16 Jan 2014
Driving in the cool of evening under the glare of the moonlight, I can't help but appreciate and enjoy what our sub-Saharan version of winter is. Nor can I ignore the temptation to project onto the scenes around me, more familiar winter-esque visions to feel more at home. Moonlight gleaming off a metal corrugate roof becomes a thin layer of snow as does the moonlit sandy path glowing a dim blueish white. Small spirals of smoke curl up gently and effervescently from small burning piles made for warmth or for deleting garbage and brush. The air is crisp. As are the colored leaves which can snap off their branches in a chilly wind. But the gusts bring warmer and warmer air from somewhere far off, reminding us that 'winter' here is short lived. And that the moonlight reflecting off of metal roofs and sand is in fact just that, moonlight.
It's late now. I am chilly under my thin blanket. In my winter hat and pj's I make a ball to stay warm. In the distance I hear her. The whoop whoop of the hyena's cry. And then the dogs. Hurriedly confirming the sound they all heard.
I shiver, but not for the cold. Attention brings my small neck hairs to attention. How far is she? Did she make a kill? Could she be hungry enough to come here? Then I see her in my minds eye. She's standing in my hut. Time seems to stand still around her, I myself become frozen. But she's alive and warm. Her eyes sparkle with hunger and curiosity. Why did I come here she asks? What did I hope to find? Have I found it? I stare back in my frozen ball. I'm not terrified but on edge. I don't know I say. I came to see what I would see. I know less than I did before coming. Maybe that's what I've found. She tilts her head. Her enormous size and body dissipate in the figment of my imagination. The temporary paralysis leaves me, liberating life and movement back into my body. The room and myself come back to life. I roll onto my back with renewed freedom. My eyes are open. I'm here, still now, in West Africa, living in our version of winter.
Driving in the cool of evening under the glare of the moonlight, I can't help but appreciate and enjoy what our sub-Saharan version of winter is. Nor can I ignore the temptation to project onto the scenes around me, more familiar winter-esque visions to feel more at home. Moonlight gleaming off a metal corrugate roof becomes a thin layer of snow as does the moonlit sandy path glowing a dim blueish white. Small spirals of smoke curl up gently and effervescently from small burning piles made for warmth or for deleting garbage and brush. The air is crisp. As are the colored leaves which can snap off their branches in a chilly wind. But the gusts bring warmer and warmer air from somewhere far off, reminding us that 'winter' here is short lived. And that the moonlight reflecting off of metal roofs and sand is in fact just that, moonlight.
It's late now. I am chilly under my thin blanket. In my winter hat and pj's I make a ball to stay warm. In the distance I hear her. The whoop whoop of the hyena's cry. And then the dogs. Hurriedly confirming the sound they all heard.
I shiver, but not for the cold. Attention brings my small neck hairs to attention. How far is she? Did she make a kill? Could she be hungry enough to come here? Then I see her in my minds eye. She's standing in my hut. Time seems to stand still around her, I myself become frozen. But she's alive and warm. Her eyes sparkle with hunger and curiosity. Why did I come here she asks? What did I hope to find? Have I found it? I stare back in my frozen ball. I'm not terrified but on edge. I don't know I say. I came to see what I would see. I know less than I did before coming. Maybe that's what I've found. She tilts her head. Her enormous size and body dissipate in the figment of my imagination. The temporary paralysis leaves me, liberating life and movement back into my body. The room and myself come back to life. I roll onto my back with renewed freedom. My eyes are open. I'm here, still now, in West Africa, living in our version of winter.
