Winter in Pitsane

Pitsane (and most of Botswana) is yellow and brown right now. The pans in Pitsane are dry but still pretty in their wide expanse of blond emtiness. Meanwhile the tree in my yard has balded like a chemo patient. Winter is cancerous and it goes in and out of remission with the passing seasons. When the sun sets during the winter, the worst falls down on us. A frost sets in. I see it on the grass on the few early mornings when I leave the house. I see it, an opaque white layer of ice, as I cross the train tracks to hitch hike to Lobatse or Gabs. When the sun is out, the cold is at bay but still salivating, licking its lips at what greenery is left to kill. My flowers stand dry and splotchy. They're pathetic, sad and nearly dead.
In the mornings I see a shadow of breath retarded and then destroyed by the cold air when I exhale from my mouth. This is usually while I drink my morning coffee in the stuffed chair by my bookshelf. The cat lives in my lap and I need him there. Before I make it out of bed though, I usually pick up my cold cell phone and text Julie or Laura (who live nearby) that humans were not made for this. Batswana often tell us that this must be nothing compared to winters in America. We're two Californians and a Texan. We're not accustomed to cold, but even Americans who are have always enjoyed insulated houses and heating. We often wonder whose idea it was to live in the coldest region of Africa but it's when I see pictures of this past summer that I remember. I have a hard time believing this is the same place that was full of birdsong and shimmering curtains of flickering bugs that hummed with energy. Although the pans are still pretty with breathtaking views of pink, blue, and purple cotton candy skies, I'd rather not be out in the chaffing cold. It blows through me and takes something away with it--a chunk of my high spirits. Winter blows its cold dry breath during the bright warm sunshine to let you know its still here and will be back on the hunt when the sun sets. All of Borolong is miserable. We just bundle, and wait with frozen hopes that will thaw when the frost does.