Changing seasons

I was giddy with anticipation all day. We knew it would happen. This week uniforms change from summer to winter, timely as ever. Gone are the gingham dresses, now it's stiff blazers and ties. It was only a matter of days.
Yesterday was as good a day as any. The clouds rolled over and darkened the sky, and as the last of the pupils were leaving the school an almighty crash filled our ears.
I felt like I should do a welcoming dance, tap my feet to bring in the rain. To ask it to stay a while. To bring the temperatures down. But this is not Africa. The storm brings back vivid memories and fills my mind. It sounds like I am back in East Africa, waiting out the storm in my classroom, waiting for the hour of rain to pass before I go, listening to the hustle and bustle of people heading for shelter, but we are far from the lush land of the pearl.
We don't really need it here. The farmers aren't waiting for it to come, we don't rely on it. People can't really cope with it here. Roads aren't build for rain and 4x4s are certainly not meant to go through those puddles here. No.
But all that banging and crashing was for nothing. It didn't come. Just sprinkled us with hope and dirtied the cars.
We don't need the rain. There are not many trees to drink it up or animals that are thirsty. Why have water? There is oil instead, buckets of the stuff. But I want rain. I want the temperature to drop from 33 degrees to 23 degrees by Saturday morning, only rain will do it, is that too much to ask in November. I am going to dance for that. If not for the weather, at least for a good run. My first half since Lewa (that seems a long time ago!!). I won't be spotting zebras and giraffes on this run, that is for sure, more likely to be counting fast-food restaurants-that is a good game actually!?