Roll back the darkness

The hillside twinkled in the myriad lights of rising. Clouds gently unfolded whiteness in cabbage patches in the sky’s field, ink unable to dim the excitement of awakening. The factory of day had started work. Returning night movers raised a gentle hum, and the birds squeaked, tickled by all the motion. Then came the bullying throttle of the garbage truck, compelling people out of slumber in resentment of their constant discarding.

Perhaps I misunderstood them. After all, the bread truck makes almost as much noise and its cargo is a herald of sweetness. And all this while, the clouds are asserting their hold over the day, pushing back the night and releasing more white with every tick of the clock. There is this magic moment when the song of the birds is the most dominant, as the fragrance of pastry and coffee rise to meet the belly.

It is day. Another day. Soon, and for many hours, words from people will direct my decisions and thoughts. But before then, their very acts of embracing the gift of the new day provide strength.

I keep praying, drinking in the kissing of heaven and earth on my verandah. It’s speaking peace. Kenya, Cote D’Ivoire, Sudan will hear the voice of treaties and cries, as Angola and Rwanda seem to have done. Don’t fret. The steady lines of cars take over the roads just as brightness completes its win over the darkness. This is how I know that my beloved Africa will not always be in darkness. The day will come and settle down. Just give it more time and work; slowly, steadily.