The first rains in Africa

We were honoured to be invited to a ‘brei’ by two South Africans staying in the next bungalow. The Brei stand was readied, the starter chips lit and the wood piled on. While the flames danced and the coals began to glow, we drank Castle beer and talked of the weather.

As I’d said, it has been hot and dry. Very hot, very still, very dry. The scrub brush is for the most part a ghostly grey, and the grasses where they still stand, are a golden yellow. But where animals have worn away the ground cover, the dry red sand dominates.

The bleakest vista is the burn … generally controlled burns to encourage tender new shoots, but in places, vast tracts of blackened grass and scorched trees where fires appear to have burned out of control.

One of the black park rangers, “Lucky”, drove his safari vehicle up onto the brown grass beside our bungalow, was handed a beer, and joined our little circle. He too spoke of the need for rain.

The coals ready, our hosts placed an empty cast iron pot on one side of the grill. The smoke rising straight into the now darkened sky, they first laid out a single long link of beef sausage. When it was deemed ready, it was dropped into the pot to stay warm. Next, lamb chops, onto the grill, turned at regular intervals, and added to the warming pot. Chicken that had been marinated and ‘par-cooked’ landed on the grill, and then joined the other meats to stay warm.

Finally, a white bread sandwich with salmon, tomato and onions – flipped by quick fingers to grill lightly on both sides.

As we sat down to eat the brei feast, accompanied by a fresh green salad prepared in a frying pan, the air started to stir. No sooner had we popped open another round of beers, then the wind came up. Glancing out from under the thatched roof of the porch, we noticed the dome of stars had been obliterated by clouds and on the horizon, white flashes of lightening.

While in Canada, we might have worried about rain ruining our planned activities, our South African hosts spoke of hope that the rains were starting. October is the hottest, driest month, and therefore, the best time for game viewing because the animals congregate at waterholes and leafless trees open up longer vistas. But it is also known as suicide month because the 40 degree heat is oppressive. The water holes were dry and the rains were already late.

That evening, when the first few drops fell, you could feel the landscape let out a collective sigh. We moved our makeshift table under the roof, but the meal was abandoned as the South Africans stood out in the thickening rain, faces turned to the sky, open cans of beer in hand, slowly getting drenched.

As the first drops dampened the dust, we were enveloped by the smell of thirsty terracotta. The wind stirred the tree tops and turned cool and our hosts laughed.

We’ve seen the first rain in Africa, and felt the joy of those who await its arrival.