Last weekend, we had heat lightning, which was beautiful and amazing to watch. The next morning, there was a ten minute downpour, which was also beautiful and amazing. Having not seen rain since April, it’s much appreciated.
Wednesday evening there was another thunderstorm. I told Katlo, the little boy who lives on my family compound, to come dance in the rain. He laughed at me, as he always does when I have these “crazy” ideas. I ran out in my gym shorts and a t-shirt anyway, did some cartwheels, and chassé-ed around on the pavement. My landlord’s maid yelled in Setswana that I was going to “catch flu.” Ignoring them, I sang whatever song I could think of, conveniently inserting the word “pula” into every line.
That’s when I noticed that there were four workmen fixing something on the roof of my landlord’s house, frantically trying to finish in the downpour, and they absolutely thought I was insane. Too late to turn back, I just told them I was out of my mind (“Ke a tsenwa!”) and after that they laughed with me and maybe even started to enjoy the rain themselves (if nothing else, I certainly was entertainment to help pass the time as they worked). Katlo gave in to the urge and joined me in dancing around. Coconut, Blackie, and Doodle-doo (my landlord’s dogs) came out for the fun as well.
It poured again last night, and while I didn’t choose to dance outside, I saw Katlo spinning around, embracing the fat raindrops and cool breeze. I may fail at capacity building with the teachers at my school, but it’s nice to know I may be able to teach about appreciating life’s little pleasures.
Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.
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