It was dark. Everything was pitch black. You couldn’t see your hand if you raised it to your face and the rain was hitting hard. It felt like the roof was going to cave in. “Oh God”, Aisha prayed, please save our mud houses”.




The emergency  centre had predicted floods in most of the Northern states that year. It was not a secret that most of the architecture was of mud, or at least most of it where the peasants lived. The winds alone had removed peoples’ roofs. The trees had been cut down for coal and firewood and there were almost no trees to serve as wind breakers… and the deserts kept encroaching. The state governments in the North had embarked on tree planting campaigns, but only one out of twenty trees actually survived. The weather was too dry and…

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