– Maji ni uhai –
Water, the nectar of life
October. Water is desire. The ground is
inflamed, red-hot and dusty. Long cracks open along the beaten track.
The sun dries out your thoughts. Not a drop since April. The bare
thorny trees sting your throat. Your breath is dry, desolated like
the land you tread on.
The wind blows away your sweat, leaving
you long salty strips on the skin. A cat meows in the distance. The
chicken gasp, looking for a bit of shadow.
You close your eyes, and see a spring.
You dream to drink in. Fresh and clean water, that invites to be
touched, tasted, swallowed. Beautifully blue.
You open your eyes and it only remains
the red dust. A snake is stuck between the scalding stones. Headache,
drought, and in the lungs more dust again.
And then, from nowhere, it appears a
minuscule leaf. The Spring begins like that: with a minuscule leaf
from nowhere. One can't see a cloud, but magic, the leaf extinguishes
the thirst in a vision. Young and tender, it sends in the air its
perfume of hope.
And here, that's another one! And
another, and another again. They bud from the thorns. They are
painting green the mountain. The Sky suggests to them that the season
is about to change, so they celebrate. They use all last resources
for shining and rejoicing to the imminent regeneration of the world.
Their last energies in a rain dance.
It's a promise. Soon we'll have water
again. Soon we'll have again life.
