The Confounding Case of the Climate Crisis by Owen R. Liu

Author:Owen R. Liu
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tumblehome Learning, Inc.
Published: 2014-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

“Time to eat!” said Hasan, jumping up. “My mother cooks very good meals.” The group splashed out of the water and left the basket at the shore as Hasan and Rifat led the way to their house.

Mrs. Hamid welcomed the teenagers into the house, scolding at their wet clothes and gasping when they related the story of the crocodile. But she took it in stride, smoothing Rifat’s black hair and smiling and nodding at Anita. She showed them to seats at a long table outside the back door of the house. As the late afternoon light dimmed over the village river, Mrs. Hamid brought out platters of omelet with chili and green peppers, and a savory bowl of squash, rice, and spices that she named vegetable tehari, with onions, cardamom and cloves.

“I hope you will not find this food too hot for you. I am told Bangladesh food is perhaps the hottest in the world, so I used fewer peppers than usual.”

“I love spicy food,” said Anita, but a moment later she gulped and fanned her tongue as sweat rolled down her temples.

“Oh dear,” said Mrs. Hamid, handing each of them a small glass of water. “Would you like a simple omelet instead?” Anita and Benson looked at her guiltily, and she just smiled and disappeared back into the kitchen.

As they ate, they talked to Mr. Hamid. “How much does it rain every year?” Benson asked.

“Sometimes more, sometimes less, Allah, Allah. His ways are mysterious. Sometimes one meter, sometimes five. Some years are more dangerous than others.”

“Are there other ways to fight the floods, besides growing vegetables in the gardens?” asked Benson.

“In some places they are building concrete levees along the riverbanks,” said Mr. Hamid.

Rifat jumped in and described new jobs he was training for in school. Computers, for example, were being used to project weather reports out into rural areas. Even if they ended up simply written on a big board, people still received warnings of floods and storms earlier.

Another job was learning to harvest rainwater for the town.

“You need more water?” cried Benson in amazement.

Hasan lifted his water glass and swirled it around. “We have too much water, but we can’t drink it. Water flows in from the sea and contaminates our river water with salt. No one should drink salt water.”

“And when the rains flood the towns,” Rifat added, “wastes overflow from latrines and sewers, and contaminated water can even flow into our wells. If we drink it we’ll all get sick. So yes, it’s a challenge to find safe, fresh water. But look over there.” He pointed to a structure a hundred yards away, where a metal tube poked up fifteen feet from the ground. A ladder ran up the side of the tube. “That’s one of our tube wells. The opening is so high the river will never overflow into it. So we climb up high to reach down low for our water.”

Hasan disappeared for several minutes and then returned pulling a new rolling water wheel he had just built for his mother.

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