Bis'millah.
I have no power, but I am happy.
The hurricane...
I didn't really keep up with the news, assuming like Gustav or other hurricanes of the season, it would be nothing dramatic.
On Friday, as work was canceled and school was closed we met, together at the mosque. If smiles had been painted on people's faces and their outfits sparkled in sunlight and sung out in color, I would have thought it was Eid. The mosque was packed, the skies turned gray and I shook hands with my friends, with sincerity instead of formality and wished them the best.
As we prayed night prayer at mosque, it got windier and windier, at only half intensity, wind would later escalate to double in its mph. Then with three families in one house, Friday night seemed like a mini hangout. The kids jumped off sofas onto bean bags, we sat around throwing jokes and enjoying the company. Eventually, drained out, we slept, spread out in rooms around the house. Storm heightened and winds continued to roar through the night. At 4am we awoke, watching through windows outside, scared. After eating morning meal prior to starting our fast the hurricane got nearer and after morning prayer, we watched as rain and wind slammed against our windows and wind made trees and power lines dance back and forth as if they would fly off and away with the weather, which played its own nightmarish symphony.
We fell back asleep every couple of hours and closer to noon the wind died down half way and rain fell down straight, in consistency. Driving back home we dodged fallen trees, gutter flooding and natural debris. In our zip, we say fences broken, power lines down, but we were happy, all the damage was minor. Houses still stood, with their windows, and families were still together, in our zip, 379. Thank God.
The reflections...
We were scared, but the least damage befell upon us. We expected worse, and with the hurricane, worse also was swept away.
The power hasn't come back yet. They say next week maybe, as our power lines, fell to the roads and need to be restored. We have water; clean water. I hate Houston at times, because there is no wind. But after Saturday nights storm, the wind continues to make curtains back and forth into and out of our windows, with its grace.
I am happy. I don't like when the lady at the mosque, makes duah for power. I feel in spirit of the month and our endeavors we in our zip, are better without it. For our siblings to joke that Eid will come like this, now seems true. We may celebrate in candles.
People in Galveston lost their homes, a lady in Texas city lost her son as the transformer fell and lead to his death, Trees destroyed cars, sides of houses. Flooding entrapped people. All over Galveston the scene, from what we hear on radio and through others who have power, is bad. For them, they may not be happy. For them, the only water is contaminated and their are hanging on to a string of hope for life to be even slightly the same as it could have been.
So why are we suffering then without power? When water and food at still available. How much realization did we come to? When we are so dependent on internet and television? On cell phones and online chat? On all these things that for many serve as distractions. Where is our sense of detachment from the world? Especially now, especially in these 30 days where our only focus is to arrive at a nearer station to God? For some, the last few days, without electricity are too much to handle.
What did Ike do for you? Did you develop or mature at all? Did you even notice a wake up call? How much did you realize about yourself? We're still sleeping...too many of us.
Please pause, and remember those who lost too much in your prayers.
Be the good samaritan, put yourself aside.
As peace corps motto goes, "Life is calling, how far will you go?"
Life of Ike; eye capturing dramatic shots
ABC photos
Pre Ike
ike early days
ike aftermath
