picture this postcard

having no vehicle, i take self-propelled adventures. i grabbed my bike today and headed out to a road i had never been before.

the purple grey clouds banked the horizon, threatening to release their moisture at any time. but with the sun at my back, i risked a shower. i passed crowds of kids just out of school, all waving and shouting "mzungu" even though they know my name.

the red road rose before me. i could not see the end of it over the horizon, and i wondered if i might fall off the edge in a few moments time. to my right, green stalks of maize were struggling out of the hard red soil. to my left, nothing planted yet. the farmer is waiting to plant his wheat. who ever it is has a huge farm and i passed nothing but soil for several kilometers.

the sound of a match striking draws my attention to the ditch. however, it is not a match but the simultaneous snap of wings of tiny black birds startled by my intrusion. they burst out of the ditch, and in formation cross my path. all at once, together, they bank to the left, flashing their orange underbellies. i am in awe at this simple gesture and the surprise of a bright hue. maybe their way of saying "hey mzungu"

i wish i had my camera as my mind's eye takes in the view. an acacia tree stands alone on the horizon in between vast fields waiting for the rains. i reach the rise in the road and drink in the normalcy of village life. modern houses stand next to mud huts, 3 children stop their digging to wave and smile. a woman carries a heavy load on her head. a child of 7 is herding over 10 cows.

delicate cranes tiptoe through the untilled field. their careful gait resembles socialite ladies walking in high heels in the thick carpet of an opera hall. their blue backs, white bellies, and black faces are a fancy costume for the simple farm they visit. their mohawk of yellow straw is halo like, or perhaps a crown of gold to match their stunning outfits and proud walk. when i stop to quietly watch them walk, they glance back at me, and as if snubbing my trousers and dirty sandals, ever so slowly take off in flight to join better company.

i turn back as the purple of the clouds is giving way to a more ominous black. i smile at the shocked faces of men as i ride my yellow, multi speed bike past their one speed "black mambas." school children who were dawdling home, are now jumping over the maize mounds to get home and disappear into the tall green grass. i love how their pink shirt collars poke out of their burgandy sweaters and their white knee socks will not stay up to their knees no matter how much coaxing they get.

i descend down the last small hill before the hospital and navigate my way over the jagged rock. it reminds me of downhill riding in whistler. my arms begin to itch with the vibrations of the rocky road. i pass the round yellow church before the hospital gate and 6 of my little friends scream "bye! bye! bye!" from the door of their mothers hair saloon. a motorcycle driver gives me a friendly nod from "one biker to another" as he parks his bike.

no camera today, but picture this postcard of plateau.

wish you were here.