Originally uploaded by madeline.tiee
The rains have been coming intermittently. When it rains, it pours in sheets wide as the lightening tall. And after it rains, seasonal lakes form, the soil too fine to absorb the downpour. The geese and children play. The streets are mud. And at night, the toads chorus to their mates in overlapping endless tones that never end all night long except for those small silent breathers when all toads stop together but restart again just as simultaneously. A seamless wave reverberating in and out. Bugs come out that I haven’t seen before. Bright pink fuzzies. Huge gilded-backed beetles mating. Termites that sprout wings and then shed them. Wings litter the ground. Insects eat the previous generation as the new one is born from the rains.
I will never forget the first morning I tried to get our morning bread after a rain. I have now learned that key to walking in mud is s-l-o-w-l-y. Take your time picking out the driest route. If not, you will lose your flip-flop to the mercy of the mud. Then you have to pick it out and find a way to stick your foot back into it, squishing your toes between the mud, attempting to pluck it out gracefully. But. A little girl is following me. Kumba. Eh!? Kumba Ba! She walks around a huge lake of water just to watch me pick my way slowly slowly through the mud.