Big Bheki, defying expectations, has not slowed down and has transformed into an "intense" tropical cyclone—the second-highest classification for such storms. Wind speeds have exceeded 200 km/h. Although we’ve now entered the “cone of uncertainty,” we still hope that the optimistic forecasts will hold true and that Bheki will lose some momentum before reaching us.

Since the first mention of the approaching cyclone, I’ve been haunted by a hazy childhood memory: the unsettling sense of an impending catastrophe. I followed this thread of thought, deep into the labyrinth of my troubled mind, trying to pinpoint the source of this unease. And you know what I found? Fillyjonk from the Moominvalley.

Tove Jansson wrote the Moomins during World War II. While her stories always had happy endings, they carried a sense of darkness, gently preparing children for the unpredictability of the real world, its sadness and fear. She also illustrated her own tales, and the one about a tornado approaching Fillyjonk’s home deeply resonated with little Carol. Filled with unease, I would stare wide-eyed at the catastrophic drawing over and over again.

“You were talking about the wind," the Fillyjonk said suddenly. "A wind that carries off your washing. But I'm speaking about cyclones. Typhoons, Gaffsie dear. Tornadoes, whirlwinds, sandstorms... Flood waves that carry houses away... But most of all I'm talking about myself and my fears, even if I know that's not done. I know everything will turn out badly. I think about that all the time. Even while I'm washing my carpet. Do you understand that? Do you feel the same way?”

‘Vinegar is usually good,’ said Gaffsie, staring into her teacup. ‘Carpets don’t lose their color if you add a little vinegar to the rinse.’”

Perhaps, thanks to Tove Jansson’s stories, I’ve grown into Gaffsie. So here I am, waiting patiently for the next update from the meteorological station—while hanging up the washing.