One of my most important considerations when developing recipes in the Upper Zambezi Valley is the weather. For nine months of the year it’s hot, with October being the hottest month of all.
It rained on Thursday night.
When a wind delivered the first smell of rain to me about which I wrote in my post, The Throbbing Earth, it also brought to me a voice.
I was sitting at my desk in our tin house, corrugated iron walls all wide open in a futile attempt at tempering the 43-degree afternoon heat, when a gust of wind whipped through. I heard it before I felt it.
