Tara Abrahams-Clivio

March 22 marks the official beginning of spring. Spring, according to Webster's Dictionary, is "the season between winter and summer: in the Northern Hemisphere from the autumnal equinox to the summer solstice... (in temperate zones) the season of the year following winter characterised by the budding of trees, growth of plants, the onset of warmer weather". If this is spring, I'm moving to Alaska for summer.

This spring has been characterised by a hot wind blowing dust in my eyes. The trees are not budding; they are far too parched to think about such an energetic endeavour, not too dissimilar from myself who feel decidedly unproductive in the heat of the mid-day sun. Each day I struggle with the decision to open the windows of my house and let the dust storm in, or to close the windows and create my own personal sauna.
And the fresh green lawns and gardens that usually signal this season, have been replaced this year with crisp, brown, well-dusted vegetation, just barely hanging on for dear life.
The smell of flowers blooming has been replaced by the scent of decomposing animals - fuelled by the heat and spread by the gusts of wind. As I lament over this drought, it occurs to me that the scenes of Kingston are beginning to resemble the scenes of Iraq on CNN. Evidently, we have more in common with this desert nation than just a war.

The frustrating thing about the weather is that we have absolutely no control over it. If will alone could have done it, those afternoons when clouds hovered over, it would have rained. As I sat staring at the grey clouds, sure that they were ready, with all my might willing drops of water to fall on my needy flowers, dust just blew into my eyes. Apart from perhaps the bougainvillea, the rest of us are suffering and helpless.

This feeling of helplessness is something we have become accustomed to. We face the drought as helplessly as we face the illegality that plagues our streets. We employ security companies and feed our large dogs, training them to dislike strangers, barricade ourselves at night, but go to sleep aware that beyond our gates crime is sapping us dry as we sit powerlessly and watch it happen. To preserve our sanity, perhaps the best thing to do is not think about it, just like one day it might rain, one day we might restore order to our streets. Yet this approach is risky: I have lost too many plants to know not to sit and wait for rain.

There is one thing that is certain in life - we need water. If we do not have it, our lives become very uncomfortable, and there are few things worse than water restrictions. Like the lawlessness on our streets, if left unchecked a lack of water will make our environment untenable. In each of our lives we are forced to pay the price for this crime, the cost of security companies, the cost of employees not turning up for work because there is violence in their area and the immeasurable cost of the stress we all face as we worry daily about how this beast will touch our lives. And daily it does, whether by the irritation of the chaos on the streets, the distaste of the unending stream of garbage that litters our public areas, the illegal approach to settlement and development, or the news of violence that will touch us directly or indirectly.

We would not be so helpless to the effects of the drought if we prepared ourselves more effectively. If our reservoirs were larger or even operating at capacity, we would not live in fear or run out of water. If watershed areas were properly maintained, we would not fear a water crisis. So why is it we sit by year after year watching these problems that are turning our home into an unlivable desert, sapping us dry?
Why do we feel so helpless to this demise, like wilted flowers? We are victims to the lawless elements of our society; we live without recourse and on top of it all we are hot and bothered and it is still only spring! In the discussion over new leaders, I am looking for the one with the energy and definite plan to put an end to this drought; one small step at a time, rain or shine.

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