Arrr, the grim tally of Cyclone's mischief in Mayotte be still a foggy mystery, matey!
2024-12-20
Avast ye! The scallywags be sayin' that 35 souls have met Davy Jones, but it could swell to the thousands, arrr! Yet in the capital, ye won’t find a tear shed nor a search for lost mates—just a jolly good time, as if it's a merry tavern brawl!
Ahoy, mateys! Gather 'round and lend me yer ears, for I be bringin’ ye news from the faraway isle of Mayotte, where calamity hath struck like a cannonball straight to the gut! The officials, them scallywags, be spoutin’ that the death toll be a mere 35, but mark me words, it could rise like a tide to the thousands! Aye, that be a number fit to make even the fiercest pirate tremble in his boots!But lo and behold! In the bustling capital, ye’d think it be a merry day at the tavern, for there be no signs of mournin’ or weepin’. Nay, the good folk be carryin’ on like naught be amiss, not a soul talkin’ of searchin’ for their lost kin! Have they all been drinkin’ from the same bottle o’ rum, or be they just too busy swabbin’ the decks to notice the storm brewin’ on the horizon?