Like a child who eagerly waits for Christmas to reach, I’m now longing for the end of this long, hot, dusty dry season. My nose and throat is lined with dust; we could easily leave messages for each other using our finger on the dust-covered bench surfaces; I jog with my signature marijuana-leaf bandana around my neck to pull up when passing traffic (or rather when the traffic passes me); and it’s a tug-of-war conversation with Dan each evening to sleep with the glass door open (and screen door shut) or both shut: we differ on our preferred choice: a dusty breeze or stifling hot stillness!
The dirt road by our house is a runway for trucks carrying dirt for road construction on another part of town. A group of residents nearby have similar conditions to us and they decided to protest – they blocked the road with fallen trees so trucks couldn’t pass and gathered to show their discontent with the dusty road conditions and to appeal to the road contractor to water the road several times a day. Their protest was greeted with police and tear gas, however they have started watering their road.
Our community hasn’t decided to protest yet. But… we can see clouds in the sky! Hopefully the end is nigh.