bless the rains down in africa

The rainy season is starting to let up, I think. The haze covering the tops of the mountains has returned from its hiatus. A day or two can pass without a torrential downpour pelting the city, drowning the fields and coating every road (and every shoe) with thick mud. People have started forgetting their umbrellas at home (except me, because I’ve never once actually remembered my umbrella!). Most of us are starting to develop what’s called the “Kigali cough,” brought on by the rising red dust in the streets that clogs your throat and makes your lungs feel like they’re burning. Signs of dry weather returning.

As happy as I am about the prospect of no longer getting caught in the rain (and believe me, if it’s raining, I’m bound to get caught in it, usually in a tank top or a white shirt, and never with an umbrella), the rainy season brings a lot of beautiful scenery. The hills that were dry and brittle, faded gold and brown patchwork quilts of fields when I first arrived in Rwanda turned lusciously green almost overnight when the rain started. Shades of green echo across the horizon; the only brown you see is the mud these days. Trees are sprouting more fruit, and there’s a veritable rainbow at every stall in the market as the rainy season brought more interesting things in season. And better still are the people-watching opportunities brought on by the rain. Huge crowds gather under every awning; sometimes people look so morose and confused, like they’ve never encountered a rainstorm before in their lives. The streets become a sea of umbrellas of every colour and design – Premiere League football teams, Primus beer logos, ads for Tuzanet (the free mosquito nets the government provides to mothers) all mixed in with plaids, stripes and floral patterns. Little girls walk down the streets barefoot, shoes in hand, to avoid getting them muddy. And my favourite sight of all – masses of moto drivers hovering under whatever empty space they can find, with or without their bikes.