A Parched Landscape

Mpala, Kenya

1.16.15

A Parched Landscape

The Kenyan bush in January is an arid place. The intense equatorial sun does not leave a drop of water on the ground or in the air. It makes me wonder how any of the plants are still alive, not that they are looking very lively these days. They are so dry it seems I could reach out and snap them all with a touch of my finger. And yet somehow they find water that we humans cannot and they survive. In fact, they thrive. Many plants are producing flowers and fruits, a sign of plentiful resources. And here I stand, dry as bone. My skin is white and cracked, my boogers are dry with dust, my voice is hoarse. I look down at my feet covered in the red dust of the savannah. They are fabulously dirty. I bask in the suns rays, happy as can be.

The day rolls on and the heat becomes wearing on my body and on my mind. The sun melts the air into imaginary waves rippling over the road sparking daydreams of swimming in the ocean tides. A slight breeze and a small patch of shade offer momentary relief, but my water is long gone and the afternoon is just beginning. The only sign of animal life is the steaming dung piles on the ground; the animals are all sleeping in the deep shade of the trees.

Eventually the afternoon heat fades into night and the temperature drops. The dropping temperature brings dark skies, lit up by more stars than I have ever seen before. There is nothing like the stars in the bush. Without any near-by towns, all it takes is switching off my headlamp to feel transported into a far-off world. Looking up into the endless starry night sky makes me realize my ridiculous insignificancy. It is both the most comforting and horrifying feeling there is: that I am an infinitesimal ball of energy, aimlessly bouncing around this minuscule planet.

I fall asleep under the blanket of stars and awake only when the heat of the morning becomes too intense to rest any longer. Another day has passed and another day is beginning, deep in the African bush.