Waiting for the rain

 The clouds are not yet in formation to bring rain and thunderstorms. They dissapate and are mere wisps. How long til the first downpour? Does it still need to be really warm?

My garden is thirsty. I should use more drought resistant plants. Instead of roses and agapanthus, succulents and bushveld.

The flies buzz and the heat forms a haze. Will we get good rains? It has been a drought year. When the municipal water goes, we wonder if this is it and if we'll have to buy water. We've been lucky but how long will it last? We need to rain harvest from our roof.

Stream of Consciousness

 The heat, it saps. My dog sits at my feet and snaps at flies. I must put on flysmear. If only flysmear worked to get rid of all things that bother and bite. I could do with some of that. A fruit chaffer zooms by. Bird song and an aeroplane. Things that I have to do later.

Friendship and writing. I should journal every day but I don't. Life gets busy and time goes by. Agapanthus, a deep blue. My doggie at my feet, faithful girl. I wonder where King has gone? Coffee and water. Two essentials to get through October.  Babblers in the background, come to see what is going on.

Summer

Blue skies before the rains, the building heat. Dust devils and dry leaves. Is it warm enough to swim yet? To plunge into the icy depths. At school we would have jumped in by now. Were we more inured to the cold?

Ice cream men and ice lollies. A bloody nose. Afternoon siestas. Endless watering of the garden. The jacarandas are starting. End of winter duvets. Gin and tonics with lots of ice. The return of the birds. Jasmine makes way for plumbago. Bush fires.

Stream of consciousness

 Sunshine, peeking through the banks of flowers. Snippets of conversation and laughter. Good friends, time to pause. Reflections in the glassware. A cockerel. The heat wafts on the breeze. Noise is not too intrusive. The swimming pool has gone.

The staff clear tables and patrol the garden. High heels on the paving. The high end. The breeze cools and caresses. Summer is here. Hollyhocks and the end of the camellias. 

Zimbabwean Midsummer Night's Dream

 Enter Tembo, the boyfriend, to KFC Avondale and Tendai, the girlfriend, with co-workers.

TEMBO

Ill met by the KFC, proud Tendai.

TENDAI

What do you want now, Tembo?

Colleagues, give us a moment.

TEMBO

What's up Tendai, why are you hurting me?

All I want is a free quarter chicken and chips to satiate my appetite. 

TENDAI

You have to pay for it.

TEMBO

How long is your shift?

TENDAI

Until midnight.

TEMBO

Give me the chicken and chips!!

TENDAI

Not for the whole KFC. Voetsek!

The Others

 I've "known" them since they were little. Street urchins by the Lomagundi traffic lights, foraging for a living, picking up donations from drivers at the intersection. They then went on to directing traffic  when there was no ZESA. Little boys stopping massive trucks and risking life and limb for measly tips.

Since those memories, I've seen the one at the Sam Nujoma and Aberdeen/Churchill lights. He is now selling windscreen wiper sponges and he smiles and waves, even though I am not buying.

Last week a tall, lanky youth came to my car window at the King George intersection with Aberdeen. I didn't recognize him until he smiled and asked where my mother and the Honda CRV were. I unfortunately couldn't buy his luxury toilet rolls and the lights changed. I realized I don't even know their names.

My sister has been living in England since 2015. When she and her husband visited Zimbabwe in 2017, my brother-in-law felt it was a culture shock, primarily with regard to our domestic help system, which he feels is ongoing colonialism. My sister feels very strongly about this now too and is of the opinion we do not pay our gardener enough. At that point in time he was earning more than I was.

I personally think that whilst domestic help is not ideal, it does at least offer employment and benefits. For instance, children of domestic helpers are sent to school and this hopefully offers them better employment options than their parents. It also means their families are kept from living in dire poverty and have an income each month. 

When I look at the ever increasing number of people living on the street and begging for their existence, I believe that offering jobs should not be sniveled at.

We get a steady stream of beggars coming to our gate. Some only want money but some are happy with a bottle of water or a cup of tea and a peanut butter sandwich. It is hard to tell if some of the stories for money are genuine.

We are a bit wary of beggars that come at dusk. My friend's mother was shot dead at her gate one evening in June 2007. We therefore ask that people only come in daylight. 

The number who come can sometimes feel relentless and some seem very desperate. I am angry that our government has failed these people and offers no buffer to poverty.

Down the Baobab Tree

 Fadzai and Tembo had always felt a gravitational force attracting them toward the great baobab tree, two kilometres outside the village. Its wide outstretched bare arms beckoned them. The village elders warned them though of the leopard that lived up the top in the hollow. It liked to eat small children or so they had been told.

It had been a long, hot October day and the heat sat heavily on everyone's shoulders. Fadzai and Tembo had been sent to fetch water and the buckets weighed them down. Stopping to take a rest, they suddenly were aware of the roots and solid trunk of the tree next to them. Looking up at the bright October sky they realized they were at the giant baobab.

Fadzai hastily picked up her bucket but Tembo continued to stare in awe, and then as if in a trance, walked closer to the enormous tree. On the ground was a cracked open furry seed pod and excited, Tembo pulled out the powdery white cream of tartar seeds. He sucked and chewed contentedly and offered some to his sister. Fadzai at first refused but then was persuaded as she did really like the cream of tartar too. It tasted like sherbet.

The two children were so busy enjoying the fruit that they did not notice two sets of eyes honing in on them. One had four legs, while the other slithered. The four-legged tree resident descended from above, whilst the slithering onlooker came from the roots.

Suddenly the children were aware that they were being watched. Nervously they bent down to pick up their buckets when a gruff voice said, "Don't go." And a hiss said, "Sssssstay." The children froze. Stories of witchcraft and children disappearing were not unheard of. Tembo sounding braver than he felt, straightened up and said, "Who are you?" There was a pause and then out of the tree trunk emerged a large leopard. Both children froze. The gruff voice said, "Don't be alarmed, I am one of the guardians of this magical tree." The children stood rooted to the spot and internally wondered who were the others? As if in answer to their thoughts they suddenly looked down to a python winding between their feet. "I am the other," murmured the snake, and then he said, "We mean you no harm."

Tembo, summoning up all his courage spluttered, "We need to go home." The snake had slid up to the hollow in the tree trunk. "Don't you want to see the secret world inside the tree? We've been waiting for you a very long time." Fadzai and Tembo looked at each other. They had always been very curious children. Some times in danger of their own good.

"What magical world?" they asked. "A land that can only be visited once, on one day, before it is replaced by another one," whispered the leopard. "You may enter at your own peril but must return from it before the sun sets or else you will remain in that land forever."

"What lives in these lands?" asked Fadzai. "Oh, anything from your imagination," hissed the python, "Are you ready to explore?"