Africa's Calling - Long Distance

I am home once more, in step with my barefoot childhood. I can feel the silken crunch of grass as it bends beneath my feet, bouncing back with its usual resilience as I move beyond its cool fingered touch. Our Mother watches from the veranda as Sheila and I, with our makeshift cloaks, spin round ever faster, in tune to the rhythm of Africa beating beneath our receptive feet.

I feel the air thicken around me, each breath I take becomes clouded with perception. I come to an abrupt halt, as the world continues spinning inside my head. Steady now, I look for Sheila, only to find her standing quietly by, meeting my gaze as we smile in agreement. We rush over to our Mother in a race to get to her first, echoes of each other. Our voices ring out with excitement yelling, 'It's going to rain!'...'It's going to rain!'

Our Mother settles back in her chair smiling at our exuberance. Securing our cloaks beneath our chin, we rest against the warmth of the sun-kissed veranda, debating who will feel the first raindrop. The outcome is always different; we take it in turns to win, not in any way deliberate, that's just how it was. We accepted that fact long ago.

The sun waves goodbye, blushing like a virgin on her wedding night, lighting the sky with shades of fire which gently fade into the distant horizon. Night falls silently, spreading a mantle of darkness across the sky. As its blue tones deepen, our eyes mirror the twinkling of the stars so high above us.

The world slows down, a hush descends. This land holds it's breath in wonder. As the wind swirls around us whispering, 'Shh...' we raise our eyes to the sky in reverential accord. The first splash of rain plops down hitting the ground with a heavy splat, followed by another. We squeal in excitement, rubbing each cool drop onto our warm skin. Momentum gathers pace, the rain begins to fall in earnest and in minutes we are soaked.

Soon we are spinning around again, twirling in gay abandon around the wet grass, our faces lit by each jagged bolt of lightning followed closely by the roar of thunder. The earth has unleashed her pent up emotions upon this land. It demands our attention, drowning out all other daily events, magnificently unashamed by the depth of her tears.

Africa has the most majestic thunderstorms. Nature has shed many tears there; it still continues to do so. It is the forgotten continent, a shameful secret to those who would rather pretend she didn't exist, but for those who love her, it is showered in blessings far beyond what can be perceived from mere words.