Lou-Anne and the Storm on the Open Plain

The morning began with clear blue skies and the sort of warm breeze that made the tall Savannah grass ripple like water.

Lou-Anne packed a small lunch into her satchel and joined M’Pofo, Kiera, Vakawu, Ubejane and Marmalade beneath the baobab tree.

“We’re going to the lookout hill,” she announced. “Opi says you can see all the way to the distant mountains from the top.”

Vakawu swung down from a branch. “Excellent. I shall climb the highest tree and see even farther.”

“There are hardly any trees on the hill,” said Lou-Anne.

Vakawu paused.

“Then someone has planned this outing badly.”

M’Pofo lifted his trunk and sniffed the morning air. “It should be a pleasant walk.”

Ubejane glanced towards the horizon. “There are clouds in the west.”

“They’re very far away,” said Kiera, already bouncing down the path.

Marmalade trotted beside Lou-Anne with his tail held high, apparently confident that the trip had been organised primarily for his benefit.

They set off across the open grassland.

The lookout hill was farther away than it appeared. They crossed a shallow stream, passed a herd of grazing zebras and stopped to watch a secretary bird stalking carefully through the grass.

By late morning, they reached the top.

The view was magnificent.

Golden plains stretched in every direction. Acacia trees dotted the landscape like little green umbrellas. Far beyond them, blue-grey mountains rose beneath the sky.

Lou-Anne opened her sketchbook.

“This was worth the walk.”

M’Pofo stood beside her, his ears moving gently in the breeze. “The Savannah looks very peaceful from here.”

Ubejane turned towards the west again.

The distant clouds were no longer distant.

They had grown into a dark wall across the horizon.

The first warning

Vakawu climbed onto the tallest rock and shaded his eyes with one hand.

“That is a very large cloud.”

The wind changed.

The warm breeze disappeared, replaced by a cool gust that flattened the grass and sent dry leaves tumbling over the hill.

M’Pofo raised his trunk.

“Rain.”

A low rumble rolled across the plains.

Kiera’s ears stood straight up. “Thunder?”

Another rumble followed, louder than the first.

Lou-Anne closed her sketchbook and put it into her satchel. “We should go back.”

Ubejane looked at the open path below them. “We won’t reach the baobab before the storm.”

The sky darkened with astonishing speed. The sunlight vanished, and the whole Savannah turned grey-green beneath the growing clouds.

Vakawu’s fur stood up in the wind.

“I would like to revise my earlier opinion. This outing may now contain too much sky.”

A bright flash split the clouds.

Several seconds later, thunder crashed over the hill.

Marmalade jumped against Lou-Anne’s legs.

“It’s all right,” she said, though her own heart had begun beating faster.

M’Pofo lowered his head beside her. “We need shelter, but not beneath a lone tree.”

Lou-Anne remembered what Omi had taught her. During lightning, tall isolated objects were dangerous. So were hilltops and open water.

“We have to get down from here,” she said. “Away from the highest ground.”

They hurried down the far side of the hill, where the land dipped into a broad hollow between rocky ridges.

The wind pushed against them. Dust flew into Lou-Anne’s eyes. Kiera stayed close instead of hopping ahead, and Vakawu clung to M’Pofo’s back rather than risking the whipping branches.

Then the rain arrived.

Caught in the downpour

It began with a few enormous drops.

Plop.

Plop.

Plop.

One landed directly on Ubejane’s nose.

He frowned at the sky.

Then the clouds opened.

Rain crashed down so heavily that the distant grass disappeared behind a silver curtain. Within moments, Lou-Anne’s clothes were soaked and water was running from the end of Marmalade’s tail.

“This is ridiculous!” shouted Vakawu over the roar.

Thunder answered him.

They reached the hollow, but there was no proper shelter. Only low rocks, thick bushes and a shallow depression in the ground.

M’Pofo stood on the windward side of the group, shielding them from the strongest gusts with his broad body.

“We stay here,” he said. “Lower ground, away from the hilltop.”

Ubejane positioned himself beside M’Pofo, forming another solid wall.

Lou-Anne crouched between them with Marmalade tucked inside her jacket. Kiera pressed close on her other side. Vakawu climbed down and sat low rather than making himself the highest object in the landscape for once.

Another flash lit the clouds.

Lou-Anne counted quietly.

“One, two, three…”

The thunder came.

“Three seconds,” she said.

“That is close,” said M’Pofo.

They all fell silent.

The storm raged above them. Lightning flashed again and again, followed by thunder that shook the ground beneath Lou-Anne’s boots. Water ran down the slope in little streams, gathering around the stones.

Marmalade trembled inside her jacket.

Lou-Anne stroked his wet head. “I don’t like it either.”

Kiera looked frightened. “Will it stop?”

“All storms stop,” said M’Pofo. “We simply have to make good choices until this one does.”

That helped.

Not enough to make the thunder pleasant, because thunder has never cared whether anyone finds it pleasant, but enough to make Lou-Anne breathe more slowly.

Another traveller in trouble

Through the rain came a faint cry.

Lou-Anne lifted her head.

“Did you hear that?”

The sound came again.

A thin bleating noise from somewhere farther along the hollow.

Kiera peered through the downpour. “Someone’s out there.”

Ubejane shook rain from his ears. “We cannot wander around in lightning.”

“No,” Lou-Anne agreed. “But it sounds close.”

M’Pofo stretched his trunk into the wind and listened.

“There,” he said, pointing towards a cluster of rocks no more than twenty metres away.

They moved together, staying low in the hollow.

Behind the rocks they found a young springbok trapped beside a fallen branch. One of her back legs had become wedged between two stones. She was soaked, frightened and struggling hard enough to hurt herself.

“Stop kicking,” Lou-Anne said gently. “We’ll help you.”

The springbok stared at the enormous elephant, the rhino, the kangaroo, the monkey and the girl approaching through a thunderstorm. It was admittedly quite a lot to process.

M’Pofo used his trunk to hold the fallen branch steady while Ubejane pushed one of the loose stones aside.

Lou-Anne knelt near the springbok’s head.

“You’re nearly free.”

A bolt of lightning flashed, and the springbok jerked in panic.

Lou-Anne kept her voice calm. “Stay with me. Look at me, not the sky.”

Kiera crouched beside her. “You’re safe.”

With one final push from Ubejane, the stone rolled away.

The springbok pulled her leg free.

She stood unsteadily but did not run. Instead, she pressed close to the group, accepting their shelter from the wind.

“Welcome,” said Vakawu. “We are currently operating a storm refuge.”

Ubejane gave him a look.

“A very serious storm refuge,” Vakawu added.

Waiting it out

The rocks offered slightly better protection, though they were careful not to hide beneath an overhang where loose stones might fall.

The friends settled close together.

M’Pofo and Ubejane remained on the outside. Lou-Anne, Kiera, Vakawu, Marmalade and the springbok stayed between them.

Rain hammered the earth.

For a while, nobody spoke.

Then Vakawu whispered, “This is taking a very long time.”

“It has been six minutes,” said Ubejane.

“An extremely long six minutes.”

Lou-Anne began telling a story to distract everyone. It was about a monkey who believed he could control the weather by shouting instructions at clouds.

Vakawu interrupted almost immediately.

“Does it work?”

“No.”

“Then I question the realism.”

Kiera giggled.

Even the springbok seemed calmer.

The lightning slowly became less frequent. Lou-Anne counted seven seconds between flash and thunder, then ten, then fifteen.

“It’s moving away,” she said.

The rain softened from a roar to a steady patter.

The dark clouds began breaking apart, and a thin line of pale gold appeared near the horizon.

M’Pofo raised his trunk and breathed deeply.

“The worst has passed.”

The washed-clean Savannah

When they finally stepped out from behind the rocks, the world looked completely different.

Water glittered on every blade of grass. Tiny streams wound through the hollow. The air smelled cool, clean and earthy. In the distance, sunlight poured through a gap in the clouds and touched the plains with gold.

Then Kiera pointed towards the sky.

“A rainbow!”

It stretched from one side of the Savannah to the other, bright against the retreating storm clouds.

Lou-Anne stood in the dripping grass and stared.

“It’s beautiful.”

Ubejane shook himself, showering Vakawu with water.

Vakawu spluttered. “I had only just stopped being wet.”

“You were standing too close,” said Ubejane.

The rescued springbok tested her leg. She could walk, though she moved carefully.

A call sounded from beyond the ridge.

The young springbok answered immediately.

Soon an adult springbok appeared, followed by several others. The mother rushed towards her and touched noses with her lost youngster.

Lou-Anne smiled as the little family reunited.

The mother looked back at the friends before leading her youngster away, as though she understood what they had done.

Home again

By the time they reached the baobab tree, the storm was only a dark line in the distance.

Omi and Opi were waiting anxiously with towels, warm drinks and several questions about why everyone looked as though they had crossed a river without the assistance of a bridge.

Lou-Anne told them everything.

Omi wrapped a towel around her shoulders. “You made sensible choices. You left the high ground, avoided isolated trees and stayed together.”

“And we helped the springbok,” said Kiera.

“You did,” Omi replied. “Without forgetting your own safety.”

Marmalade emerged from Lou-Anne’s jacket looking half his usual size. Opi dried him carefully while Marmalade complained as though the storm had been organised by the household specifically to inconvenience him.

That evening, everyone sat beneath the baobab eating warm soup while the last drops fell from its leaves.

Lou-Anne looked towards the now-clear horizon.

“The storm was frightening.”

M’Pofo nodded. “Being brave does not mean pretending something isn’t frightening.”

“It means doing the sensible thing anyway,” said Omi.

Vakawu lifted his spoon. “And telling stories while waiting.”

“Quiet stories,” said Ubejane.

Lou-Anne smiled.

They had been caught far from home beneath a crashing sky. They had been soaked, scared and unsure how long the storm would last.

But they had stayed low, stayed calm and stayed together.

And when someone else needed help, they had made room inside their little circle of safety.

Outside, the clouds had cleared completely. The first stars appeared above the rain-washed Savannah, brighter than they had seemed the night before.

The thunder was gone.

But the lesson it left behind remained.

When a storm catches you unexpectedly, you may not be able to control the sky.

You can still control how carefully you think, how closely you stay together and how much courage you share.