Things began with a decent amount of Facebook chatter among the Apia expat community. People provided weather updates from both government offices and weather sites, and predictions changed greatly from one hour to the next; at one point, there was an over 50% chance that the tropical depression could form into a cyclone over the weekend. While discussions swirled around the weather forecast, people also shared links to tips on cyclone safety and shared experiences from Cyclone Evan, which hit Samoa in December 2012. For example, I learned that two hours before Cyclone Evan hit, the Government shut off electricity and water as part of efforts to minimize the impact of the impending storm. (If you're interested in learning more, I talk a bit more about Cyclone Evan in my post on Small Island Developing States.)
In these hours, I could really see the blessing and the curse of our information age. I was really grateful for the stream of updates and tips, but I could see how such rapidly changing and varied weather predictions could create confusion and possible panic in more severe weather conditions, especially if they were provided by too many different sources.
Amidst this uncertainty, I had a meeting in another one of the main government buildings. After my meeting, I stopped for a quick chat with the other Fulbrighter. I was discussing with her and one of her office mates, and it finally began to sink in that there really was a chance that a cyclone could hit sometime soon – possibly even that night. And me and one of my house mates had planned on going shopping for emergency supplies the next afternoon. I could feel a knot of nerves forming in the pit of my stomach.
Luckily, nothing happened that evening, and I was able to set out the next afternoon to get supplies: canned and other non-perishable food, large bottles of water, flashlights, batteries, candles, matches. Upon returning home, we set aside our cyclone stash in one of our back cupboards and read through the cyclone prep list the Australian High Commission had sent to the Australian volunteers. After seeing that we could put a check next to all of the essential items on that list, I felt like I could relax a little, wait, and see.
By late afternoon, the weather predictions had downgraded to heavy rain and strong wind warnings, and as I was reading in our living room, the skies opened up and a heavy rain pounded on our rooftop and began to create rising puddles in our yard. Amidst the loud, steady pings of rain against our roof, I got an e-mail notification: the US Embassy had sent an alert with information on current conditions and safety tips to all US citizens registered with the Smart Traveler Enrollment Program (STEP).
After a few hours, the rain had largely subsided. A few of us decided that we could do with something sweet, so we headed out for a quick stop to an ice cream shop in town. While we knew that the rain was heavy and had flooded patches of our yard, we were not expecting the level of water that had creeped up in certain streets of downtown Apia. The sides of certain streets had flooded, with water starting to work its way into a few lower shop entrances. To get to the ice cream shop, we waded through ankle deep water, and while I heartily enjoyed my sundae, we all agreed that in the future, it would be better not to repeat such a quest right after such heavy rainfall.
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| As soon as we reached central Apia, we realized that we had probably not chosen the best time for an impromptu ice cream run. |
The rest of the weekend had a few more episodes of heavy rain, but was quiet and uneventful compared to the confusion and uncertainty at the end of the week. Overall, the experience made for a very useful “cyclone drill.” It forced me to really think about my cyclone strategy, stock up on essential emergency items, and learn a few tips for any other more severe weather that may come our way.
To finish off, here’s another kernel of Samoan 101:
‘O fea ‘e te nofo ai? (Where do you live?)
‘Ou te nofo i Vaivase-Tai. (I live in Vaivase-Tai.)
