so it’s a tight squeeze in the Second Class compartment. Not concerned with seats, we locate ourselves by an open door for the duration and take it in turns with our fellow travelling companions (the usual suspects – Aussies, Germans and more Russians) to hang out the side, take pictures and wave at those who call this beautiful land their own.

↑ Third Class can be found at the rear of the train, attached by rope

The train canters along at a pleasant pace, weaving in and out of tea plantations while the native folk enjoy their peaceful Sunday in the beautiful Sri Lankan hill territories. With much more rain up here, the scene is more colourful than the sandy beige of the lowlands, with plants, trees, grasses, shrubbery and foliage in every shade of green. Many of the quaint little stations (my favourite is called Ohiya) along the way have a distinctly English feel, reminding me with fondness of the Malton-Scarborough route oft ridden in my youth.

After 4 idyllic hours watching the country scroll by and chatting with new friends, we disembark at Nanuoya Station and our friendly cab driver Pryantha (+94 778 880213) takes Harry, myself and a handful of Aussies into Nuwara Eliya to drop us at our respective hotels.

At least that’s the plan, except Pryantha nor anyone else that he asks has actually heard of the ‘King’s Lodge’ and when we eventually arrive at the hotel in the picture the staff there don’t recognise the name either.

All the same, it’s such a pleasant spot overlooking the town that we decide to stay anyway. They show us to their last remaining room, a ‘triple’ which one presumes would surely contain at least two beds given that a triple bed doesn’t exist. In Sri Lanka however, it does, and it looks like tonight Harry and I will be sharing a bed, albeit a large one. (It’s good to know that the liberal Sri Lankans consider a three-way relationship quite normal and are prepared to cater to that in the design and manufacture of both beds and bedding.)

We wander into town for a bite, passing a sign for Grymsby Holiday Bungalow. As a Mariner myself, it’s nice to feel close to home – despite the misspelling – and a passing stranger poses with me for a photo, insisting that it was his Uncle who named the hotel and that it really is named after “Grymsby City in Engerland”.

We’re rapidly becoming fans of the cheap local eateries where the food is always fast and fresh (and there are lots of vegetarian options too). In Nuwara Eliya town we spy a vibrant spot teaming with locals and lay out a mean £1.70 on a dinner of vegetable kotu, egg rotis and dhal curry.

Nuwara Eliya isn’t called Little England for no reason. That night an almighty rain unleashes an unrelenting torrent that bounces off the roof and fills our room with a resonant 80dB of white noise. It’s not until daybreak that the downpour ceases – apparently this happens most nights – and I grab 6 minutes of uninterrupted sleep before heading down to breakfast.

We’re taking a tour of the surrounding area before training down to Ella later in the afternoon and our friendly hosts have hooked us up with their friend Hamza to show us the sights.

He rolls up bright and early in his well-kept rickshaw complete with rain flaps, CD player and anti-marijuana stickers. He’s the happy-go-lucky sort, with enough spoken English to get by and a friendly demeanor. It’s only when he smiles his generous smile that I first glimpse the most rum set of gnashers I’ve ever seen. There’s a section of ill-fitting false teeth, a couple held together with string, and some that barely look like teeth at all. If the Buddha’s canine was anything on Hamza’s I can see why they keep it locked up inside seven boxes.

First stop: Ramboda Falls. The journey alone is a thrill: an endless vista of tea plantations as far as the eye can see. These hill territories are carpeted with them and it’s easy to see why, after the overnight downpour.

Our rickshaw winds its way along the mountainside on a road peppered with pretty stalls selling fresh vegetables: aubergine, potatoes, curry leaves, onions, green chillies, carrots and unexpectedly to me, leeks, which it turns out are a delicious feature in many Sri Lankan dishes.

We swing a final right in a sharp descent and are suddenly confronted by 109 metres of sheer waterfall, a magnificent sight, and in fine thundering voice after the long nights rainfall.

Ramboda Falls holds the claim of being the 729th highest waterfall in the world, a fact which massively undersells what is actually an impressive spectacle. There’s a dangerous and slippery path which snakes up the rocky mountain face, and Hamza insists that it’s well worth climbing for a closer view of the natural wonder. Thankfully I had my Loake brogues only recently re-soled...

While our nature-loving guide takes a moment to scrawl our initials into a tree, an elderly native appears in the undergrowth. The water supply to her village some 5kms away unexpectedly stopped, so she traced the pipe halfway up the mountain to the spot where it was broken and is undertaking a repair job.

The descent is even more deadly, made all the more tricky when two Chinese schoolgirls wearing flip flops execute a reckless overtake and I almost lose my footing. Luckily I needed no dramatic rescue because Hamza’s attention was entirely on Harry. “I like your hair” I overhear him say to my friend. “You look like Robin Hood...”

The next stop on our tour of the Nuwara Eliya district is the Blue Field Tea ‘Factory’. It was opened in 1921 and has changed very little since. Everything is still done by hand and much of the machinery originates from Lincolnshire, Birmingham and Belfast. It’s atmospheric and rich in Colonial, vibes which I love!

Our tuk-tuk swings into the ‘Damro’ factory next but we’re done tea-tasting and ready for something a little more substantial, so Hamza takes us to his favourite buffet. The food is delicious, however, our respective understandings of the term ‘buffet’ are quite different. After sampling a little of everything on display (dhal, different kinds of rice, mackerel, swordfish, curried aubergine, egg curries, sweet and sour vegetables) it’s to our dismay that we’re charged the full price of a meal for every dish! Thankfully the food is so cheap that it doesn’t amount to much.

Finally we’re dropped off at the train station. It’s been a fine day in the company of our friendly tour guide and his willingness to shuttle us around from place to place without constantly asking us for more money is refreshing. Your teeth may be among the worst I’ve ever seen, Hamza, but we’ll miss you.

Part 2/4 follows shortly!

Mike

4 foods that are likely to suffer from climate change

From where they’re grown to how they taste to when we eat them, very little will stay the same in coming decades.

Climate change threatens many of the world’s favorite foods. A writeup in National Geographic’s Earth Day 2020 magazine by Daniel Stone lists seven “charismatic foods” that we can expect to “morph in appearance, nutritional value, availability, and price as growing regions shift and farmers turn to warm-weather crops.”

Right now, it’s easy to take for granted foods that grow far away and are imported to wherever we live. It’s easy to deny that climate change will affect their production, or to assume (erroneously) that warmer weather means longer and better growing conditions. The former may be true, but the latter not necessarily: “Lack of rainfall or insufficient cold weather could stunt even the best-laid seeds and plans,” Stone writes.

The UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change does not expect the world to lose much arable land before 2050 and says that few foods will disappear by then, but we should certainly brace ourselves for changes to crops and diets. The best thing we can do is start to accustom ourselves to a more locally-sourced diet. For someone like myself, living in Ontario, Canada, that means acquiring a taste for cabbage and apples in January over lettuce and strawberries flown from California.

The following list reveals several of the foods that Stone thinks will change in coming decades. Some are not surprising, having been discussed on TreeHugger numerous times. All are likely to become more expensive, due to shrunken crop yields.

1. Coffee

Warmer, wetter weather is driving up infestations such as coffee leaf rust and the berry borer in high-altitude locations that used to be unsuitable to such pests. All coffee is currently grown in the so-called Bean Belt, which “wraps around the circumference of the planet and comprises 70 countries, including Vietnam, Brazil, Colombia, Tanzania, Ethiopia, and Central American nations.” Other countries could become more suitable to coffee production as a result of the warmer weather, but they too would be susceptible to unpredictable and more extreme weather patterns.

An additional problem is that 60 percent of wild coffee species are nearing extinction, due to temperature increases, drought, and human encroachment. While the coffee that most people drink comes from only two varieties – arabic and robusta – having such a narrow source makes it vulnerable to climate change. Wild species have evolved traits that make them more resilient to change, making them crucial for coffee crop development, and their loss would spell disaster for the entire industry.

2. Bananas

The cheapest, most versatile fruit in the supermarket could disappear someday if an aggressive fungus called fusarium wilt (or Tropical Race 4) is not brought under control. Already it has decimated crops in Africa, Asia, Australia, parts of the Middle East, and most recently Colombia, where a state of emergency was declared last summer.

National Geographic reports that, while warming may have expanded the banana’s growing area, it has simultaneously “raised the risk of fungi that devastate plants.” Similar to coffee, the fact that 99.9 percent of banana cultivation relies on a single variety, the Cavendish, makes it particularly susceptible to disease. As I wrote before,

“We should have learned our lesson years ago because the same situation played out in the mid-20th century, when the popular Gros Michel banana – the main variety exported to Europe and North America at the time – nearly went extinct from an earlier strain of Panama disease, TR1.”

3. Wine

Grapes are a finicky crop at the best of times, but it’s about to get even harder for vineyard owners and winemakers. “The beverage will endure, but changes in terroirs will force vintners to find ways to maintain wines’ signature tastes,” Stone writes for National Geographic. A study from earlier this year found that, with a 2-degree Celsius global temperature increase, suitable wine-grape growing regions in the world could shrink by as much as 56 percent. Make that 4 degrees and we’d lose 85 percent.

Much of wine’s susceptibility comes from the fact that it has failed to evolve with the times. Many of the pinot noir and syrah grapes used in France today are genetically identical to the ones used by ancient Romans, which of course allows for an illustrious pedigree, but makes it fragile in the face of disease. To quote post-doctoral researcher Zoë Migicovsky of Dalhousie University, “We [will] need to use more chemicals and sprays in growing [them] as threats advance.” The good news is that new grape varieties can be bred for greater resilience, but much has to change to allow for that, from labelling laws to agricultural practices to consumer acceptance.

4. Olives

National Geographic writes that “early frosts, heavy rain, and wind halved Italy’s production last year. Such extremes could limit crops in many places.” Indeed, TreeHugger reported in 2017 that hot muggy weather had attracted fruit flies and bacteria to Italian olive groves, that heat waves had decimated parts of Greek crops, and floods in Spain had ruined even more.

The situation has only worsened since then. Now Mediterranean growing regions are threatened by a bacterium called Xylella fastidiosa, or olive leprosy, that blocks an olive tree’s ability to move nutrients, causing it to wither and die. Italy has seen a 60 percent decline in crop yields since the bacterium’s discovery. Unless definitive action is taken soon, having a bowl of olives to nibble with wine could soon be a thing of the past.

Stone’s list includes avocados, salmon, and shrimp, as well, which you can read more about in the current Earth Day issue of National Geographic.

From where they’re grown to how they taste to when we eat them, very little will stay the same in coming decades.

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Tags: 4, Change, Climate, foods, suffer

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Anchored Tempest - Chapter Six

The roll did not last very long, as it happens. Oh well.

~~~

           “You… be here… very?” asked Una in Orcish as she followed Karash to the nearest lift, taking two steps for every one of his.

           “Not so much recently,” said Karash. “Just for the big meet every spring equinox.”

           “Equinox?” asked Una, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

           “Oh – the time when night and day are the same length.”

           “Oh, the ek-wi-noks,” she said, supplying her own language’s equivalent.

           “But every Memory-Singer spends a lot of time in the Warren while we’re in training,” said Karash. He ran a claw over the stone wall, smiling. “Some of our finest paintings are in the caves here; they’re excellent aids for learning the histories.”

           Una pointed at the waterfall. “What… what do when… very water come?”

           Karash paused for a few seconds, trying to parse what she had asked. “There are floodgates at the surface,” he explained once he was pretty sure she wanted to know what they did during high-water periods. “They can restrict the flow after periods of heavy rainfall, or divert the river altogether in emergencies. Here, this will take us down to Nirali’s usual place.” He stepped onto the lift platform and held the gate open for Una. A large raven perched on the railing gave him a baleful look and flew off.

           Una closed the gate behind her. Karash pulled the control lever; the chain began to clank through its pulley high above, and the lift began to descend. On every level they passed, orcs paused in their work to stare openly.

           “Does Nirali speak Balaurin?” Una asked in that language as a group of youngsters ran to the edge of their balcony for a better look at her.

           “Better than I do,” said Karash. “She’s been a Memory-Singer for about ten years longer, and since the Sky Kings are her chosen speciality…” He shrugged, and went on more quietly. “Listen – Nirali’s very friendly and you won’t get any trouble from her, but… don’t stare when you meet her. She is used to it, but… it’s rude.”

           “Why would I stare? I’ve seen plenty of orcs by now.”

           Karash gave a noncommittal hum. “You’ll see shortly.”

           Una fell silent and folded her hands behind her back. The lift stopped at the lowest level of the great cavern and they both stepped out onto the stone floor.

           A worker at the nearest forge paused in the middle of shaping a new gear for a lift system. “I’d heard the rumours Karash had found one,” he said to his friend, “but is that what a Sky King looks like? It’s tiny!”

           “Well, it’s about as tall as I am,” said the other smith, rinsing soot off her hands in a bucket of water, “but it’s so skinny! I reckon I could snap it in half in a straight fight.”

           Una looked over her shoulder, frowning, and gave Karash a curious glance.

           “How much of that did you understand?” he asked.

           “Something about me being small.”

           “Just ignore them – they’re just gossiping.”

           “I’m actually considered quite tall for a woman,” Una grumbled.

           Karash chuckled. “I wonder if I can visit your ‘Stormhaven’ some day. It would be interesting to see how everyone compares. This way.”

           They left the cavern down a passageway much like the one they had first entered through, roughly carved from the living rock and a little too small for Karash’s comfort, but it sloped slightly upwards and soon opened out into a wider cave lit by the comfortable yellow glow of oil lamps and with every inch of its walls and ceiling covered in paintings.

           Karash rapped his claws against a gong by the entrance. “Nirali! I hope you were expecting us?”

           Nirali, halfway up a scaffold against the far wall, placed her spray pipe on a stand and hopped down to the floor. “Yes, yes, we heard the message drums just the other day. A friendly god? I’ve always theorised such a thing must have existed, but they certainly never showed themselves during the Song of Fire. But for one to make its way to these mountains now… fascinating. I have to say, despite their tyranny, there’s always been a part of me that’s sad never to have seen one in the flesh. They must have been extraordinary to behold. Their bones can certainly give you an idea of their size, but it’s just not quite the same, is it? I mean, the skeleton of a longtusk barely resembles the living beast. How much information are we missing regarding the gods?”

           “Nirali.”

           Nirali wiped a few flecks of paint from the polished rock-crystal lenses of her glasses and placed them back on her face. “Yes?”

           Karash placed a hand on Una’s shoulder and gently pushed her forwards. “This is Una.”

           Nirali brushed her claws through the fur on her throat. “Amazing,” she breathed, slowly walking around Una and looking her up and down. “You must forgive my enthusiasm,” she said, lapsing into fluent Balaurin. Karash privately noted with a wry smile that her pronunciation was far better than his own. “The bones of the Sky Kings never preserved as well as those of the gods; the songs can tell us a great deal about what they did, but the actual tangible evidence of your predecessors’ physiology is… lacking.” She drew herself up straight, measuring their heights against each other. Nirali stood perhaps one of her own hand-spans taller than Una. “I’d always imagined something much more imposing.”

           “I’ve been getting that a lot,” said Una, looking back at Nirali through wide eyes.

           “You’re staring,” muttered Karash.

           “Under these circumstances, I think it’s only fair that she returns the favour,” said Nirali. “It’s not every day one is stared at by a Sky King.”

           In her own way, Nirali stood out just as much among the orcs as Una did. She was of normal build, maybe a little taller than the average female, but one would never miss her in a crowd: every hair of her pelt was a snowy white over skin so fair that it nearly matched the colour, while her eyes were an extremely pale blue that took on faint hints of pink and violet in the right light. The number of times she had left the Warren in all the time Karash had known her could be counted on one hand; she had occasionally ventured out for the Midsummer celebrations, and had once joined an expedition up to the Valley of the Fallen God to study the remains of Voice of the Mountain, but she generally preferred the shade of the caves to the glare of the sun outside.

           “Before you ask, she doesn’t have a disease,” said Karash. “She’s quite healthy; it’s just the way she was born.”

           “Well, of course,” said Una. “My mother has gwynder as well.”

           “Oh, is that what your people call it?” asked Nirali. “I don’t think we even have a word for it. It’s just… the way I look. Hmm. Gwynder. I may start using that.” She clapped her hands. “But I’m being a poor host. Sit, sit, I’ll make us some drinks, and we can have a chat.”

           Nirali’s cave didn’t have much furniture, but there were a few squashy chairs gathered around a stove at one side. She poured from a gently-steaming copper kettle into three waiting mugs and passed them out one by one. Una’s, designed with a male orc in mind, looked absurdly large in her hands. She took a sip and froze, her face expressionless but for slightly raised eyebrows.

           “It’s a little bitter,” she croaked in response to Nirali’s knowing smile.

           “It’s an acquired taste,” said Karash. “But I rather like it, personally.”

           “We all know your fondness for extreme flavours,” said Nirali. She passed Una a small earthenware bowl and an antler spoon. “Here’s the sugar. There’s a jug of milk in the ice box if you need some.”

           “What is it?” asked Una once she had added some sugar and milk to the strange brew. “I expected coffee, but…”

           “It’s called shakalat,” said Nirali. “It’s made from the seeds of a tree the Islanders cultivate. The surviving verses of the Song of Distant Water imply that a seafarer from Three Forge Island brought it back from a land far to the east, but it’s such an ancient and fragmentary song that it’s impossible to say how accurate it is.” She stirred her drink and sat back on her chair, crossing her legs. “So. Since you came to visit me specifically, I take it you have questions about the magic of the Sky Kings. Though what I can explain that an actual Sky King doesn’t know, I’m not sure…”

           “Well, firstly, I’m not one of the Sky Kings,” said Una. “I’m not even really Balaurin; I was sort of adopted after I accidentally made a bond with my dragon.”

           “Dragon?”

           “God,” supplied Karash.

           “I see. Carry on.”

           “And I was sent here from the Dragon’s Teeth – the mountains far to the north – to see if any of the Sky Kings’ ‘gods’ were still here…”

           She and Karash took turns to go over what had happened to the dragons of the north, how the Eastern Highlands were hidden from scrying, and their theory that answers might lie in the Tempest Spires. Nirali tapped her claws against her mug, set it aside, and stood up.

           “This ‘scrying’ you spoke about,” she said, rifling through a rack of scrolls against one wall. “That’s some form of… magical spying, correct?”

           “Yes, it’s a way of seeing what’s happening in places far away. Some particularly skilled seers can do it purely mentally, but most need to use something like a crystal or a pool – and they all do if they want to show someone else what they’re seeing.” Una shrugged. “I’ve never had the knack of it. My powers run along different lines.”

           Nirali took a scroll from the rack and turned back around to give Una as intent a look as her gwynder-weakened eyes could achieve. “You’re a stormwielder?”

           “I don’t know what that is.”

           Nirali unrolled the scroll on the floor, a safe distance from the stove. It was a map of the mountains and islands, drawn with impeccable care and marked with tiny emblems. “For all their might, most of the Sky Kings did not wield magic of their own,” she explained. “They preferred to rely on the powers of the gods, who possessed abilities far beyond the fires of their jaws alone. Voice of the Mountain is the most famous, shaking the earth and pouring molten rock from mountains that had never so much as twitched before, but he’s far from alone. Red Snow in the Killing Winter possessed a roar that could shatter stone. Wind in the Canopy of the Ancient Forest held a strange influence over the earth, but not like Voice of the Mountain; she could affect the grip that the earth had on things, make them heavier or lighter. Crashing Wave Breaking the Cliff could kill with a look – or so the songs record. I expect the actual mechanics were a little more complicated. Perhaps it was some kind of healing ability twisted out of shape. What does your god – your dragon, I mean – do?”

           “We don’t know yet,” said Una. “She’s still quite young – she probably won’t develop a special ability for a while yet.”

           “Hm. But I’m getting side-tracked. The stormwielders were Sky Kings who held magic of their own, summoning flames and wind and lightning and so on. Most didn’t even have a bond with a specific god – dragon – the way you have with yours, but they were still some of the Sky Kings’ most feared enforcers, for they could reach the hiding places that the gods were far too big to access.” Nirali waved a hand, indicating the Warren in general. “This place was the headquarters of the resistance during the Last Revolt; all the ways in are too small for a god, but they had to be well-hidden from the stormwielders.”

           “If you mean it in terms of just… having magic of my own, then I suppose I am a stormwielder,” said Una. She held out one hand and conjured a little witchlight to illustrate her point. “But I don’t think the connotations of being some brutal enforcer apply. At home, they just call me a wizard or a mage. So there was nothing the orcish mages could do to counteract the stormwielders?”

           “There are no orcish mages,” said Karash.

           “I – oh. That makes a horrible kind of sense. Of course, they would have been the first targets when the Sky Kings first invaded here, and if they were thorough enough…” Una sighed and bowed her head. “That’s something my family understands much too well.”

           There were a few seconds of silence. Karash glanced at Nirali, who shrugged; Una looked up to see them both looking back at her in polite confusion.  

           “I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” said Nirali. “Karash doesn’t mean that the orcish mages were wiped out. He means that there have never been orcish mages.”

           “But-”

           “We have the beast-bond,” said Karash. “Beyond that… orcs do not have magic.”

           “What, none? No healing? No levitation? Not even a witchlight?”

           “None,” confirmed Nirali.

           “So that lift we came down on-”

           “Mechanical,” said Karash. “They use a combination of counterweights and water power.”

           Una ran a hand through her hair. “That’s so weird,” she said. “I mean, I knew some populations had less magic than others, and some where some types are much more or less common, but to meet a whole race of people with none…”

           “It’s how it’s always been,” said Nirali with a shrug. “But it’s not a stretch to believe that the stormwielders also had knowledge of scrying and how to hide from it. Here, look at this map.” She tapped a claw against the parchment. “Most of the settlements and buildings of the Sky Kings – at least, those we could get to – were ransacked after the Last Revolt, but there were a few we were never even able to scratch. Here, here, here, here and here.” Her claw touched each point in turn; five tiny symbols like flat-topped pyramids. “We don’t know what the Sky Kings called them; we just call them the Sky Stones, because of who put them there and their places on the highest ridges outside the Tempest Spires. They’re definitely magical in some way or another; the resistance noted seeing stormwielders and g- and dragons working at them during the last days, pouring magic into them. I’ve only ever seen one in person, above the Valley of the Fallen God. You can feel the power in them when you get close. My guess would be that they have something to do with blocking your scrying.

            “But moving on from Sky King magic in general to your specific problem: the storm protecting the Tempest Spires.” Nirali tapped the cloud-shape representing the storm on the map. “Storm Clouds Roiling over the Deepest Green Abyss – one of Voice of the Mountain’s lieutenants – was able to bend the weather to her will. I’ve always believed the storm was her handiwork. But Storm Clouds was killed during the Last Revolt; Ikara the Black slew her personally and displayed her skull in the festival grounds.”

           “Maybe the Sky Stones hold some of Storm Clouds’ power as well,” said Una. “Keeping her spell running somehow.”

           “I’ve considered the possibility,” said Nirali. “But with no way to crack open a Sky Stone – and believe me, we’ve tried – or to get up to the Spires through the storm, we can’t be certain.”

           “Well… Things might be a little different now,” Una said, and grinned. “Would you like to meet my dragon?”

~~~

Visit the orcs, they have chocolate. I’ve never been 100% decided how much New World produce the various peoples of Stranatir have access to, as they haven’t yet established any proper trade routes with the in-world geographic equivalent. For example, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned potatoes. Generally speaking, if somebody is using any, it was retrieved by either a small group of explorers or an experimenting Portallist.

Nirali has occasionally been given stick for her albinism, but no more than anyone who looks unusual can expect; she was never actually ostracised for it as Fayn was.

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Can famine be checked as Africa faces its worst crisis since the 1980s?

Peter Ford, Scott Peterson, Ryan Lenora Brown, CS Monitor, JULY 30, 2017

SIHANAMARO, MADAGASCAR--For as long as she can remember, Vaha Saajinuru, a wiry middle-aged woman with an expressive face, spent much of each day in exhausting drudgery, fetching water. Living on the parched, drought-stricken south coast of Madagascar, she had to make the journey four or five times a day: out of her village, down a cactus-lined dirt road, and across thorny grassland to a muddy water pit more than a mile from her home.

Then she’d walk back again, slowly, so that the water did not spill, a plastic bucket balanced on her head, a jerrycan in one hand and a granddaughter clinging to the other. Sometimes, when things were really bad, she and her family would drink what they call “chocolate water”--whatever they could scoop from potholes in the rust red clay roadway.

“We knew it wasn’t good for our health but we had no choice,” says Ms. Saajinuru.

Now she and her neighbors in Sihanamaro do have a choice as they gird themselves, like millions of others in Africa’s arid zones, to cope better with drought and the threat of famine. With help from UNICEF, they have installed seven community faucets around the village, each set in a cement trough and protected by a picket fence, to provide clean water pumped from a nearby well. “This has changed our lives,” Saajinuru says.

Madagascar’s brush with widespread starvation last year drew little attention from the rest of the world. But over the past 50 years other African countries have come to epitomize the dangers of drought and the tragedy of famine. Today, battered by global warming and civil wars, wide swaths of the continent again face an unprecedented crisis: In Nigeria, South Sudan, Somalia, and across the Red Sea in Yemen, 20 million people face starvation, “barely surviving in the space between malnutrition and death,” in the words of UN Secretary-General António Guterres.

Yet the threat many of these people face today may be less grave than it would have been for their parents and grandparents. Over the past two decades, African nations have learned valuable lessons about how to predict, if not prevent, droughts, and how to ward off famine by strengthening the defenses of the most vulnerable.

From Madagascar to Ethiopia to Somalia and beyond, governments, international aid agencies, and the villagers they help are building up “community resilience.” That’s the new buzzword in humanitarian circles: It is seen as key to ensuring that farmers and herders have something to hold onto when drought strikes, rather than cycling endlessly in and out of disaster.

Resilience is a big concept that works in little ways. It could be a water project such as Sihanamaro’s, ensuring that already malnourished children do not get sicker by drinking polluted water. It could be a public works venture in Ethiopia that pays villagers cash or gives them food to build roads or dig wells. Or it could be an experimental farm in Somaliland encouraging goatherds to diversify into growing food crops.

These initiatives won’t prevent drought, nor will they eliminate famine overnight. But by helping people withstand sudden shocks and contributing to longer-term development goals, they are saving lives.

In the meantime, there is a life in urgent need of saving at an emergency health center in Hargeisa, the capital of Somaliland, a self-governing breakaway region of Somalia in the Horn of Africa. Nabhan Ismail, his eyes sunken and a feeding tube taped to his cheek, turns restlessly on his bed as family members take turns stroking his tiny body. The family made the journey to this center, run by UNICEF and the Somaliland Red Crescent, after waiting seven days to find a ride from their remote area 100 miles away.

“I am thinking about Nabhan’s health and praying to God that he will get better,” says Ismail Ibrahim, the boy’s teary-eyed young father. “I have never heard of a drought that claimed the lives of the livestock and the lives of people.”

He says “countless” children have died recently of hunger and disease in his remote home district 100 miles away. His herd of 100 sheep and goats has been reduced to just six animals.

Mr. Ibrahim is by no means alone. The United Nations warned recently that 6.7 million people are in urgent need of assistance in Somalia; 6 million people are in the same predicament in South Sudan; in Yemen, 7 million people are on the brink of famine.

“We stand at a critical point in history,” UN humanitarian affairs chief Stephen O’Brien told the UN Security Council in March. “Already at the beginning of the year we are facing the largest humanitarian crisis since the creation of the United Nations.” Four months later, the outlook is no less grim.

The crises in South Sudan and Yemen are almost entirely human-caused. They are the result of civil wars in which all sides destroy crops or steal livestock in punitive raids, forcibly confiscate food aid for soldiers’ use, and make it too dangerous for humanitarian workers to go to many areas.

But Ethiopia, Somalia, and Madagascar face a different problem: They are at the sharp end of climate change, which is disrupting rainfall and other weather patterns. The current drought in southeastern Ethiopia follows a dry period in the north, which in turn struck only a few years after the 2011 drought in the Horn of Africa that brought famine to Somalia. It’s a succession of extreme weather events that would have been unthinkable just a generation ago.

“No rain, no water, no pasture, no milk, no food,” laments Halima Gawsole, a thin and muscular herder with hard eyes, listing the chain of misfortunes she has endured since the rains stopped coming in southern Ethiopia a year ago.

Now she and 30 members of her extended family are on the move, trudging down the road through a parched landscape, their last remaining possessions piled on the back of their sole surviving animal, a weary donkey. They had heard the government was handing out water and sacks of grain nearby and had come to see if it was true. “We have lost everything now,” says Ms. Gawsole.

Next door, Somalia is living through a drought that, residents say, is even worse than the one that killed 250,000 in 2011. It has forced hundreds of thousands of people from their grazing lands into makeshift camps with no sanitation, such as one on the outskirts of Burco, a desert town 110 miles east of Hargeisa.

A straggly collection of sticks and rags, the settlement--which residents ironically call “prosperity camp”--offers little protection from the oppressive heat and wind-whipped sand. The only relief is brought by a water truck that comes daily.

“Water is life, but what about food and something to cook it with?” asks Farah Robleh, whose veins stand out on his forehead above his gaunt, gray-stubbled cheeks. He once herded 200 goats and sheep and 20 camels. He has just 20 goats left. “I don’t think anyone can live here anymore,” he sighs. “We have no options. We are only waiting for help.”

In Madagascar, the large island off the southeast coast of Africa, the situation is less grim, but droughts that used to come in cycles are now semipermanent. In 2016 El Niño made the rains even more irregular, “and last year was the worst that I’ve experienced,” says Audin Rabemiandriso, the doctor who runs the health clinic in the dusty, ramshackle coastal town of Ambovombe.

Desperate to buy food, locals first sold their goats. Then they sold their prized humpback cattle. Finally, they sold their kitchen pots. There was nothing to cook, anyway, besides leaves and bitter cactus fruit.

Droughts are inevitable, and likely to strike more often and more harshly because of global warming. But famines are avoidable. It’s a question of doing the right thing. And, critically, of doing the right thing at the right time.

That’s why the UN and aid groups are increasingly unleashing a new weapon in their quest to prevent famine--warning the world early and often. In 2011, when a quarter of a million Somalis died of starvation, half of them had already perished by the time famine was officially declared. It was that tragedy that prompted the UN to sound the alarm in advance, last February, about the current impending disasters.

It worked, sort of. International donors stepped up quickly, and the famine that had been declared in two districts of South Sudan has been beaten back. Elsewhere in the country, though, the situation is worsening and a million more people need immediate aid now than in February.

In Madagascar the world reacted quickly to the creeping food crisis last year because international aid workers had long been present in the country, one of the poorest and least developed places in the world. UNICEF saw that food was growing alarmingly scarce as early as 2015, when government doctors and nutritionists carrying out routine health checks began reporting skyrocketing levels of child malnutrition.

Quickly, the agency expanded its nutrition programs to all 193 town and village health centers in the south, screening every child under age 5 and making sure the most malnourished were given high-nutrition peanut-based food supplements. By and large, they succeeded; few children died.

International agencies “were here, ready to go,” says Elke Wisch, UNICEF director in Madagascar, “and we switched gears into emergency mode in a timely fashion.”

To cope with hunger, aid groups are increasingly trying a novel tactic--handing out cash instead of food. In Yirowe, a drought-stricken village in Somaliland, cash transfers have been instrumental in giving locals the ability to hold out.

The goal is to keep people from leaving their homes and joining the flood of 740,000 internally displaced people who are straining international relief efforts. And it’s working. Not only have all of Yirowe’s 655 families stayed put, but they have welcomed 150 families from the nearby countryside.

Concern Worldwide, an Irish nongovernmental aid group, gave the village’s poorest families $65 a month for three months and double that in April. Cash handouts are an increasingly common way of giving aid in many parts of the world. “Cash allows the flexibility for beneficiaries to make empowered choices about what they need most,” says Erin Wolgamuth, Concern’s regional manager in Somaliland.

“Without this help ... we would not even be at a basic level,” notes Abdirizak Ayah Awad, the head of the village committee that chose the recipient families.

Patricia Soavenira has benefited from cash payments, too. She lives in a cramped, low-roofed thatched hut in Ankilimanara, a tiny village on Madagascar’s parched south coast. Ms. Soavenira is one of 55,000 mothers whose malnourished children make them eligible for a $10 monthly handout from a local nongovernmental organization.

Before the payments, Soavenira had sold everything her family owned except one pot and a spoon. Now she has bought five more spoons and another saucepan. She takes weekly trips to a market an hour’s walk away, where she buys rice, corn, and beans.

“Without the cash, we’d just be eating cassava leaves and wild cactus like last year,” she says.

In some cases, local villagers are appealing directly to individuals. Jamal Abdi Sarman, a senior UNICEF staffer in Hargeisa, is a member of a private WhatsApp group using mobile phones to spirit aid money to hungry Somalis.

“From Australia, from South Africa, from Istanbul and California the money goes into the same [bank] account in Burco,” a town in the heart of drought country, where it is used to buy food for the neediest families, Mr. Sarman says.

A handful of herders first sent out an SOS six months ago when their livestock began to die off. Since then, their WhatsApp group--christened Daryeel, which means “caring”--has gathered $255,000 from fellow clan members and other donors on five continents. It has paid for water trucks and packages of rice, dates, sugar, milk, and oil for nearly 1,000 families in 39 villages. But the benefits have spread much further.

Ununley is a tiny desert community of corrugated tin-roofed homes and rustic stick-frame shelters covered with sheets and blankets in Somalia. A handful of modest shops cling to the paved road that bisects the settlement and disappears into the unforgiving Somali moonscape. Ten families here received a share of the bounty that came in and have, in turn, shared it with their neighbors.

“Almost 100 families did not move because of the help for 10 families,” says Safiya Hassan Ibrahim, who distributes the aid with no-nonsense efficiency.

“The assistance came when we most needed it,” adds one recipient, Mohamed Farah. “It changed our lives--we would have died without it, just like our livestock.”

As much as these initiatives help, relief experts say that more “sustained resilience” programs are needed to prevent people from drifting into despair to begin with. Such efforts can take different forms. In Andahive, a village in southern Madagascar, resilience comes in the shape of a new sweet potato.

Prinu Rakutunirina, a leather-faced local farmer, has always grown sweet potatoes, but the traditional local variety was not ideal: It grew poorly in drought and the tubers went bad within weeks of harvest.

Last year he planted a new, more drought-resistant strain, introduced by agronomists with the UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO). But it was no match for the dry weather: Starved of water, the plants withered, twice.

Maybe it was faith or maybe it was desperation, but Mr. Rakutunirina stuck with his experimental variety: He finally brought in a harvest last February.

And what a harvest it was. Yields were double what they used to be, he says, and the new sweet potatoes last for nearly a year. That means he can decide when he wants to sell them. He can also carry his family through the lean season, between harvests, when there is normally nothing to eat.

Rakutunirina was part of a pilot group using the new variety. “Now everyone wants to plant this type,” he says, though it will be a year until the 100,000 farmers using the improved shoots will have harvested enough to spread the variety across the dry south.

“If there is no rain for three months it does not matter how many high-yield seeds you plant,” cautions Jean-Etienne Blanc, an FAO fieldworker. “You’ll get a poor harvest. But farmers are learning about good-quality seeds and how to use them, and next year they will be seeking them out.”

Rural residents across northeastern Africa are also learning how better to conserve water. Consider the case of Mohamed Abdi Madar, a camel herder who roams the scrubland west of Hargeisa. He doesn’t live near a well, but he does now have access to an underground water tank that catches and stores rainwater. It was dug by locals and paid for by Concern.

“Leaving aside the livestock, even the people would start to die without this water,” says Mr. Madar as he pulls up a full bucket to give his two camels.

The concrete-lined tank, 40 feet long by 20 feet across and 10 feet deep, gathers rainwater channeled to it from higher ground and stores it under a sheet of corrugated iron to slow evaporation.

Without the tank, protected from animals by a thick ring of thorn bushes, herders would have been forced to head to a riverbed six miles away. “But we would have gone there only with hope,” says Madar: The riverbed is dry and “we do not have the power or the resources to dig out the water.”

Dependent on the supplies in the tank, Madar and his fellow herders are turning away from their ancestral nomadic lifestyle and taking up agriculture as a new source of sustenance. “It’s not optional, it’s mandatory,” says Mohamed Abdi Yusuf, an elder at another water catchment tank nearby. “Whenever people lose their livestock they start farming.”

Mr. Yusuf has identified a deeper shift that may have to occur if Somalis are to survive recurring droughts--a cultural one. Once upon a time, the camel was “as vital to life as the tendons in one’s back,” as an ancient Somali poet put it, “a living boulder placed by God in the wilderness.”

Today nomadism “is no longer tenable,” says Saad Ali Shire, Somaliland’s foreign minister. Since the 1950s his country’s population has risen sixfold and livestock numbers fourfold, burdening the land beyond what it can bear even when the rains come.

“If we want to keep camels and sheep and goats, then we must change the way we raise them,” Mr. Shire says.

That will mean staying in one place and growing animal feed alongside other crops, such as the vegetables that trainees are about to harvest at the Free Farmer School, 40 miles outside Hargeisa. Young citrus trees, sunflowers, onion, and garlic wave in the breeze. Local elders offer corn and watermelons as gifts to a visitor and emblems of their desire to learn a new lifestyle.

“We gave them seeds and tools to increase their resilience,” says Khaled Taib, a water expert with Concern, which set up the farm. “Now they need some knowledge.”

Modernization and development can help stem starvation as well. This has certainly been the case in Ethiopia, once a poster child for catastrophic famines such as the one that killed more than 400,000 people in 1984. Today, thanks to more than a decade of breathless economic growth, the country’s image is closer to matching that of its capital, Addis Ababa--gleaming, cosmopolitan, and boldly aspirational.

Indeed, Ethiopia has become a regional model for early famine warning and nimble response. This year the country has been plagued by the same drought as next-door South Sudan and Somalia but is experiencing nowhere near the suffering.

The 2015-16 drought in the north of the country “was at least as bad” as the 1984 drought, says Stein Holden, an Ethiopia expert at the Norwegian University of Life Sciences in As, Norway. “But because the country is economically much stronger and more stable now, it has been able to provide a lot of the aid itself, without outside intervention.”

Contributing to Ethiopia’s success: a natural disaster management office that amasses stacks of early warning weather data, and a public works program in the lean season that pays poor Ethiopians in cash or food to build the kind of infrastructure that the country needs--water storage tanks, paved roads, and health posts.

“The system Ethiopia has is spectacular,” says Kelly Johnson, a World Bank social protection expert advising Addis Ababa. “It is beginning to serve as a model for other programs in Africa and around the world.”

Ethiopia’s success story is not a simple one. The country’s one-party government has instituted and maintains a firm grip on journalists and political opponents. Foreign aid workers are careful not to offend their hosts by speaking too openly of problems they find.

But, significantly, drought no longer necessarily means death in Ethiopia.

For other parts of Africa, that is, unfortunately, not the case. Despite the lessons learned about alleviating famine over the past quarter century, droughts still occur. For every relief effort that works, another falls short. Hunger still stalks villages.

But aid workers and local residents are getting better at blunting the effects of drought, saving lives as they do. Amid all the hardship, there are individual moments of triumph, too. Back in the emergency health center in Hargeisa, staffers have been working assiduously to save little Nabhan, the infant with the feeding tube. A week after being admitted to the center, nurses say he is on his way to recovery.

“We think he will survive,” says his joyful grandmother, Ardo Mohamoud. “We are so happy!”

New Post has been published on Catamaran Sailing Holiday

New Post has been published on https://www.catamaransailing.holiday/asia-here-we-come/

ASIA, HERE WE COME!

Fisher in the San Blas. The Indian’s sail with little canoes for fishing or collecting coconuts from the many little islands.

ASIA, HERE WE COME!

On the 23rd of January 2017 our dream became reality: we started our journey to the West with final destination: the ‘far East’.

Sailing to Curacao. Sails are in “milkmaid” setting. The weather and sailing with catamaran yemaya is perfect. There is a nice little wind. We go 7 knots.

After 5 years of traveling through Caribbean waters, it is time for us to explore new areas and to quench our thirst after more spiritual minded cultures. For me it feels like a pilgrimage in which we slowly sail closer and closer into the direction where my Beloved Guru resides, Asia, India…. To be able to live closer to Him and visit Him on a more regular basis, makes my heart sing with joy!

Sailing in a storm going from Curacao to Panama. In the water we pull long (300 mtr) storm lines to balance the back of the catamaran. Our top speed is 20 knots. Yemaya performs very nicely.

      CROSSING THE CARIBBEAN OCEAN FROM BEQUIA TO PANAMA

It is well known to us how Mother Ocean has her different faces. She can be as calm and patient as a loving mother or completely going mental as a wild fury.

One of the great hidden beaches with crystal clear water we found while exploring Curacao

When we left Bequia on the 23rd of January to set sail to Curacao, the weather could not be more welcoming. It was a lovely, calm sail of 4 days with nice fruit smoothies as breakfast, yoga and meditation on the deck and quiet nights with enough sleep. As a welcome, relaxing intermezzo we visited the beautiful islands of Aves, where we indeed saw great flocks of pelicans, and where we had a pleasant swim. Just like paradise!

Anchored in front of one of the Aves (Venezuela) islands. No other ships to see.

Our sail from Curacao to the San Blas Islands, Panama, however was far from paradise like. I was too seasick to bother about delicious smoothies and happy if I managed to prepare some food anyway. The ocean builded up and the wind kept on singing louder and louder. In the last two days we had winds up to 42 knots and waves of 5-6 meters. No quiet sleep anymore especially when something broke in the autopilot and Deep had to steer till daylight through the tremendous waves. In the morning we switched to the second autopilot. The area between Curacao and Panama is well known for its rough seas. It is one of the seven roughest oceans in the world. So we were not completely surprised, although the weather was far heavier as predicted. The good thing is that this was probably the roughest ride of our entire trip!

      Pelicans on one of the salt water lakes in the middle of Curacao

Very old slave estate on Curacao

    CURACAO, THE NETHERLANDS IN A TROPICAL SETTING

Trying to find our way to the right dinghy dock, I start asking a local in English where to go to. He stumbles over the English words and asks me:’Can you please talk Dutch?’ Wow, that is something new! Just talking in your own mothertongue and they even ask for it. Curacao is a surprisingly diverse island with a cosy capital full of colorful buildings, very well developed industry in comparison to the other Caribbean islands and in the North the rough nature and countless ‘Boccas’: natural bays created by the ocean bumping into land and creating ‘mouths’ where the waves are crashing high up into spectacular forms.. The rich history of Curacao is not a happy one. Lots of slaves were brought here and the slave trade to other Carribean islands was big bussiness. There are still a lot of the plantation houses intact and well maintained. Although the sad story behind it, most mansions are a delight to look at. Beautiful architecture.

      Drying cloth and storm lines after storm.

Seeing land again after a few days of sailing.

Next to sightseeing we visited a lot of supermarkets, marina shops etc to buy all we could for us, Juna and Yemaya. After Curacao it will be impossible to get certain items for about a year. Especially for our cat Juna and boat Yemaya. It was a weird sensation to visit the Albert Heijn, a typical Dutch supermarket, where the set up of all the products is exactly the same as in the Albert Heijn of Malden, where most of my family lives. Even the temperature was the same because of the strong airco. For some time I was back in The Netherlands.

      Indians fishing with sailing canoe in the San Blas

Yemaya has a well deserved rest in San Blas after storm ride.

    SAN BLAS ISLANDS, LAND OF THE KUNA YALA INDIANS

After our rough ride of 4 days, it was a great feeling to arrive into calmer waters again. With the first glimpse of land we were happy as little children. Suddenly we saw the high mountains of Panama dooming through the clouds and as we came closer dozens of little islands filled with palm trees caught our eyes. Land again!!!! The San Blas region consists of more than 300 little islands. Some of them inhabited, but most of them just islands completely packed with palm trees. The waters are amazingly turquoize and the corals are so beautiful. The spotted eagle rays are everwhere here and are jumping out of the water just as if they want to say:’ Here we are.’ One morning we had two dolphins next to the boat, slowly swimming through the bay. The Kuna Indians are the sweetest people ever. In our opinion they are so much softer and relaxter than a lot of the locals we have encountered in the West Indies. It is a real treat to be able to stay here for some time.

Rafting in the jungle on our dinghy with our friends Reinhilde and Frits from sailing catamaran Bella Ciao

The main land is covered with jungle and little rivers are coming down the mountains to merge with the ocean. We went there to do our enormous mount of salty laundry one day. But thanks to a nice tropical rainfall I didn’t have to carry the laundry to the river. Just sitting in the pouring rain, catching the water with our catching device gave me plenty of delicious sweet water to finally wash everything needed. A blessing from heaven! After that we went up to the river to see a bit of jungle. We didn’t see crocodiles, as we hoped for, but were surprised by so many different birds in all shape s and colors: kingfisher, woodpecker, giant bird of preys, vultures…

NEXT STOP: MAINLAND PANAMA, PREPARING FOR PANAMA CANAL TRANSIT

So our Carribean episode in our life is about to finish. We will enjoy paradise here for some more days before we will be heading for Puerto Linton. Than a lot of paperwork and arranging the panama canal transit will start. After that our Pacific adventure will begin!