Haven’t I been telling you that the dog was strange? I have recently discovered that she is absolutely scarred shitless of thunder and lightening. Because I’ve never noticed before, I suspect that it’s a fairly recently-developed phobia – number four for those who are counting. Now thunder and lightening in Ireland can infrequently be frightening enough, but thunder in the Tropics can be really bone-shakingly scary. In Uganda’s rainy seasons, it generally starts to rain around the same time every day, and at the height of the season, it seems to rain steadily at night. And unfortunately, the rain often comes with thunder and lightening attached. Many times it’s far enough away so that you only hear a distant rumble, but quite frequently (too frequently for my liking) it happens in your own neighbourhood and it’s then that I crawl deeper under the sheets counting “one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand … ” to find out how close it is.
The first time I heard a serious thunder crack in the middle of the night, I actually clawed my way under the bed with the fright because I thought it was an earthquake. In fact, the earthquake that happened a few weeks later simply rattled the cups and saucers in the kitchen cupboards. Thunder during the day never seems as bad as thunder during the night — I think it’s that 4 am bleak time that makes it seem worse. Anyhow, the long and the short of it is that we get these fierce storms at night and although I’m becoming more used to them, I still don’t like them.
But last week, we had a serious storm during the middle of the morning and it has caused us a serious setback with regard to our new telephone system. We were so excited at the thought of being able to make a call from home instead of having to drive eighty-four kilometres to make it, and now we are almost back to square one. The national provider had said that we are too far from the main road (is three and a half kilometres really too far?) and refused to get us connected. So The Man asked around in Belgium (naturally enough) and, lo and behold, a small telecom company was willing to come and connect us to the outside world. I won’t tell you the number of Uganda Shillings involved because it really is too vulgar. Anyhow, they came about ten days ago and have done all the usual things associated with telephone connection like digging up large areas of campus, erecting a gimormous telephone tower (which apparently will microwave (stet) our calls to Masaka and then put them onto the national provider’s lines), and hacking great big holes in walls and stuff like that.
On the last day, the boss was making a final check of all the wall sockets and had just finished sticking a screwdriver into one of them in the study at home, when a God-awful crack shook the very foundations of the house. I was at the computer typing up repeat exam questions when a big spark seemed to jump up from the socket and over the printer and was gone like greased lightening, which it was. Ian rushed back into the study white-faced and asked what had happened.
“Lightening”, I explained with the nonchalant air of one who has become accustomed to such terror.
“Wow! That was something”, he exhaled gratefully.
“Wasn’t it just? But a big spark has just jumped over my computer and disappeared”.
“Oh God, no”, he sighed, “that doesn’t sound too good”.
“Just as well you hadn’t still got your screwdriver stuck in that hole otherwise you might be fried by now”, I joked.
But it wasn’t a joke: it turned out to be the reality of a very close call. A nearby transformer had been hit by the lightening which it sought the quickest route to earth – that just happened to be through our newly-laid phone lines. Apparently, it travelled up to the The Man’s office, jumped over his printer too, took itself off to the newly-built telephone room, did a fair bit of damage in its brief passing, and then scooted out to the end of the line where it promptly found a big tree and fried that in its dying throes.
That’s why we are back to square one, although the good news is that The Man had everything insured. I didn’t know insurance companies dealt with acts of the gods, but apparently they do, and they have since paid up so new equipment is flying in next week. But in all the mayhem of the moment, I had forgotten about the dog: it turns out that she had been locked in the utility room (by mistake) and was fairly upset when she was eventually found.
They say that dogs are more sensitive than humans about things like earthquakes; maybe the same goes for electricity. Anyway, she was so afraid that she had to get some extra doggie treats in the middle of the day. I am tempted to suspect that the fear Flossie exhibits when it thunders might well be an attempt to get more pigs ears, although I am prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise.