Al-Qalam 
After a stressful year, a quick getaway in nature can do wonderful things for the soul, as Ismail Suder found out while camping in a downpour.
So there I was, lying in my canvas rooftop tent in the middle of a torrential rain storm and wondering, ‘What the heck was I doing here!’
Let me explain. Earlier in the day, while lying snugly in my warm bed at my Durban city apartment, I felt a sudden urge to confront the elements head-on.
The weather forecast predicted over 25 mm of rain—that’s a lot of rain by any standards. My bright idea was to travel to the nearest campsite and ‘test’ whether my expensive new rooftop tent, recently installed on my Suzuki Jimny 4×4, would remain waterproof against a heavy downpour—or not!
I stood on the balcony of my flat and gazed at the dark skies. Rain was threatening. After much debate in my head, I decided not to be a wimp and just do it. Should the idea ever flop, I thought, then at least I can take comfort in the phrase of having ‘tried and failed than failed to try’.
After grabbing a quick pack of whatever food, snacks and drinks I could find, I headed off to the Bluff Eco Park, a mere 10-minute drive just up the hill. The Bluff Eco Park offers a variety of budget-friendly accommodations set under a tranquil canopy of subtropical dune forest flora.
I set up the canvas awning on the Jimny, pulled out the mini portable stove and made me some steaming hot coffee – and polished off a half-eaten steak pie.
At last, I was ready to ‘test’ the robustness of my rooftop tent. “Bring it on”, I mumbled while looking up at the thick grey clouds.
Barely had I said those words, the heavens opened up, and the rain belted down, more like a waterfall…and not even the awning could protect me from being drenched. And like a water-logged rabbit, I scurried up the ladder to my tent. After a quick change into dry clothes, I lay my head on the comfy pillow and enjoyed 30 minutes of downpour that sounded like a symphony on the roof. The pitter-patter of rain on canvas are amongst the cosiest sounds in nature, and I relished every moment until I was lulled into sleep – even though it was for only an hour. Thankfully, the tent remained dry throughout the night.
The main challenge of camping in a storm is to find that brief respite to do important things – like cooking up supper in low light – before the heavens decide to open up again. The braai can wait, I said and went for the quicker option – the last four slices of pizza heated in a frying pan. (Who knew pizzas tasted so good in cold and light drizzle?)
Then I was faced with another challenge: How to climb the slippery steel steps to the top of my tent without falling and breaking my back. With mission accomplished, I turned out the lights and slept until at midnight when an earth-shattering thunder jolted me awake, and for a brief moment, I wondered what on earth I was doing here.
My mind immediately crossed over to the Zionist genocide in Gaza. If a little thunder had shaken me, how are thousands of displaced people enduring days after days of horrific bombardments for 14 months? How are they enduring the explosions of buildings and tents amidst the roar of F16 fighter jets breaking the sound barrier? And yet they recite in absolute faith: ‘Hasbunallahu wa ni’mal wakeel’ (Sufficient for us is Allah. And (He is) the best Disposer of affairs)
The next day, at Fajr, the birds broke into song. The rain eased into a drizzle and I reflected on the peace and quiet away from the noise of the city and constant war updates from Al Jazeera.
The brief getaway gave me a moment to ease my anxiety about the ongoing genocide, afforded me a chance to reflect, to make earnest Duas in the silence, to rethink, and to energise enough to be able to cope with the next onslaught of war news.
*For an audio-visual essay, visit the Instagram page of @jimny_go_afrika
