sometimes i miss zambia. i just do. we go back so far together. in fact 42 years. i was born there, my mother died there. the dusty years of my childhood. indelibly printed somewhere deep in my mind...mud in my toes and finding mushrooms in the rains...the red dust roads around lusaka and the brachystigia. the way the sky is hazy. the searing bush fires. the dry air and the blue hills - so particular -...the yellow flowers in may. the thespinia which grows inches in a day along the side of the road in mfuwe. may time when the carmine bee eaters arrive back. it's the smell. it's that little finger of cold in a crispy air and the new moon, the smell of grass and smoke in the twilight. my heart. my heart. oh i don't know. i just miss zambia sometimes. mopane wood fires. mopane and elephant moving quietly under the muchenja trees like silver ships in the night, the low rumble... and the bite of a tsetse on my ankle on the O5.
maybe its just this time of year. may. when our african seasons shift. summer ends and winter begins...we breathe between the rains and the dry season. green shifts to gold.
i miss zambia. it will pass as it always does. but it never goes away.