The clouds release their explosive bladders, and it is a DOWNPOUR, unlike anything I have ever seen. The thunder strikes the sky like a deadly gong. The power flickers, and the lightning flashes in rhythm. Sitting indoors, I can still feel the mists through the open slats near the ceiling. I can barely hear Cassie explaining adverbs to Gloria, just 15 feet away. At 3:00 in the afternoon, the sky is near black. We won’t be walking down to the market today, I imagine.
Then it recedes. But only for a moment.
Just when you release your breath, the thunder again boomerangs through the sky like a time bomb, and punches the air with an ear-boxing roar. Lightning continues to dagger through the atmosphere, sending electrical pulses through the ends of your hair, and under your nerves. It picks up, louder, louder, LOUDER!!!, until you can’t hear yourself think. the grass and flowers are crushed beneath the heavy burden of the sky’s offering.
It sounds like millions of needles being poured onto a metallic table. The powerful smell of mucky soil, rich and fresh, nearly overwhelms your senses.
You feel the chill around your ankles, under your skirt. You shiver. You wish you brought your scarf, pants, boots, jacket, ANYTHING, that will keep you warm or dry. But there is nothing. It was hot and sticky when you left your house.
Thus, Africa continues to surprise you. And thus, you will get wet today.
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