The Rains Down in Africa

Sitting down on my patio overlooking the garden and the pool, there is a light rain, yes, and I am listening to Toto (“and Toto too!”).  It is one of the questions I face every weekend day here in Libreville: Do I sit outside and enjoy the thick and pretty African air – hot and humid as it is, but way more preferable to the air-conditioned inside – not that the inside is uncomfortable in any way – just that it is so one dimensional, fake, artificial compared to the outside where you can hear the birds, watch the rain land its little splashes and see the green palms and red and orange tropical flowers?

But for the mosquitoes there are to consider – there is the rub, so to speak, for the stories of malaria must give us pause, especially here so near that line that divides the directions, where the toilets change direction and that aggressive female Anopheles loves to leave her little sickening hickey.  Never really pausing long, I put on the deet and dress as much as I can reasonably bear in the heat and go out on my patio to watch the rains down in Africa.  After the rain passes, having broken the humidity only for a moment, I linger to feel the fresh coming of the heat again even if the mosquitoes now threaten to set upon the standing pools and jump from there to feed on my blood.  I am happy now to give it to Africa.  There are worse things; like the unlived life…