14 June, 2014
Nature is full of surprises! Man can prepare in some instances, but mostly he is at the mercy of the elements. Sometimes he must bear the full brunt of Nature's fury, and sometimes there is no mercy.
It was getting late in the afternoon. We were on the outskirts of Yuma, Arizona, on a summer vacation. There was my grandfather, my grandmother, my mother, and I, traveling cross-country in a Volkswagen - pulling a small trailer.
We travelled the country in several trips, and doing so economically by camping in a tent whenever and wherever possible. Staying in State and National Parks mostly, it was a great way to see the U. S., and we even took trips into parts of Canada and Mexico, giving our jaunts a very international flavor.
Whenever there was a threat of bad weather, we usually opted for a night in a motel. It seemed a sure thing that this would be a motel night, judging from what at first appeared to be a squall-line approaching from the distance.
Just as we reached the city limits I saw a motel off on the left, and I told my mother, who reacted quickly and we pulled in.
My grandfather quipped: "Looks like it's gonna come up a DOWNPOUR! If it doesn't rain, it'll sure pass up a wonderful opportunity!"
My mother registered us, and we pulled around to our room, carefully backing the little trailer almost up to the door.
We opened up the trailer to begin unloading our suitcases. I went to get some items from the car when I looked at the highway. There was a line of dust or sand being blown up by the wind.
That's what I thought it was. I was sure there was a very heavy rainstorm immediately following, so I warned my folks that we'd soon get a "trash-mover and a gully-washer," as my mother would say.
I saw the dust kick up along the highway, and I shouted a warning to watch for it. I had no idea what was in store for us.
The wind picked up and blew furiously... then came the dust!
It started with some grains of sand stinging our faces as we continued to take items from the trailer.
Within a minute or two, dust and sand filled the air. It was so thick we could hardly see in front of our faces. We could not hear each other speak; even shouting was useless over the roar of the storm.
It got so intense we had to stop unloading and ran for the safety of the room. The wind got even stronger then, rattling the windows and door, while outside the storm raged in full fury!!
The poor little car was outside in a sandstorm with gale-force winds. Whatever we did not get by then we'd just have to do without until this thing subsided.
We imagined we could hear thunder, although the loud whining and roaring of the wind made us wonder if it really was thunder.
We were coughing by now, and the taste and grit of dirt was in our mouths. In fact, it was in our noses, in our ears, and in our eyes as well. The air stunk of dirt, and we were spitting it out into tissues and the lavatory.
Soon the dust that had blown into the room had settled, dissipated, or had been filtered out by the air conditioner.
We all were quite a sight to see: black-faced like coal miners from all the sand. What was needed more than anything was a shower!
We took turns in the shower, and we were so dirty from the dust storm that the water turned brown when we first began to take a rinse. We were so dirty we each took first a quick shower, then a longer one.
The storm raged for quite some time, but eventually ended, and we had a good night's sleep. All through the night, we could still taste and smell and feel the gritty texture of the sand and dirt.
The next morning all traces of the sandstorm had vanished, except for a bit of sand piled up in small drifts along the wall of the motel. There was still that musty, dirty smell in the air, and we were still washing grit out of our hair and faces when we showered a third time that morning.
When we checked the car, we got another surprise: the storm had literally sandblasted the paint off of the very front, and did so almost down to bare metal!
What we experienced was what is now known as a HABOOB (هَبوب) an Arabic term meaning a scouring, which is exactly what that storm did to our car that evening.
Forty-four years later, I saw a fascinating television documentary on the Oklahoma Dust-Bowl. I listened intently to how those poor, unfortunate people described their ordeals with dust storms. As they spoke, I relived in my mind that dusty, dirty day In Arizona, when I had the very same experience.
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