Since about mid-October the country has been bone dry, and the Desh was beginning to become a single shade of ochre brown as dust settled over everything. However, a few weeks ago whilst watching Spurs play Man Utd, almost exactly a second after Paul Scholes scored his goal at the Lane, about 5000 miles away in Bangladesh it began to rain. I took my hands away from my face, trying to avoid the site of that ugly little ginger, and looked up at my ceiling as the heavens began to hammer down. To compound my misery, my washing was still out on the line.
I thought it might have been a one-off, but now the weather is definitely beginning to change. After a genuinely cold January, the heat is in the high twenties at mid-day and the humidity is in the seventies all evening. We’ve had a couple of thunderstorms, and I really mean thunder; so loud it’s woken me up at night and during the day you’d think we’re being bombed. No low distant rumble, a thick, tumultuous crash of sound seemingly directly overhead.
The positive aspect of the rise in temperature is that soon I’m going to be able to save time in the mornings by having a cold shower, rather than having to wait and boil up some water and then wash using a bucket, which has been my routine for the last three months. I never thought I’d look forward to a cold shower before.
Overall though, the fact that the weather’s changing isn’t a great sign; Bangladesh is one of the wettest countries in the world, and Sylhet is the wettest town in Bangladesh. Although I think my roof is solid, my route through the slums to work will certainly flood, as will quite a lot of the town, and country. The VSO reception guy in Dhaka told us that last monsoon he walked to work waist deep in water, which I can barely imagine, and of course, we’re not talking Evian water here. So after nearly three months without any rain, it looks like in a month or so it will be time to test my brolly and maybe swap my bike for a kayak.