SOON Online Magazine
Stories
Zimbabwe |
| I stood alone, on the quiet Zimbabwean plain basked in the hot afternoon sun; the ground was cracked and dry underneath my feet, gasping for rain. I felt it's immense warmth engulf my whole form as a bead of sweat tickled my forehead and followed the contours of my skin. My mouth felt dry from swallowing and I could feel my neck begin to tingle from the suns invasive rays. Under the branches of the Jacaranda tree I found shade, beautiful purple treasures floated lazily to the ground with each gust of wind. The smell from the small flowers was exactly what you would expect from the petite ornamental petals, sweet and exotic like the burning of incense. |
| My attention was caught by the scurrying of a lizard darting from the shade of the trees as one would jump across the stepping stones of a river. He was bright blue and yellow and served as a wonderful contrast against the dusty earth. His bulging eyes surveyed the surroundings nervously entirely aware of its own vulnerability, and as I took a step closer it found refuge on the trunk of an old knotted Baobab tree. The tree itself was peculiar, as if upside down. The branches stretched finger like towards the cloudless blue sky, like hands of witches. The fruits of the trees were big hard pods, too cumbersome and heavy for the wiry branches to hold so they fell clumsily to the ground below. |
| Now that the lizard was still, the only noise was the rumble of the awesome Victoria Falls. The force of the cascading water sent clouds of spray into the otherwise parched air, 'The smoke that thunders' was what David Livingstone had called it. Wispy white beards of water plunged onto the rocks below, as the river flowed urgently down the cavern beyond. The sun was beginning to set behind The Falls; the lilac glow of the sky was mirrored by the serene surface of the river. Vegetation thrived along the edge of the mighty Zambezi River, green and glowing, a tropical rainforest contrasted the sparse dry bushes that were scattered on the plane where I stood. |
| I felt the earth vibrate under my feet, and I noticed a small group of scantily clad African women stamping their feet and chanting under a tree beside the river. Their arms outstretched to the heavens, eyes tightly closed, their voices wailing and pleading in their native tongue. I felt something fall on my shoulder and felt a cool moistness as I touched my bare skin. The joyous screams of the women as small drops of rain became a refreshing downpour, as their small forms danced in the rapidly forming puddles. The entire landscape was transformed in that one single moment, as the earth drank thirstily a rich deep aroma rose from the soil. The smell of the first African rain is like an intoxicating breath of life. A hazy steam rises up from the ground glad of an opportunity to cool down. I turned my face to the sky above me, and felt the drops caress my warm skin. The great river welcomed the supply of fresh rainwater, its dimpled surface gurgled playfully around the rocks and sandbars as the water level rose, wetting the dry river bank that desperately longed to join the party. |
| The crickets and other members of the insect kingdom joined together in song to welcome the rain, drowning out the raindrops with their melody. The birds sang out their praises as the trees became silhouettes against the orange evening sky and a lone impala stood nibbling on a bush beside me, the stars peeping out one by one in the huge African sky. |
| ©Bethany Morrison 2002 |
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