Misox - or the story of the dragon queen unleashed

Cabbiolo, Misox, Friday, 21 June 2024: I've been spending our traditional women's weekend with a few friends at my uncle's rustico for five years now. It's always in June, when the Groven waterfall, which is just 500 metres from the house, invites us to take a dip. At night, countless fireflies dance through the surrounding summer meadows. A sparkling wonder.

This year, we're once again looking forward to the days together, which are always a pleasant ripple. A colourful bunch of women around 50, some mothers, others child-free. A nice mix. We talk, cook and dance together. We laugh a lot. Nobody has to do anything, we can just be. Some go to bed early, others chat late into the night. A four-handed massage? Of course! Collecting wild herbs? If you fancy it, come along! Off to the waterfall? Always!

Meteo Switzerland measures 64 litres of water per square metre in just 60 minutes.

Only 6 out of 10 women arrive

On this Friday, the first four women arrive at 3.30 pm at the Rustico. There should be ten of us. Four of them won't make it to us. They are stuck in a traffic jam on the A13 motorway and will have to turn back later.

It's been raining all day, sometimes harder, sometimes weaker. Towards the evening, it rains cats and dogs, drifting in heavy clouds towards San Bernardino. Meteo Switzerland measures 64 litres of water per square metre in just 60 minutes.

The lightning flashes at ever shorter intervals. The rolling thunder never stops. At 7.45 pm, the sixth woman joins us. She must have caught the last Postbus that passed through Sorte before the avalanche swept away three houses and completely destroyed the hamlet. I only give her a cursory greeting as my eyes stare mesmerised at the waterfall. A terrifying sight: I've never seen anything like it!

My place of power, the waterfall

I love this waterfall. For me it is the most beautiful. I deliberately write she. In Italian, waterfall is called la cascata, so it has the feminine article. I find that more appropriate: for me, water has a feminine power. It flows and is untamable. I know the Cascata del Groven at any time of year and when I visit Cabbiolo, I write to family and friends: «I'm back at my waterfall.»

As virtuosically as only water can, it usually winds its way through the steep rock face and finally pours into a pool where you can take a wonderful dip. Until this weekend, you could even dare to take a shallow dip from a small ledge.

This little paradise is nestled in a piece of forest with sturdy trees, moss and ferns. In the evening light, mosquitoes dance their round dances and blackbirds chirp brightly. At the beginning, the little river is only a few centimetres deep and then joins up with the valley river, the Moesa, further down.

In the middle, glittering pebbles in shades of grey, white and red form an island of sunshine where you can dream and linger. Even as a little girl, I used to spend hours here. As a mum, it became my place of strength. How many stories my waterfall has told me, but never one so angry.

The dragon queen unleashed

Where there is usually white spray, on this Friday evening it is bubbling black. The air is soaked with earth. Like a dragon queen unleashed, the cascata opens its huge maw: «Smell!» it bellows at us. «You spring from the earth and you return to the earth!»

It rumbles and pushes heavy debris through the narrow crevices, almost threatening to burst. Boulders fall into the basin with full force, causing the otherwise harmless little river to swell into a raging torrent within minutes.

Branches splinter, trees crack and even Falkor, as I called him, is swallowed up. Fuchur was a colourful remnant of the Shankra Festival, which is known beyond the country's borders. Since 2015, it has been held every July in Lostallo, whose municipality Cabbiolo belongs to. The branch, painted as a glittering dragon, has defied all weathers for two years and stood faithfully by the waterfall.

«You are so tiny, so insignificant and so small,» the dragon queen crows at me. «You want to tame me? Ha! I'll scratch your eyes with my dusty breath. I can destroy you in minutes!»

Become humble

I become still. Listen inwards. Endure the angry voice. «She's right,» I think. «How tiny and small we are before this force of nature. And we imagine ourselves to be the crown of creation. To be able to dominate nature. How presumptuous!» It makes me humble.

Or are we ultimately one of the causes? On 25 June, the NZZ wrote in an informative report on the debris avalanche in Sorte: «Climate change means that very intense local rainfall is occurring more frequently. This also increases the risk of debris flows.» Will we have to expect more of these in the future? The last flash floods on the Moesa date back to 1983. Will we be spared again for another 40 years or will the intervals become shorter?

Risotto by candlelight

At 8 p.m., the rain becomes weaker and finally stops completely. We realise that we have neither electricity nor water. We can still eat the risotto. We've prepared it early enough. We gratefully savour the meal in the warm candlelight. I can feel myself slowly relaxing in the company of my friends.

We still know nothing of the destructive force that has raged to the right and left of Cabbiolo. Nothing yet of the four missing people in Sorte, one of whom was rescued on Saturday and another recovered dead on Sunday. Two are still missing today.

I feel sadness inside me, but also signs of anger, wrapped in a soft blanket of gratitude and humility.

We can hear the foaming water of the Cascata del Groven, which flows in a right-hand bend towards Lostallo just 150 metres above our house. The stream bed was widened years ago and provided with a dam. Two firemen clear the torrential river of driftwood and ensure that it does not back up at the small bridge at the end of the village. Without this measure, our cellar would probably have been flooded, like many others in the centre of the village.

We go to bed early. I listen to the wild rumblings of the dragon queen. Her hissing and rumbling accompanies me into my dreams.

A morning as if nothing had happened

We are greeted by a deep blue sky on Saturday morning. The sun is shining and the birds are chirping. I rub the sleep from my eyes and marvel at how quickly everything can change. A moment ago we were in the middle of a storm of the century and now the new day greets us as if nothing had happened. It feels unreal.

Two men from the municipality come by and ask us how we are and whether we have water in the cellar. They tell us for the first time about the debris flow in Sorte and the three houses that were completely destroyed. The water and electricity are now working again. The neighbours inform us that the water is not drinkable, however. We should boil it first.

We see the first images of the extent of the destruction in the media and learn that we are cut off from the outside world in Cabbiolo. We now realise how incredibly lucky we were and reassure our family and friends on the phone, who contact us excitedly.

Contradictory feelings

The neighbours' grown-up sons go out to help the affected villagers pump out their cellars. We stay around the house so that we don't get in anyone's way. We have a barbecue in the afternoon. It feels strange to be sitting and eating together in the most beautiful sunshine while people have lost their lives in the immediate vicinity.

Sadness mingles with relief, curiosity with a longing for silence. I feel sadness inside me, but also signs of anger, a great upset, wrapped in a soft blanket of gratitude and humility.

What does it do to me when Mother Nature awakens the dragon queen in me, who hurls my own emotional entanglements at me?

Looking into your own abyss

My thoughts swirl around: Why are some people in the wrong place at the wrong time? Why are some lucky and others unlucky? Why do we even think in such categories and judge things in dualities of good and bad, right and wrong, winners and losers? Why does the media primarily focus on this one narrative of misfortune and sensation, supplemented by scientific explanations of mudslides and climate change?

A sentence from the classic «Danton's Death» by Georg Büchner makes its way into my head: «What is it in us that hurts, lies, steals and murders?» Yes, what does it do to me when Mother Nature mirrors human spirals of violence so powerfully? Awakening the dragon queen in me, who hurls my own emotional entanglements at me? How do we deal with fear, anger or grief? With our own destructive thoughts and feelings, our own abysses? How do we deal with dying and death?

Find peace

I can't imagine what it's like to lose a loved one from one second to the next. When I think of my children, my partner, my parents, my sisters or my friends, a black hole opens up. I stumble inside and faint. In my thoughts, I send pure love to the relatives of those buried, again and again.

Many find support in faith. I am not really at home in any religion, but I am characterised by Christian values and fascinated (I love the Zeit podcast«Unter Pfarrerstöchtern») by the great treasure trove of stories in the Bible. The idea that something like a divine core, an immortal soul, lives within us fills me with peace. The experience that we also remain connected to loved ones who have gone before us is a powerful one.

I know that we don't always manage to go through life with such an open heart. Not even in family life. But perhaps more and more often?

A miraculous coincidence ensures that I have the book «Im Land der Seele» by Ursula Seghezzi with me this weekend. In it, the author frees a fantastic selection of Grimm fairy tales from their patriarchal guise and opens up a new approach to a spiritual connection with reality. I can warmly recommend it to all seekers.

What the heart sees

I return to my heart space. Wonderful things are happening there. I see helping hands and hear comforting words. People look each other in the eye, touch each other on the shoulders, marvel, laugh, cry, hug. Frozen feelings thaw, unsaid things come to the surface, things are said and clarified. Waves are smoothed, silence returns.

Everyday quarrels fizzle out against such a backdrop. The awareness of what is really important in life is once again deeply anchored. I know that we don't always manage to go through life with such an open heart. Not even in family life. But perhaps more and more often?

The road to Ticino is clear again on Sunday. We take our time packing and then set off. Four women take the train from Bellinzona, one accompanies me in the car on the long journey home through the Gotthard to Zurich. I am very grateful to her. Five hours later, I fall into my partner's arms and soon fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The body reacts with a delay

I wake up on Monday morning with a fever and a headache. My body has a delayed reaction to what I've experienced and the emotional turmoil. I sign off work and continue to listen inwardly. It's bubbling and restless there. I feel insecure, vulnerable, small and powerless. Feelings that I have only been consciously allowing for a few years and not simply pushing away.

I am so happy about how well my children recognise their feelings. How clearly they can name and categorise them.

Then I feel the first signs of panic. My heart beats faster, my breathing becomes shallower, my hands sweat, my eyes wander restlessly back and forth, I'm screaming inside and at the same time I'm frozen and can't move.

This condition is not new to me. In my thirties, I worked hard for several years to recognise and calm the raging and trapped child in me, little Maria, who is awakened by certain triggers.

Listen to your inner voice

I walk slowly to the nearby cemetery. One of my favourite places. The ancient trees there do me good. «I'm here,» says big Maria to little Maria. «Come on, give me your hand.» What do I need at this very moment? What gives me support? How can I free myself from my inner rigidity? How can I shake off the shock and transform?

The wind rustles softly in the treetops. Long cloud formations pass by in the sky and for a fleeting moment I think I see the dragon queen, who sends me a kind smile this time.

I think about my children and how we tell each other when we need a hug. I am so happy about how well they recognise their feelings. How clearly they can name and categorise them. I didn't have the language to do that as a child. It was a different time.

Now I hear my inner voice very clearly: «I want to have my children around me tonight, all three of them. Even the two big ones who have already moved out. I want to hug and kiss them and just be with them.» And that's exactly what we do.