This time of year, sky sits way above the earth. One or two clouds taint the canvas of light blue that carpets the sky above me. The sun sits way up high in the sky. On the land, everything is still green. The muddy roads of the wet season have turned into dust and will attack anyone or anything that comes in its path. The ants have left the kitchen for good but now the snakes have come to visit.
The silence is piercing. The sound of children playing football. The odd cry of a baby. A screeching set of wheels, the birds chirping are the only distant sounds that interrupt this peaceful silence, along with the gentle sound of trees rustling in the breeze.
I am carefree, sitting in the sunshine, with the warm rays on my back and my legs, sipping on a cup of boiling hot tea. I hear a scurry. A squirrel. I smile and watch it for a moment scamper high up into the tree behind me. To my right, I See a group of women, dressed so beautifully and in bold colours,chatting away. Each of them have a small baby on their backs, babies so small with little woolen hats on their heads that make them look so much cuter.
The sound of Bob Marley came blaring out of a boombox somewhere. I walked through the markets, avoiding the mud as best I could. People stared. Some yelled out. Most, however, minded their own business and went about selling and buying. Two men were having a fist fight. Of course, having a mzunggu (white person) at these markets was a rarity. A treat. Something that never happens. This meant I really was the key attraction of the day.
A group of dirty looking children came running, out of nowhere and touched my hand. “How are you?” I asked, “I am fine and you madame?” they asked (this is a typical exchange). I told them I needed footballs. They started laughing, I was trying to balance bananas, oranges and potatoes. One of the girls took my potatoes and carried them on her head and grabbed my free hand and directed me to follow her. I was hot. Sweaty hot. We walked fast, avoiding the mud. The bananas and oranges were heavy and I was parched. I longed for something cold, an ice block. Something to ease the discomfort.
I was not sure where we were heading, but I put my trust in this ten year old girl. We dodged the crowds, walking in the opposite direction to most. Soon, the market was behind us and we were entering the slum settlement that was about a kilometre behind the last stall. We walked in the sweaty hot heat for what felt like hours until we reached a hut. She told me to stay put, went inside and came out about five minutes later with six footballs – made from plastic bags filled with rubbish and string tied around them.On the outside of each, was a Manchester United Sticker. Blessing, (the young girl), explained that her and her brother made these footballs because he was captain of their football team (MAN-U) and that he was responsible for providing the balls. We negotiated a price, and I bought all six balls and promised to come and watch them play the following afternoon.
The ladies move on and I see two men, gardeners, laughing and having a much needed break from the hard outdoor work under the strong African Sun. I know that in a few hours, the neighbourhood boys will be coming to my door to sell pineapples. Big, juicy, Pineapples. I make sure I have my Kwacha ready for them. I know this also means I will soon be heading down to the football field to watch MAN-U take on Chelsea.
Despite the warmth and heat from the sun, I feel a shiver as a cool breeze embraces me and sticks around for a while. I refill my cup of tea to warm my insides up.
I have been up for a while and outside, but the cool breeze makes me want to curl up with a good book under a big warm blanket back in my bed. I contemplate the idea and quickly run my mind through the collection of books I have and decide which one to read. Excited, I pack up outside and prepare to spend a lazy few hours reading…..
Just as I get settled, the washing machine beeps. Begrudgingly, I remove myself from my book and blanket and attend to the chores that have to be done. Before i know it, the day is half over and I have managed to get through less than one chapter of my book. I sigh and start organising myself to go watch the ‘A-league’ finals. Just before I walk out the door, I see the book over on the table and place it nicely back where it belongs.
“Tomorrow” I say, to no one in particular, as I walk out the door, get on my bike and head for the football field.
