Tomorrow, there will be a devastating tsunami. If the Indian Ocean region in which our island lies had this premonition at Christmas in 2004, perhaps countless lives would not have been lost and precious property could have been saved. Instead, the sea crept up like a silent killer, smiled its deadly assassin’s smile, stabbed us in the back with the dirk under its cloak, and stealthily tiptoed back to its sub-oceanic caverns. Naturally, the wake of destruction it left in its trail was nowhere near so poetic. We were caught completely unawares, dealt a deathly body blow, and left reeling to recover as best as we could under the circumstances. We are still picking up some pieces; while other debris (mostly human jetsam and flotsam) are lying about in desolate abandonment.
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To say that it was the worst natural disaster in living memory would not be an exaggeration for us islanders. But it was not the first such catastrophe to sweep over our shores, nor in all probability will it be our last. Only recently, we were caught napping – again. When a cyclonic subsystem descended like an Assyrian coming down like a wolf on the fold, its cohorts all gleaming in purple fury and blotting out the gold of the sun. Again, poetry was the furthest from the minds of the storm-tossed fishermen on the high seas… “We waited and waited to be rescued,” they wailed plaintively, “but no one came?”
The writing is on the wall… all over the world. There are wars and rumours of wars with every swing of the pendulum. Nations rise up against nations, and kingdoms plot rapine and pillage against their neighbours. Or, better still, lands far away rich in oil and conveniently ruled by regimes despotic enough to provide a rationale for invasion and seizure of control. Plagues, famine, earthquakes, pestilences are commonplace. It’s as if the people on our planet – to say nothing of the powers that be, the present rulers of this age – have been weighed in the balance and found wanting.
That our own authorities have dropped the ball time and again goes without saying. So much has the buck been passed in the aftermath of natural and unnatural disasters that we have become past-masters at shutting the stable door after the horses of the apocalypse have bolted. Every excuse under the sun (there is nothing new under it) is trotted out to cover one’s tracks, seal over the cracks, and inter the lapses. For starters, that we could not be ready because the weather is an unpredictable beast. (Which reminds me. Q: What did one weather forecaster say to another as they were leaving the Met Dept for the day?
A: Let’s take our umbrellas – you can never say whether it will rain…). For instance, that we were ready but our equipment was not – in fact, it is substandard as is and hopelessly antiquated. For example, that we were ready and our equipment and systems were in place, but no one told us that a hurricane was hurrying our way, so we did not think it necessary to issue an early warning. As Captain Haddock would have said, “Ten thousand thundering typhoons!”
There are some lessons in the tsunami of seven years ago for all of us. Firstly, to be prepared at all times. As Lord Baden Powell probably never said, “Watch and wait… that must be our motto and maxim!” Here’s where we separate the men from the boys. Secondly, to learn – quickly and well – from our mistakes in the past… fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. The first time we staggered under the onslaught of inclement weather, it was happenstance. The second time we were caught unawares that a cyclone was loitering in our vicinity with malicious intent, it was no coincidence that we suffered a systemic under-load and failed to pre-empt tragedy striking. The third time, enemy action may make us regret for life (or eternity?) that we had no early warning systems in place – or that we failed to heed the signs…
Thanks to the true spirit of the season, though, we have an inkling of the way it will all end. The elemental forces of the universe have been issued an early warning, as have the flesh and blood figures against whom they contend day and night. We don’t need to wail plaintively and wait to be rescued. A child, born on a cold winter’s night (they say, quite mistakenly), shall lead us into that safe haven where there will be no more tears, darkened skies, eclipsed moons, or nature wracked by gales and whirlwinds. Which tornado or tempest would dare stand in the way of the lord of sea and sky? |
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