Voluptuous

I am struck by the Outpost’s voluptuousness at present; it (she?) seems fatly content and sleek in comparison to other regions. Driving as we do, across enormous distances, we traverse the country’s contours and some seem harshly barren and skinny, maize is stunted, skies white hot blue, clouds measly ribbons of papery inadequacy, melting to nothing under a merciless sun.

Not here though. Here the sky is full of fat black clouds pregnant with the promise of rain. More rain.  The earth has bled into deep puddles thick with mud. The mango trees are lushly emerald green and the flamboyant, stripped of flowers now, are sporting long sausage seed pods, a pledge that next season’s fiery blooms will be just as plentiful. More so. The grass is long, my lawn, from the dust bowl that it was, must be cut twice a week, it feels deliciously thick beneath bare feet: shagpile thick. The cress I planted at the base of a palm is long legged and gangly. The salad bowl beckons. The cattle and goats are no longer lean hipped and the women’s derrieres spill over the backs of bicycles so that it’s hard not to notice. One wears a kanga decorated with dollar signs. Apt. And hilarious. Booty as bounty.

Even the shade is plump. Gloriously plump so that there is ample under which to take refuge in the still heat before the storm.

Africa isn’t often fat. The extra poundage born of good rains won’t last long. But it looks beautiful whilst it’s here.

I wish the same could be said of my thickened post Christmas middle.

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11 Responses to “Voluptuous”

  1. cinnamon gurl Says:

    No photos? As lovely as your words are, they just made me thirsty for photos too…

  2. R. Sherman Says:

    “Even the shade is plump.”

    Great image.

    Cheers.

  3. Potty Mummy Says:

    Lovely imagery RM. And who amongst us isn’t sporting similar effects of Christmas?

  4. Roberta Says:

    What a wonderful way of describing Africa after the rain. This is serious writing.

    I remember, when I was voluptuously pregnant with my first child, the spring rains. Sitting in the rocker with an album playing and smelling the green leaves and feeling and smelling the rain.

    There is something about that feeling no one ever forgets.

    I just makes one smile…gleefully.

  5. Gillian Says:

    Enjoying your descriptions… as always.

    I’m currently reading Gillian Slovo’s memoir/biography of her parents Joe Slovo and Ruth First. Have you read it? What do you think of it?

    I’m loving it – it’s well written, honest and rivetting stuff.

  6. Mzungu Chick Says:

    Hi Memsahib, I love this post and your descriptions. I was thinking the other day how to describe that amazing smell when you have a storm and it’s been very dry, so its the rain in the dust smell. It’s such an amazing distinctly African smell I think but I do not have words to describe it like you have here. With your descriptions I feel like I came to visit the outpost myself.
    (By the way – keen on the $ kanga myself as I feel my large arse must be worth something!)

  7. reluctantmemsahib Says:

    Thank you all. Glad I’m not alone in sporting a spot of post festive season rotundity. Mzunguchick; that kanga was the best I’ve ever seen: does my bum look big in this? Not sure, but it looks expensive which is what counts. Cinammon gurl – sorry about absence of pix, but not sure i’d do justice to outpost’s blooming appearance?

  8. reluctantmemsahib Says:

    Gillian – no, I haven’t read Slovo’s memoir … am off to check out reviews right now. Amazing where one can go to in cyberspace … thanks for the tip.

  9. Primal Sneeze Says:

    Booty as bounty. Killer line, Mem’. Killer line!

  10. Rob Says:

    Next time I am walking the dog squelching around the fields, muddy and saturated with never ending cold rain, I will be buoyed up thinking that at least in some parts of the world the rain is a welcome relief and a time for celebration and joy! Good to have you back on line.

  11. apoetonamotorcycle Says:

    Great, love the wit in your writ. As an ex-Mzungu I’m glad to know that the Watu around you are enjoying a time of excess, however short that time might be.

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