Reporting from the Soggy Trenches!

Interestingly enough South Africa’s extreme weather has been reported as far a field as the US of A. That makes it kind of national disaster proportions, right? Well, permit me to proudly announce that I am stuck in the middle and yes, I have survived so far. I have outlived the wrath of the weather gods. I know, that is looking for trouble because now they are going to want to come back with a vengeance.

It started on Wednesday, the power went off. My sincerest apologies to friends I was chatting to online. I promise, when I said BRB that was the intention. Little did I know that the power failure was going to be a long one… more than 24 hours long.

So, a power failure, what’s the big deal?

Apart from the obvious, being in the dark because you can’t switch on a light, bumping into things, hearing Flyboy curse because he stubbed his toe…

Severe, extreme internet withdrawals!!!!!

You can’t flush a loo, or have a shower/bath. Our water supply works with pressure pumps, which need electricity to operate. Spot the problem? What is nicer than a hot bath/shower when you are wet, cold and miserable?

Luckily we could still make munchies – gas hob! The greatest invention yet!

And of course, the dairy can’t operate. What’s the big deal? When animals are turned into milk producing machines they need to offload the milk otherwise they suffer from a wealth of complications, painful and potentially fatal ones. It’s not pretty!

Okay, there is a contingency plan on this farm, a generator large enough to power up a small town. Brilliant, isn’t it? Well, it would be if the tool was in the right hands. We all know that electricity and water don’t make a good cocktail. Oddly enough the Strange Employers don’t. The generator was installed under the dairy roof, just in the right place to be drenched by torrents of water coming out the gutter. I know, pure genius! Needless to say, flip the switch to the sound of 1 000 cows bellowing in pain and… *surprise* it burns out.

Contingency plan number 2: Borrow the next door farmer’s generator.
Action: Burn that one out too.

I promise, I am not making this up!

And then of course there is the water, which arrives in the form of rain, vast quantities of this stuff around at the moment. Implications…

Our house leaks, like a sieve. No, not through the roof, that would be too normal. The water pours in through the windward-side walls. Well, that is kind of what happens when you build a house using the Bargain Basement Construction Company – my only consolation is that it is not my house. The carpets are wet, the Houndus Maximus’s bed is wet… what? My dog has a bed, okay… and a pillow, and five blankets. And he refuses to go to sleep if he isn’t tucked in with his head on the pillow.

Speaking of my robust, tough gun dog… usually he goes to work with Flyboy but on Wednesday morning he stuck his head out the door, gave this wet stuff one look, turned around and went straight back to bed. For the whole day! He refused to even go for a leak. Now, most people know that it isn’t healthy to “knyp” (pinch but it sounds better in Afrikaans). Eventually the next morning Flyboy coaxed him out into the garden to do his liquid ablutions. He pee-ed for about half an hour and then his three legs got tired and he had to change position.

On Wednesday night the dam’s outlet was non-navigable. So, Flyboy got a lift to the dam wall and had to wade through it in waist deep water. Of course I was dutifully on the other side to collect one standard soggy, cold Flyboy.

To add to my woes, I am in the process of training a new domestic. I mean training because she honestly knows nothing. To illustrate my point, I asked her on Wednesday to please fold up the clean laundry and put it away. On Wednesday night when I opened the cupboard it resembled a sock drawer. Everything was rolled up into little balls and shoved in, anywhere. As I said to Maw, training her is a case of the blind leading the blind. I was contemplating telling her that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Until this morning!

As has been the pattern over the past few days it was coming down in buckets this morning. Flyboy was on his way to fetch my protégé. Voila, here was this young lady at the door, sopping wet and she obviously doesn’t own rain gear. She had waded through the waist deep water to come to work. Now, that kind of dedication you hang on to. As SwissMix said this morning, he would have taken one look at the weather and decided “Stuff that.”

Oh, and I ran out of smokes. DISASTER! And I can’t go to town because I can’t get a) across the dam wall and b) off the farm because half the roads have washed away. It provided some tense moments because Flyboy, bless his sense of timing, decided this was an opportune time to give me a lecture on the down side of smoking. The man should thank his lucky stars he is still alive.

Fortunately I had a contingency plan – which didn’t require blowing generators. SwissMix to the rescue! However, as luck would have it he got stuck on the dirt road just as I had my last cigarette. The cavalry that came to rescue him also go stuck. So, about four hours later and deep into my withdrawal agony we met, very romantically, on opposite sides of the dam’s flooded outlet. And the contraband was ceremoniously hurled a la hammer throw style in my direction. Okay, the bread got a bit squished but hey, who cares? I had my fix.

We can now also offer white water rafting because our little “spruit” (stream) has literally turned into the Zambezi River. Any takers?

For some reason though, despite my frustration I can’t get too angry though. There are people worse off. Three of the farm worker’s houses had trees fall on the roofs. And I know the folks in PE are wading waist deep in water in their own houses (Buddess, I am thinking of you and I hope you guys are okay).

To end off, I will quote Flyboy:
“The next farmer who prays for rain I will kill!”

PS: The heavens have just opened up again! *sigh* Oh, and this is post 100 on The Katt Box!