Birthday Pula

Since last Friday night, Molepolole and much of southern Botswana has experienced a torrential rain. Like, someone forgot to turn off the sky faucet. Non-stop, gross, rainy, cold. All of my shoes have since succumbed to the muddy paths that lead from my house to the tarred road, and it makes matters more fun to think about all the animals (goats, chickens, dogs, cats, etc.) that live around me. That isn’t just mud, but I digress.

Since I was a little girl it has rained on my birthday. Birthday party after birthday party had to be canceled because of the rain. Only on years when it didn’t matter that it rained would it not rain. So, this year, just when I begin to think I’m in the movie “The Mist”, I naturally expected my birthday to be another day of slopping around and canceled parties.

Well, my friends, the morning mist did arrive, and it was pretty heavy too, but it was without rain. In fact, the whole day happened without a drop. We even went to the stadium for exercise because the expected rain didn’t occur, and by the end of day the blue skies had shown their somewhat-familiar hues and people were laughing and I got my birthday wish. Yes, I still walked home in the manure mud, but at least without having to wear a giant green cousin-to-the-trash-bag emergency poncho over wet clothes.

So my birthday was great! I got a phone call this morning from friends from home who were all out at a pub (it was still pint night for them), I ate a fatcake (savory unglazed doughnut roll), and a cluster of trainees sang to me. I also treated myself to a small amt. of chocolate, and then at the stadium later on ran 4 miles. Came home and took a long, hot bucket bath, and exchanged phone calls with my family. I’m 28, and this is the first of THREE birthdays to be spent in Africa.

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