Aww, The Memories of Africa.
Like warm bath water, the memories of Africa slowly cleared my mind of life's problems. I remember the nights Carolyn and I would sit, watching the Southern Cross move across the sky. The nights were so clear. In the African bush, there aren't any man-made lights to intrude into the darkness and without the preamble of twilight, night falls.
We were 200 kilometers from the nearest town, but civilization was still evident. Satellites crisscrossed the night sky. Each night we would count them. The one night record was 14.
With the cool of night, the mosquitos would disappear, the day noises would stop and silence would descend on the bush. Then, ever so slowly, the night sounds would begin. They were more subtle, softer and elusive. "Listen, hear that?" A spider scurried over the sand. We picked our feet up until the sound subsided.
From the giant baobab trees came the low buzz of bee colonies that lived in them and the soft flutter of wings as parrots settled in their nesting holes. An occasional "plop", like a wet sponge, when a large white baobab flower fell from its heights.
The night is the time of predators; from the lion to the smallest insect hunting mouse. The cobra and mamba silently glided through the grass, while the vine snake prowled the trees looking for roosting birds, and the puff adder lay in ambush. Spiders, scorpions, centipedes, and beetles, turned the ground into a battlefield.
When it got too creepy outside we would move into our thatched roof living area and turn on the one overhead light bulb. The light would attract our nightly friends. Bats flying around the bulb catching, whatever. On the dirt floor were our friends, like Fast Freddies, large spiders that moved to fast to step on, hunted. Lizards stalked their prey. Beetles of every description scurried aimlessly about, never seeming to accomplish anything. Over time we all became accustomed to each other.
By ten o'clock we would retire to the safety of our net enclosed bed and fall asleep to the buzz of life going on around us.
Marshall Kimbrough-Warren
We were 200 kilometers from the nearest town, but civilization was still evident. Satellites crisscrossed the night sky. Each night we would count them. The one night record was 14.
With the cool of night, the mosquitos would disappear, the day noises would stop and silence would descend on the bush. Then, ever so slowly, the night sounds would begin. They were more subtle, softer and elusive. "Listen, hear that?" A spider scurried over the sand. We picked our feet up until the sound subsided.
From the giant baobab trees came the low buzz of bee colonies that lived in them and the soft flutter of wings as parrots settled in their nesting holes. An occasional "plop", like a wet sponge, when a large white baobab flower fell from its heights.
The night is the time of predators; from the lion to the smallest insect hunting mouse. The cobra and mamba silently glided through the grass, while the vine snake prowled the trees looking for roosting birds, and the puff adder lay in ambush. Spiders, scorpions, centipedes, and beetles, turned the ground into a battlefield.
When it got too creepy outside we would move into our thatched roof living area and turn on the one overhead light bulb. The light would attract our nightly friends. Bats flying around the bulb catching, whatever. On the dirt floor were our friends, like Fast Freddies, large spiders that moved to fast to step on, hunted. Lizards stalked their prey. Beetles of every description scurried aimlessly about, never seeming to accomplish anything. Over time we all became accustomed to each other.
By ten o'clock we would retire to the safety of our net enclosed bed and fall asleep to the buzz of life going on around us.
Marshall Kimbrough-Warren
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