Seasons (Dry)

I had this conversation with a clerk in a random store the other day

in an effort to seek shelter from the cold November rain

She gave me ginger bread biscuits and moaned about the weather

tales of wind and piss-rain interspersed with homages to the riot of colours of autumn

oh and the anticipation of snow…sweet sweet snow

that has made the northern hemisphere the envy of the world


so I nodded politely and took a bite of my ginger biscuits

and wondered where on earth I had landed


You see, there is something peculiar about living near the equator

the days and nights are divided fairly

time is the same all year round

we do not take an hour from here and add another there to get a full year

the sun is faithful in her rising and setting

no 3am surprise sunrises or 10 pm suspicious sunsets

Even when she goes rogue, the sun does not deviate by more than a couple of hours


There is something comforting about that stability

but it is dangerous to mistake stability for uniformity

we might not have spring , summer, autumn and winter

that neatly divide the year into four

instead we live with the realities

of rainy, dry and harmattan

the first two often mistaken for adjectives,

not the nouns they are in this case,

and the third sounds like spice used by berbers

So hear me, afficianadoes of the four seasons,

There is beauty in these three and their peculiarities


I love the dry season

There is nothing more life affirming than feeling the sun sizzle on your skin

It is the time of the year that you can taste the heat in the air

and the grass crackles satisfyingly under your feet.

Scrunch up old leaves and feel leaf-dust slip through your fingers

Pick off old bark peeling away on ancient trees.

It is the time of year for slow breaths and measured laughter

Of tuning into your body to recognize the feel of a minute


But for some in the city, its time to test those gears

since the sand smooths the road better than high grade asphalt

Whizzing through streets that will later betray you

in a rat race from one air conditioner to another

the season is the natural enemy of productivity

thus, the suits have justifiably,

developed a healthy fear of the those months

when the mighty sun comes out to play


some days, it feels like it has never rained before

and the overheated ozone buzzes in your ear

also forget perspiration, you WILL sweat like a pregnant fish

And your skin darken to a sheen with melanin protection.

It also does wonders for your taste buds,

a glass of water tinkling with ice, tastes like nectar

And coconut water, drunk straight from the husk tastes like pure rain

But the best part of the dry season is

finding a mango tree when the sun is at its zenith,

brushing away the ants and claiming a spot

reserved for you by the merciful gods

who blow a gentle breeze

at a hidden frequency

that only the mango can key


(p.s. rainy and harmattan are under construction, plus an outro, so stay tuned. In the meanwhile comments, questions and suggestions are all welcome …)






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