african rain

I'm pretty sure when I was in Ghana in 2009 I had a blog post with the exact same title. There is something wonderful about rain here, a magic that is new to me.

The rain here is different from the rain in Ghana, at least during the season I was there. Every day the sun rose and the heat swelled until rain broke in the afternoon. People were forced to stop, take shelter, rest, and a rain would softly fall for about half an hour, relieving the heat, and the sky would clear again.

This is the first time I have ever experienced the end of a dry season. For two months the sun crawled across the sky every day, the dust rose off the dirt roads, and there was no cloud cover to soften the sun's searing power. For two months Isaac and I cleaned our outer ears, surprised at the blackened Q-tips. For two months Ugandan men drew sewer water in buckets and tossed it across the streets, trying to keep the insufferable dust in check. The grass got browner and the lawn developed bald patches. It wasn't terrible -- I don't think the weather here is something I can complain about! -- but after two months you realize with a start that it has not rained at all and the world feels quite parched.

Ugandans who have lived here their whole lives can't understand the thrill of that first snowfall in November, or the way Canadians take that first warm spring day as an excuse to wear shorts and sandals. After a long winter, the first time you can emerge from the house without a jacket on is a milestone.

Until now, I have not understood the joy of rain. One night Isaac and I were sitting in the living room and we heard a light pitter patter. We both froze.

"Is that rain?" Isaac said.

"Let's go watch it!" We ran out to the porch to watch the rain.

This past week we had our first rainfall during school hours since before Christmas holidays. My class was totally disrupted. The wind whipped through the windows, shaking the palm leaves outside; the clouds gathered and swirled, thunder rolled. And then the downpour began. Vicious pounding on the tin roof. The leaking tin roof, I was reminded as I watched a puddle form in the middle of the classroom. Students high-fived each other. A grade 6 boy shouted, "Thank God for the rain!" and one senior even slid down the muddy hill on his stomach.

 A friend of ours who works with Samaritan's Purse was telling me about his work in refugee camps in Sudan.

"You're much more excited for the rain when you're hungry or when you're worried about your crop," he said. "I was in a camp one time and it had not rained in 6 months."

I can't even imagine.

Today it drizzled all day. I was comfortable in jeans, a long sleeved shirt, and a light scarf; when I got home, I even wished that I had a pair of slippers! The air smells clean, everything seems washed in brighter green and the grass has already grown. Maybe after a few weeks of the rainy season we'll be done with it, but for now we're all enjoying the rain.