Dear Sunshine,
I write to you on behalf of all Men from our corner here in Eastern Africa. It not like they elected me their sole voice, but I know many will agree that my plea to you concerns them too. Anyway, I know we haven't gotten along all that well in the past. I didn't cause the sunburns, but I could blame my forgetfulness for not carrying my hat knowing what you are capable of. It wasn't me who scorched the succulent young plants that a family depended on or caused droughts. Anyway, I am no angel either.
I know you have been hiding from me for a while now and I guess the lesson you wanted to teach me about needing you has sunk. Absence makes the heart grow fonder they say. On a few occasions when you have shown your face for a short while, I have embraced you like a long lost friend. And indeed you are just that. I don't know why you are playing hard to get. It may be that you and your Mum Nature don't like our part of the world much, it may be something they call Global Warming or it maybe its some mysterious cycle that mortals like me may not comprehend.
Whatever it is, Sunshine, and whatever you are planning next; please understand that in our part of the world we have no idea how to deal with your teeth-chattering, dull grey and shiver-inducing replacement. We were born with a sturdy skin pigmentation, a sense of adventure and a love for the great African outdoors. We were not born with a gene that tolerates being indoors too long, the hearth and fireplace were meant for cooking not warming our limbs.
Remember that our days are regulated by a slight morning chill, just enough to keep our senses sharp, day long sunshine and warmth that is retained in our mud walls and woolly kinky Afros, our early evenings are warm and suitable for a few hours outdoors to allow the chicken pens refill, women finalize their culinary duties and put the young ones to bed. We were not made for huddling in the house in full sight of children covered head to toe, sniffling and eagerly waiting for the wife's broth. This cold is making us look bad.
When the morning comes, we are expected to be first out of bed as soon as the cockerel announces a new dawn, but lately we cannot afford that luxury and our role as breadwinners and hunters may be questioned for
we are now wont to hang around the bed and house too long to allow the day warm just a wee bit more.
Remember that from our youth we are taught not to be anywhere near the fireplace. We were admonished by the elders that sitting astride the three stones is not for men who hope to keep the family safe from oblivion. There is nothing to warm there. Our mothers too won't allow any young man hanging around the hearth with his sisters and exposing his loins and their chance of being proud grandmothers to the vagaries of the smoke and heat of the homestead's hearth.
I hope you now understand why all men are missing you so much. We have lived with at least a month or two of dipping temperatures every year, but not what seems like half a year. Didn't they say that it will go on well past August?
Seems like every new day is worse than the previous. The weather man and all his technology and gadgets doesn't seem to know if and when we will be reunited and my anger and impatience is now directed at them.
I suspect your absence for so long is not something they are able to explain to me and all the suffering African men.
If nothing else, just remember that the indoor fires in stoves, heaters, whether they are driven by firewood, charcoal, electricity and so on are all meant to "dry out" or kausha our loins and thereby cut our supply. Please do come back sooner dear Sunshine.
A Concerned African Man
Image Courtesy of http://chimptrainersdaughter.blogspot.com/
