When I was young, I was scared of the storm. The fear made my childhood difficult. Like any other child, I enjoyed the scent of wet soil but at the same time disliked the rain. I grew up in a village, and the memories are still vivid. Sometimes I would be sent to places within the village but away from our home. If it rained on that day, it led to the worst experiences of my life.

I had always been told that lightning could strike baobab trees. I grew up in a semi-arid area where these trees were plentiful. Whenever I walked past a baobab tree, I would sprint like the Jamaican runner Usain Bolt because I believed that was the day the baobab tree would be struck by lightning. I wish my mother had considered the fact that I hated storms.

Surprisingly, I still fear storms today, even though I am older. They make me feel vulnerable. I have sleepless nights if it rains at night. My son can’t understand this; he says I should have outgrown that fear already. It’s even worse if the rain is accompanied by a storm. Fortunately, I’ve developed a strategy to deal with my fear. Right after the thunder strikes, I usually count to seven. If I manage to count to seven, I take a long sigh of relief. It’s a sign that the storm is far away.

Whenever I only manage  to count to four, I hold my breath, waiting for the loud strike. It’s a terrifying experience! I live on a hill, so during rainy nights, I wake up to watch the water rushing by my window. I sometimes wish I could control nature and have wild thoughts like using a TV remote to stop the rain. Ironically, I also want the rain for my garden, but the fear it brings makes my stomach flutter.