The African sun, once again, furiously beats down on this beautiful city of mine...the mercury reaching dangerously close to the 40 mark.  The green trees lapping up the sun, the lesser plants wilting in in It's wake.  People scatter to find a patch of shade, opening windows to lure in the non-existing breeze.  Out of breath we walk across the cracked earth, every inch of life silently crying out for relief...but all is quiet, restlessly waiting on what we know is the inevitable outcome of a day like today.

The sun is almost setting, still burning as if it were at It's peak...the relentless heat drying up the air and chasing away any wind, and still we wait, we know.

Dusk setlles in, were close to bursting point, the heat never lets up...it can't be long now...

Walking outside, I can smell it...it's getting closer...

Looking out of the window, I see the telltale signs...it starts as a light breeze playing with the upper branches of the Accacia,.  Soon, I know, it'll be time. 

The breeze soon turns into a wind, which soon turns into a violent tustle between the force of the wind and the roots grounding the trees.  Dust gets blown about, the dry smell now gone, the sky is dark - no stars tonight - it's time!

The distant rumble rolls closer with each spatter of the bullet-like raindrops, pelting down on the thirsty ground.  The  thunder can be heard creeping slowly, taking it's time...and with one brilliant flash of sheer power the lightning tears open the heavens and unleashes the violent storm that brings the highly anticipated relief.  The raindrops are infiltrating every inch, like soldiers sweeping through the abandoned area.  The darkest night illuminated by the blinding lightnig, ripping through the heat and leaving us in awe.  The epic scene unfolds, as we sit in silence soaking up the refreshing smell, the gentler taste of the air, the beauty of the view, the relentless display of power, the extreme relief of the water, dripping down the windows, sparkling more brightly than the clearest diamond - more precious than any stone produced from the bowels of this land.

Too soon the swells and waves dissapate, leaving the sky in a bright pinkish hue, bathing the ground in an eerie light...the pools of water are stirred by the occasional dripping, the leaves of trees are bending under the weight of the water they carry.  All is quiet, filled with the grim satisfaction and appreciation for the rare event - contentment fills the air and peacefully we head for our beds, gently persuaded by the lullaby of the December African Rains.