05 Sep Editor’s Note 02: IN PRAISE OF THE BAKING SUN
“In good moods the sun blesses Africa with a generous sum of the ‘D’ the type no amount of Viagra can give- pun intended”
It’s a gloomy Wednesday morning. What I won’t give to be snuggled by the warmth of my faux fur duvet, but I owe the Queen a mighty sum, if not for anything, the clear undiluted air I breathe in her country. It’s not frosty cold yet but the sun is beginning to show signs of weakness. She’s gradually losing her power and succumbing to the overbearing embrace of autumn.
Fall is not a favourite of mine– since our unexciting introduction 5 years ago, we’ve never made an effort to bridge our differences.Being one of the daughters of the sun, it’s a no brainer why I find it difficult to endure the cruelty and iciness of the weather. Almost all my past life, the scotch from the sun has kept me on my feet, the heat melting away my excess calories while topping up my melanin, so my colour is pure like gold. My spirit feels alive and well with a zest that keeps my hope upbeat and agile waiting on my next adventure.
The sun shines where I am, but it hurts to see her lose her power. Like a figure head, she’s only there in the sky for the role call, she gives light, but you can tell she’s undecided. Her eyes are half opened-half closed- they are neither here nor there. Just like everything on earth, her season and reign are over, and she must return to the land where she belongs- Africa. The place where she is neither loved nor adored but still welcomed.
Africa and the Sun have a love affair that is familiar. Like most marriages, they have their moments of excitement- then the moments of deep hate and division. But as long as they live, they are stuck in the mud for better or worse. In good moods the sun blesses Africa with a generous sum of the ‘D’ the type no amount of Viagra can give- pun intended.
When the flood takes advantage of the lack of proper drainage systems in Africa to reck its havoc on poor inattentive citizens, it’s the sun that comes to the rescue, dosing the earth with its fury, drying up every bit of wetness and sometimes ambitiously going overboard and doing the most.
I hate the heat sometimes, but I love it more than I hate the cold. The two at their extremes are unpleasant, grossly annoying and harmful. At every given opportunity they tend to carelessly flex their muscles, God help you if you stand under their watch too long. What the sun does with cancer is what the frost does with pneumonia. But, between the fire and ice, I’ll pick the former. I’m the child of the sun, so forgive my bias.
I’ve not always loved the sun. In fact, there was a moment in my life, I could give anything to get away from her. The time when the sun mercilessly baked my poverty-stricken feet constantly reminding me of the need to work hard. Hard enough to make up for my parents’ inability to buy me weather worthy shoes.
I haven’t always loved the sun. how can I forget the heat that burned and pierced my bent back while weeding my mother’s precious farm at the tender age of 9, making me swear an allegiance to hustle. ‘There has to be other ways to survive’ I thought to myself. Like a strict mother instilling discipline, the sun thought me lessons- lessons about life and survival etched on the walls of my heart.
But, like I earlier said. The sun can be over ambitious and imperious; her overbearing attention like a nagging spouse drives you up a wall sometimes. You just want to get away, away to anywhere. It made you fancy a one-night stand even with the loveless, icy cold winter. What’s crazy is, the moment you leave her, you most certainly want to return- it may not be immediate but the longing sits in your subconscious. One day, you hear yourself saying ‘There’s no place like home’ but can’t say for sure what about home you miss. I’ll tell you what… I miss the sun especially now that her visits are intermittent where I live. They say, ‘you don’t know what you have until you lose it’ – I say, ‘truer words have never been said’.