And how! The Long Rains have shown their teeth since they arrived late on the 28th February. They were initially very welcome because the Short Rains of late 2017 failed to materialise, making Nairobi a dust bowl. Everything had a gritty feel and whether the water had washed clothes or bodies, it ended up the same shade of African earth...
Naturally, this being Africa and Africa never doing anything by halves, the first two weeks of March suffered devastating downpours, flooded streets and fields, collapsed bridges and the Rift Valley cracked a little further, right across the Nakuru road and through houses innocently straddling the well hidden fracture.
The rains eased to the occasional drizzle and we felt the season was probably behind us when we scooted down to South Africa for two weeks. Wrong on so many levels, the heavens opened the minute we left and the deluge hasn't stopped. Yet again, open pieces of land resemble rice paddies, whole sections of road are under water, fast gushing streams splash where pavements should be and the mud, oh the mud. Glutinous, sticky, red gloop clings to everything it touches, filling tyre treads and making even Pugly, our little 4x4 Rav, slide to and fro. I've rapidly learned two things - wear wellies 'tween house and car and tread carefully; never be further than a rapid hand grasp away from something solid to cling on to. This mud not only sucks the shoes off your feet, it is a gelatinous ice rink of slipperiness. And it simply will not come off, it has to be painstakingly dug out of shoes and tyres.
We heard over the weekend that the rains are set to last another six weeks, a full month longer than usual. It's not all rain, though. The sun comes out to play quite frequently, making everything steam gently and for a few hours we can bask in the pleasure that only sunlight on your face and arms can bring. Then, pow, the heavens open again.
Him Outdoors' latest project is building an outdoor covered area which is a work in progress and still lacks a roof therefore social engagements at home are tricky to say the least. Friday afternoon and Saturday blazed warm and bright and we felt confident enough to invite our next door neighbours round for sundowners. Playing safe, we set out the chairs and snacks very last minute when we thought we could get away with a garden event. We'd no sooner all sat down then we were gathering snacks, drinks, chairs and ourselves, galloping to the teeny covered veranda we have as the Rain Gods blessed our gathering with intermittent sprinkles.
An hour later another guest arrived and we felt brave enough to try the garden again as the skies were clear, which lasted long enough for us to set everything up before doing the rain fandango yet again. This time, it didn't ease for hours and when sundowners (ha, ha, ha) drew to an end at about 21h30, we had four people facing instant immersion in the dash from our front door to theirs. "Make a gate in the fence between your door and mine!" Emma suggested. In the meantime, we settled for an umbrella relay. Christina went first, then tossed the brollie back over the fence along with one of hers for the next lot of runners. Shrieks of 'watch the mud at the gate' competed with the drumming of heavy rain on the mabati (corrugated iron) roofs.
Bless the rains down in Africa goes the song and for sure, rain is always welcome here for those in solid houses with a sturdy roof. How the poor street vendors in Karen keep smiling as they brave the wet, desperately draping their goods with pieces of plastic and dashing through puddles to take their wares to customers sitting warm and dry in their cars I do not know. As always, the cheerful, uncomplaining resilience of Africans leaves me warm and fuzzy and I will not for a moment complain about my ruined suede shoes or squelchy, mud covered feet.
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