Climate Chronicles Podcast | Season 2, Episode 6
Edited transcript
Introduction
Host
In Nigeria, the arrival of May’s rains usually signals hope. But one terrifying night in Karu, the
sky brought devastation instead.
Today, Jola reflects on that night, the fear of protecting her children in the dark, and the deep
emotional scars left by extreme weather.
Her story is a poignant reminder that behind every climate disaster is a family trying to stay safe.
Here is Jola’s story.
Jola’s story
Narrated by Jola
Jola: “A mother’s climate story”
The month of May in my home country, Nigeria, has always signaled a season of hope. It marks
the beginning of the rains, the time when dusty roads welcome moisture, farmers prepare their
fields, and families anticipate cooler nights after months of relentless heat.
Karu, a rapidly growing city in North-Central Nigeria, experienced a night that would forever
change my relationship with rain.
That evening began like many others. The sky slowly transformed as dark clouds gathered
overhead. Across the community, people interpreted the approaching rain through different
lenses. Farmers saw promise and prosperity after a long dry season. Children anticipated the
excitement of dancing in puddles. Families looked forward to a peaceful night’s sleep under
cooler temperatures.
No one imagined that those same clouds carried a different story. As darkness settled, the wind
arrived first. What began as a gentle breeze quickly became a violent force. Trees bent under its
pressure. Doors rattled. Loose objects tumbled across compounds. The wind howled through
the night at frightening speed, sounding less like nature and more like a warning.
Then came the rain. Not the soft, life-giving rain we had expected, but a furious downpour that
pounded the earth with terrifying intensity. Suddenly, there was a deafening crash. The roof of
Ramatu’s house had been ripped away.
Rainwater poured directly into the house. The place meant to protect the family was exposed to
the storm. Watching in anxiety, I gathered my children close; fear overwhelmed me. Every gust
of wind felt like a threat. Every clap of thunder sounded like an explosion in the darkness.
As a mother, my thoughts were about survival. Would my children be safe? Would the storm
end? Would it extend to our own house? That night seemed endless.
As the cock crowed at dawn and the rain subsided, the devastation became clear. Ramatu’s
household belongings were soaked. Parts of the property were damaged. The emotional impact
was even greater than the physical destruction.
Yet amid the wreckage, something beautiful emerged. Neighbors arrived. Without hesitation,
they offered shelter, comfort, helping hands, and words of encouragement. In the midst of
vulnerability, the community became her strength. A refuge was secured for the family while
repairs were made.
But some storms do not end when the skies clear. For years afterward, I carried an invisible
wound.
Every rainfall became a trigger. Whether it was a heavy storm or a gentle midnight drizzle, sleep
abandoned me. My body remained alert, listening for the sound of wind against the roof. The
fear lingered long after the physical damage had been repaired. The experience reminded me of
J. P. Clark’s famous poem, “Night Rain.” Yet unlike poetry, this was my reality.
Today, I understand that my story is not an isolated experience.
Across Africa and around the world, countless women and children are facing similar realities.
Climate change is making weather patterns more unpredictable. Storms are becoming more
intense. Flooding is increasing. Homes are being destroyed. Livelihoods are threatened.
Families are displaced.
For women, managing households, securing food, and protecting family well-being, climate-
related disasters create a unique burden. Beyond the visible damage lies trauma, anxiety,
displacement, and the challenge of rebuilding lives with limited resources.
Climate change is not only an environmental issue. It is a human story. It is a mother’s story. It
is the story of families who go to bed expecting rain and wake up homeless. It is the story of
children whose sense of safety is washed away by a single storm. It is the story of communities
that must find the strength to recover again and again.
They need partners willing to invest in adaptation, resilience, and recovery. However, resilience
should not be the only safety net available to vulnerable families. As climate challenges
intensify, we must remember that behind every statistic is a human face. More intense
downpours like these are just one symptom of an atmosphere warming due to fossil fuel
pollution.
Behind every storm is a mother trying to keep her children safe. And behind every act of support
is the possibility of transforming fear into hope. My story began with a storm. Today, I share it as
a call to action. Because every woman deserves to feel safe when the rain begins to fall.
Closing
Host
Thank you so much for listening.We hope these stories inspire you, just as they inspired us.
This podcast is part of a project created by New Women New Yorkers and was made possible
thanks to the financial support of Con Edison.
We are deeply grateful for their belief in the power of immigrant women’s stories and for helping
us uplift their voices and dreams.