This morning caught me wonderfully off guard. When I stepped outside the air was cold and damp. There was something magical about the coolness of it all. My senses were overwhelmed with freshness. Overwhelmed to the point where I almost ceased to function. I just stood there, in my pajamas (en route to shower!) breathing in the magic of cold.
For months the land has been beyond dry. Everything in sight desiccated into a mere trace of itself, people included. What’s left of the grass has been crunching underfoot, threadbare cows gnawing at it tediously. The roads gave off a smell of chalk, the dust on them so thick it floods everything, even your bellybutton…seriously. Skin has turned to scales, book spines split, shoe soles come undone.
Yet miraculously the rain season has finally begun here in Kenya. Already tiny patches of green have started appearing. Within a fortnight the landscape will be completely transformed. It’s astounding how quickly the grass bounces back. Stretches of dead tussock will soon be pristine fields of green. It changes everything. Moisture in the air means you can breathe again. When you inhale your lungs fill with the forgotten pleasure of actual air. Humid air. Minus dust and dried dung.
It’s a new beginning. The whole country comes to life again and starts anew. It’s a chance for new life, new changes, maybe even a pair of new shoes – ones that don’t mind a little mud! And of course, a chance to crank Toto as loud as it goes on your Ipod speakers and enjoy the pure, genuine tackyness of agreeing with every word they sing…