Worldy Worded

“BOOM” thunder clapped loud and shook the house while a blinding white streak of lightning filled every window, as if to announce the presence of the very universe surrounding my home.

The first storm after the dry winter months in South Africa is always exciting and terrifying all at once. As rain started to pelt the roof and quench the dusty red earth, electricity filled the air with a spectacular show of lights and fire, taking the night sky as their stage.

From what I could hear on the tin roof, it didn’t rain for long. But then such forceful storms rarely ever last long. The superstitious say it is because the clouds are running away from the Heaven and havoc they leave in their wake.

When it was all over I opened my window and stuck my head out as far as I could. Taking a deep breath, the musty smell of wet earth and relieved succulents stung in my nose. I loved it. It was the smell of Africa, awakening after a scorched slumber.

This world was so far from the one I had previously known, a life far north, which I had momentarily left to follow the calls of Africa. I imagined the frosted mornings of a Canadian winter. The ice crystals hanging from the eve of my roof, the snow piled high on the driveway, the naked branches swaying stiffly in the wind. What a grave contrast to the heat and deep colors that surrounded me now. Only a year ago that white-washed world was my reality, today it is reduced only to a foggy dream.

With South Africa as my birthplace, as it was that of our very species, I could not deny myself the urge to explore it. To watch on as my centuries-lost siblings dance to the beat of their culture, to share the gaze for a few seconds too long with a passing elephant, to breathe in the smells of the dry fynbos in the veld.

As the wet earth steamed under the glare of the rising sun, I examined the destruction of the storm strewn around me. As if the rain had washed clean the pretenses of a cultural divide, the rainbow nation emerged with me to indiscriminately clear the mess and for all to rejoice in the relief of the rains.

With all the wonder around me, I realize that Africa, like an eager child, has so much to share with those willing to pay attention. Some days I wonder how I ended up in this incredible place, however most days I only rejoice in the experience, much like with first rains after a long dry season.

I may not know how I ended up here, but certainly Africa has lured me to its heart, and changed mine irrevocably.