Chapter 11

Melanie’s apartment, iSigodi Resort, Lake St Lucia.

The lush forests of the south tip of Madagascar felt the first sting of Zephyria’s fury. Trees bent and swayed under the force of the gale, their leaves torn away and carried off by the relentless wind. The birds, sensing the approaching storm, had long ago took frantic flight, seeking refuge from the approaching tempest.

Cyclone Zephyria churned its way across the one thousand six hundred kilometres expanse of the Mozambique Channel of the Indian Ocean, growing in strength and fury. Massive, towering clouds billowed upwards, their dark, menacing forms stretching for kilometres and casting ominous shadows over the water below. The sea roiled and churned; its surface whipped into a frenzy by the relentless wind.

As the cyclone moved south-westwards, it encountered the warm, fertile waters of the Indian Ocean in the channel between Madagascar and the African east coast, fuelling its power and intensity. As it approached, the wind began to howl, picking up speed from the south, as if the very earth was groaning in anticipation of the storm’s wrath.

Last night the cyclone lashed the southern tip of Madagascar, and at its present course and speed it will make landfall on the African Coast around midday.

Thirty-five nautical miles to the north, the tranquil waters of Lake Sibayi were transformed into a maelstrom. Waves surged and crashed against the shoreline, their white-capped peaks a stark contrast to the usually calm surface of the lake. The water level rose dangerously, flooding the surrounding areas and threatening to engulf everything in its path as Zephyria continued its relentless advance. Buildings shook, trees were uprooted, and the very ground seemed to tremble beneath the cyclone’s immense power descending upon the land with a terrifying force.

I ran down the steps of the wooden stairway on my way to go warn the unsuspecting Melanie about the approaching storm. Last night Melanie was out for the count and did not hear or comprehend when Helen spoke about the cyclone.

Cecilia, one of the receptionists, came along and stopped me.

“Miss Ková is back in her apartment if you are looking for her, Mister Van Aswegen.”

“Oh, thank you. I will go on by there and see how she is doing.” I replied and made off towards Melanie’s apartment.

I found Melanie surrounded by staff. She was in the wheelchair and directing some of the staff in salvaging kitchenware that somehow survived the inferno. They were packing it in boxes and moving it to her spare bedroom. “Hello Ty,” Mel greeted, though it seemed to me that she was a little emotional. “Hi, how are you doing?” “Not good.” “I can see...” “Then why do you ask if you can see I’m not doing fine?” she rebuked, but then turned towards me, realising her answer was a bit on the bitchy side. “Sorry, Ty. I’m so sorry, I did not mean it like that. Please forgive me...” “It’s okay, Mel. You’re forgiven,” I replied, knowing that she was bereft and emotional. I placed my hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. “My father built this kitchen...” She replied, and I could detect a tear in her voice. “We will see to it that it will be restored to its former glory. But now we have a bigger problem.” “What’s that?” “Cyclone Zephyria is bearing down on us. It’s supposed to hit the African coast north of Lake Sibayi at 12:00...” “Dammit! That gives us less than two hours to shut up everything!”

“What can I do, Mel?”

Melanie jumped into action: “Lulu, get Sam to board up that broken window. The rest of you, go get all the others and come to my office. Now!” She turned to me:

“Wheel me to my office, please, Ty.”

Melanie, with her feet injured from the previous night’s fire, and relegated to a wheelchair, was still a force to be reckoned with.

“There is still a piece of glass in my right foot,” she said and handed me a printout of a digital x-ray. I took the printed A4 sheet of paper from her and looked at it. Even I, who is not a medical person, could see the foreign body deep inside the soft tissue of the sole of her foot.

“It must have broken off from a bigger piece,” I softly said, still looking over the x-ray. “Must be so,” She replied. “You have pretty bones in your foot,” I said after a while. “Oh, come off it, Ty! Everyone’s feet looks the same on an X-ray...” She retorted. “Not this one. Look at how beautiful and dainty your toes are formed.” This time she laughed. “Okay, I get it! You are trying to make me feel better,” She sighed. “Well, you were successful. Now, wheel me to my office, please.”

“Melanie, we need to get that glass out of your foot. It could get infected,” I said.

“I know, Ty, but right now, we need to focus on preparing for the storm,” Melanie replied, her voice resolute despite the pain.

I wheeled Melanie to her office. In getting Melanie from her apartment to her office, I had to wheel her along the wooden deck that circles in and around all the buildings around iSigodi. Lucky there were no stairs involved as all were on the same level, high above ground.

Her home and company were set on the shores of Lake St Lucia, and while not directly in the line of Cyclone Zephyria, there was still a lot of work to be done to keep everyone and the buildings safe. According to her, we had to move quickly because the storm was projected to hit only thirty-five nautical miles to the north. We had to safeguard the safety of her staff and the visitors who did not go south to Richards Bay, Empangeni, or Durban.

I watched as she got up out of the wheelchair, limping but determined, and gathered her team together in her office, her makeshift command centre for the crisis. Her staff, a dedicated group of individuals who had weathered many storms with her, looked to her for guidance. Despite her injuries, her spirit remained unbroken.

“Listen up, everyone,” she began, her voice steady despite the impending danger. “We need to prepare for the worst. Secure everything that can be blown away, reinforce the windows and doors, and stock up on essential supplies. All the deckchairs and umbrellas, all loose stuff needs to moved and secured indoors. You senior people, take the junior ones in hand and get it organised.”

Her team members nodded in agreement and immediately got to work securing windows, fastening loose items, and collecting emergency provisions. Melanie guided them from her office, supervising the preparations and organizing the team’s actions.

“Would it not be wise to have everyone gather in the restaurant where we could keep an eye on all of them?” I asked.

“That’s the general idea. But some of the guests that are not going to evacuate will most probably stay in their suites.”

“I don’t think that is wise,” I replied. “If a roof gets blown off, we would not know about it.”

“Okay, Ty, let me just put your mind at ease here. I don’t say it is not possible, but all the buildings here at iSigodi were constructed with heavy timber logs and facing out of the prevailing winds. The thatch roofs are constructed with a thirty-degree slope and not the normal fifty-degree slope. You may have also noticed that there is a second smaller little roof overlapping the main roof near the top of the all the roofs.”

“I did notice that and thought it to be a very nice touch to sort of modernise the look and feel of the lodge.”

Melanie, laughed. “Ty, it is there for a practical reason. Why do roofs fly off buildings in high winds?”

“Because of the pressure difference...” I replied.

“Correct. The wind blowing over the roof causes a low pressure above the roof, generating the aerodynamic condition known as ‘lift’. So, the roof gets sucked in the direction of the low pressure, driven by the internal high pressure inside the building. When the wind gets hold of an unprotected corner, you have a flying roof!”

“The same principle that makes an aircraft fly,” I smirked.

“Yes! That little second roof is in fact hiding a ventilation hole that serves the purpose of equalising the inside and outside pressure, and now that we are on the same page ... Do me a favour and go see that Bibi is secured inside the hangar. There are tie-downs all around her, and four hooks set in the walls to the front and back of her. You’ll find all the ropes in the hangar on the back wall shelf.”

“Okay, Mel. Leave that to me and I will also see to it that she is grounded with the anti-static line.”

“Thanks, Ty.”

The sound of the wind became a deafening cacophony, drowning out all other noise. The walls of the building seemed to groan and protest, straining against the onslaught of nature’s fury. Yet amidst the chaos, Melanie and her staff stood resolute, their resolve unyielding in the face of adversity.

Meanwhile, I battled the relentless gale to get inside the hangar. I fought to secure Bibi, the Cessna, to the inside walls and floor of the hangar, my fingers numb with cold and adrenaline. I bound Bibi to the hangar walls with thick nylon ropes, ensuring she would withstand the storm’s wrath. I also made sure that the anti-static line was secured, and that Bibi was properly grounded. Then, closing the two massive hangar doors and securing them with a steel bar across both, I exited through the side door, shut off the main electricity supply at the main switch and locked the side door.

Finally, with Bibi secured and the hangar sealed tight, I turned to face the full force of the storm. The wind whipped at my clothing, threatening to tear me from my feet as I struggled to make my way back to the restaurant. Each step was a battle against the elements, the air thick with the scent of impending danger.

Although the expected centre of the storm would pass far to the north of us, a band of thunderstorms was being driven on the wind out of the southeast from the Indian Ocean.

Sam and the other staff had secured the boats and the floating docks as well as the kayaks. All were brought onto dry land and secured high above the storm water line on the shore.

Through wind-induced watering eyes, I noticed the swells on the lake were much higher and the waves thrashed, pushing up far above the normal waterline of the normally placid lake.

The gale from the southeast had blasted on the ocean, pushing it towards land and the waves to smash through the sandbank that protected the mouth of the Umfolozi river near the St Lucia town on the St Lucia estuary.

Those same forces had pushed the waters of the Umfolozi River back up to Lake St Lucia. The storm surge caused the waters of Lake St Lucia to rise and overflow high onto the banks.

On my way to the restaurant, I ducked into a little alcove relatively sheltered from the howling wind. I took out my cell phone, praying that the cell tower was still functional, and dialled Ash.

“What’s up buddy?”

“It looks like the cyclone is going to hit early and will make landfall about between thirty-five and fifty-eight nautical miles from us. I don’t think it is wise to fly out here,” I shouted above the howling wind.

“I’m aware of it. We got the warning about an hour and twenty minutes ago. We were about to take off when the MET office gave us the ‘good’ news!”

“Well, the wind is going crazy, and the ceiling is down to eight hundred feet. You won’t be able to land on the lake.”

“I got you. MET office says the wind at Richards Bay is in excess of ninety kilometres an hour and picking up. By the time we get there it will be blowing around hundred to hundred and twenty, or maybe more. But, we are coming. We will fly into King Shaka International, way to the south of you and wait it out.”

“Good. Just be safe.”

“If we can’t land at King Shaka, we will divert to Margate. But we will be in easy reach after the storm. Now, how’s Miss Ková?”

“I have her in a wheelchair, but the little rascal is directing operations by hobbling around on bandaged feet. There is still one piece of glass embedded deep in her right foot.”

“Not good! It has to be surgically removed; the medical team will take care of it. If not done locally at the resort, they will evacuate her to a hospital in Richards Bay.”

“Damn! Can your medical team do such a procedure here at the resort? Maybe I must feed her some more Pethidine in the meantime...”

“You fed her Pethidine? And yes! The team is fully equipped to do such a procedure in the field. Besides, she has a fully equipped vet clinic at the resort. It will come in handy.”

“She injected herself with the pethidine and went in a semi-coma. It gave me time to get all the glass I could see out of her feet without her flinching and yelling out in pain.”

“She did not suffer burns, did she?”

“Nope! She was barefoot and stepped into the broken glass that scattered away from the burning part.”

“Lucky...”

“Yeah. Now let me go see that she don’t go and get in any more trouble. I just wanted to give you a heads-up on the weather.”

“It’s appreciated. Now go.”

“Cheers, Ash.”

“Cheers, Ty.”

As I reached the relative safety of the restaurant, the wind seemed to redouble its efforts, howling like a vengeful spirit at our very doorstep. It was clear that the storm was far from over, and we could only cling to each other, united in our determination to weather the tempest and emerge stronger on the other side.

There were twenty-two people in the restaurant: staff and guests. I was relieved to hear from Sam that the guests who did not evacuate decided to weather out the storm in the restaurant with us. Melanie was back in her wheelchair and was talking to Alicia and Helen. Sam was serving drinks to the guests.

“Would you like something to drink, Sir?”

“I’d like some coffee, Sam. But seeing you are busy, I’ll go make some. There may be some others that would like hot coffee too.”

“It’s already taken care of, Sir. There’s a big pot brewing on the percolator back in the kitchen.”

“Okay, Thanks! I’ll head there.”

“All in order, Mister Ty. Just sit down and I’ll get you some.”

“Thanks, Sam,” I thanked him again and walked over to Melanie. Alicia saw me and got up. Mumbling some excuse, she walked off.

“Hello girls!” I greeted.

“Hi, Ty! Come sit down,” Melanie invited, and I sat down to the side of her at the four-seat restaurant table.

“Bibi is safe and secure,” I announced.

“Thanks, Ty. I could not have done it for some stupid reason.”

“No problem, Mel. You must keep off those feet.”

“I feel so useless...”

“Nope! Not useless.”

“What then?”

“Maybe a little hopeless now, but not useless.”

“Can you fly Bibi?”

“I told you I have a two-ten. Same thing. Same operating envelope. Just another designation. The Cessna 205, 206, and 207 were all based on the 210. Only the 210 has retractable landing gear.”

“Have you flown a 206 before?”

“Yes.”

“Bibi is a floatplane ... and you will have quite a time trying to retract her floats.” Giggle.

“Where are we going with this, Mel?”

“Ty, after the storm, fly me to Richards Bay. I need to have this piece of glass surgically removed.”

“I have a better idea.”

“NO! You’re not taking it out! It’s too deep inside my foot.”

“I was not going to do it. I might just faint if I see blood...”

“Comedian! Last night you did not faint!”

“Last night, it was after two brandies...”

“You drank alcohol before you removed the glass out of my feet?”