A Storm in the South

A family contemplating a walk in the Malaysian rain forest. In the UK, when you have

visitors, what do you do on a Saturday afternoon but go for a walk in the countryside. So, with grandparents visiting in Kuala Lumpur, the family of five small boys, their parents and grandparents set off for an adventure.

The clouds are grey overhead, they usually are in KL. There’s no point consulting the

weather app to judge the wisdom of your walk as every day it forecasts clouds and

thunderstorms, the little lightning symbol rarely leaves the cloud one.

The family pulls up in the carpark, spilling out of the car, milling around putting on socks and trainers, trying to force feet that usually go free into the confined space of shoes, making sure each boy has their sunhat, which they resolutely refuse to wear, is covered in sunscreen, also which they battle against having applied and has their water bottle in its strapped holder looped over their shoulder, which they reluctantly agree is a good idea.

Grandparents stand slightly aside, watching, faintly bemused by the chaos, ready to set off ages ago.

Finally, all are ready, and the family set off for the path which winds between a breezeblock toilet block, surrounded by foliage aiming to claim the space back for the forest and an open-sided mosque allowing the little air that there is to flow through and maybe bring some refreshing. Humidity is high, and before the orange-sanded path begins to climb steadily upwards, sweat runs down the backs of the necks, gathering at the T-shirt seam and causing a darkening of the material. Then the odd sensation of sweat running down the back of the legs. The family hasn’t quite reached the stage of many who walk in the forest of placing a rolled-up towel around the back of the neck to catch the moisture, but they do have towels

in the backpack, ready to bring out to mop up sweat during each frequent drink and snack stop.

The path of orange sand and gravel rises gently at first, then steeply, gullies at the sides ready to direct water as it inevitably rushes downwards in a frequent storm. It’s never quiet on a country walk in the Malaysian forest, cicada’s shout so loudly and in waves as you pass by. Birds call from the tree tops and foliage, and the occasional monkey chatter can be heard in the distance. Mosquitoes buzz around threatening to puncture any skin not covered with powerful smelling ‘Mosiguard’.

As the family walk, they admire trees with leaves the size of serving platters, vines growing from somewhere high above, twisting and turning in odd contortions as they force their way towards the ground so that you could pretend to be Tarzan and swing on them, risking a sore bottom as they snap somewhere in the canopy and deposit you un-ceremonially on the ground. Enormous butterflies flit and float amongst the leaves searching for flowers to feed from, ants the size of mice march across the path, causing the family to stand in a circle and peer down at them. A millipede as long as a 10-year-old’s shoe, a spider the size of a hand’s span sitting in it’s web strung in the bushes, a copper-backed lizard sunning itself in the dappled sunlight that stretches down through the trees.

I remember at school when I was learning to draw, I’d draw a tree as a brown stick with a ball of green at the top. My teacher would tell me that there’s no such thing as a lollipop tree. The Malaysian rain forest proves my teacher wrong. There are lollipop trees!! They have long, long brown trunks that reach up and up with a round bunch of branches and leaves at the top, trying to reach the canopy to fight for the best space to get the most sunlight. Then there’s the ‘crown of shyness’, trees of the same species that grow together and as they grew up and up and spread out their branches and leaves, they refuse to touch each other so that as you stand below and look directly up, you see a patchwork of tree shapes with white gaps between where the sky shows through.

Gradually, the family noticed that the grey clouds were intensifying. The shining sun had gone, so there was no need for the sunhats now. The air had thickened, and moisture levels were so high that each breath condensed in the nose and throat as the family squeezed out as much oxygen as possible from between each water droplet. There was a rumble in the distance; a storm was gathering.

At a short cut that follows the path of a steep down, bouldery stream then crashes through undergrowth to come out near the carpark, the father and oldest son suggest that they take the cut to collect the car while the others continue along the wide path. The two could then bring the car to meet the rest of the party where the wide path comes out of the forest, meaning that they wouldn’t have to walk the long road back to the carpark. The plan is agreed upon and the two set off. The others carry on, slightly subdued. The wildlife, sensing the approaching storm, have disappeared into the undergrowth and amongst the trees.

Cicadas continue to shout, but the birds have gone quiet, and there are no monkey calls. The usual total stillness of the air begins to stir, leaves begin to rattle and shift, hanging down vines sway, clattering together, another rumble.

The clouds thicken and darken further, beneath the cover of the trees, along the orange path of the forest floor, sunlight that so recently had sparkled through leaves causing heightened green colour is now gone, the undergrowth is a uniform dark green. The whole forest is under deep shadow, creation is holding it’s breath, knowing what is coming next, anticipating a violent onslaught.

Suddenly, wind that precedes a tropical storm rushes in. The canopy above takes the full force as the treetops are buffeted and sway against the gusts, loose leaves whip downwards then gather in stirred up spirals above the forest floor. Hair that was plastered to the head with sweat begins to flap in all directions. The trees create barriers, then tunnels, then corkscrews for the wind as it careers this way and that, dragging leaves, twigs and anything loose with it. A flash of lightning, causing a momentary eerie brightness, followed seconds later by a crash of thunder, loud as it reverberates around the hills, bouncing off and back.

The family moves closer together, trying not to show each other fear. Large droplets of water begin to fall around the party as they pick up their walking speed. Rapidly the drops increase in volume, the canopy above giving way, unable to act as an umbrella holding off the water, as it cascades down in a deluge, splashing up from the path soaking the party from the bottom up as well as from above. The orange path turns quickly from dry sand to sodden mud, the gullies filling with water and creating rivulets flowing downwards. The family rush on, forgetting to be worried about getting wet or muddy, splashing through puddles, looking nervously around waiting for the next flash of light and crack of thunder, straining to listen above the howl of the wind for splintering wood that could mean a tree or branch tumbling down. Fear takes hold, lightning flashes ahead, thunder crashes seconds later, another flash behind, one to the left, another to the right. Hearts are beating fast, the

littlest boys take hold of their mother’s hand, grandparents lag behind, anxiety etched on the faces.

Then, a verse springs to mind and is spoken out.

‘Then the LORD will appear over them; his arrow will flash like lightning.

The Sovereign LORD will sound the trumpet; he will march in the storms of the south, the LORD Almighty will shield them.’

Focus shifted. Here is the Sovereign LORD, marching in this storm of the south. The

lightning is his arrows, flashing, the thunder his trumpet. He is appearing over us and

shielding us. Fear at the possible destruction around them melts away. Instead, awe at the majesty and splendour of the storm, flashes of lightning across the sky, crashing, rolling thunder echoing around the hillside, trees bending and shaking in the wind, water rushing downwards, all, instead of inducing fear, reminds them of the power, might and strength of the LORD Almighty. If he is in the storm, there is nothing to fear.

Someone broke into a song, ‘Our God is a great big God, our God is a great big God, our God is a great big God and he holds us in his hands.’ They all join in, lifting their heads, allowing the rain to wash away the last traces of fear, un-wrinkling the anxiety from their faces.

Picking up their feet they dance through the puddles and streams as they shout out the song, joining their voices to the sound of the storm in worship to the LORD Almighty.

Around a corner they see the end of the path, through the trees, the car was just pulling up.

Holding hands in a line, they run the last stretch together, splashing through the mud and water, hearts pumping, laughing, singing, all fear gone. Pulling the car doors open, they tumble in, thankfully seizing the outstretched towels offered. The two in the car were bone dry, having made it back to the car before the rain started. They had had their own adventure, climbing down the boulders of the riverbed in a rush to make it back before the rain came, causing torrents of flood water to cascade down.

All were relieved, exhausted, exhilarated and touched by the knowledge that they had

encountered a little of the might of the Almighty, Sovereign LORD.