In the space of five minutes, twenty-two dust devils rose from the dry ground and weaved toward us on the highway.
It was a sign of things to come.
From a distance, they look harmless as they wobble and twist across the plain. Most of them peter out after a few minutes and from a distance, even the large ones don’t look like they could do more than ruffle your hair affectionately.
We set up camp for a late lunch at about 3.30pm. The usual routine was now working like a well-oiled machine - after a few false starts. Seats were out and washing buckets filled. Food was prepared and we were half-way through eating when the fateful words were uttered.
“Oh, shit” was all Jade said.
We turned to the direction she was looking and 40m away and approaching at a sprint was a rotating wall of sand. Jade was clambering up the truck steps before anyone else had fully taken on board what was about to happen.
I followed her instinctively, jabbing her in the buttocks with my fork to convey the urgency that was rapidly dawning on me.
And then it was upon us - I say us. I mean them.
The wind hit the carefully laid camp and scattered everything. Chairs zipped a hundred feet into the air before landing 500m away. The washing-up bowls dumped their contents into the maelstrom before following the chairs upwards.
The peppers and cheese smashed into the truck and slid down the windows as we cowered in amazement at the force of nature that was passing through. Knives flashed through the air - cups and plates flew away.
Everyone caught outside the truck covered their heads as they were blasted by sand and crockery.
And then it was over.
The chairs and bowls were still dropping from the sky like confetti on the far side of the road while Dave marshalled the walking wounded to gather anything that could be salvaged.
On the upside, Dave was able to use the ‘items lost in tornado’ column of the Dragoman spread sheet for the first time in the company's history.
They found Sharif clinging to the top of a telegraph pole and Nic buried beneath a pile of agricultural machinery a quarter of a mile down the road.
We never saw Leon again.
No comments:
Post a Comment