The Deep Dark African Night

There are several shades of night in the bush and numerous moods. Our house is in the staff compound, and the houses ring with chat, children and music. Transistors blare out soca and quato as the evening fires are being lit and the compund bustles with activity. The walk down the valley and through the marsh to the other side of the camp brings a chill as the water cools the air. You drift through pockets of hot air, then cold. It is eerie and feverish. Although the cicadas have stopped their ceaseless creaking with the setting of the flushed sun the night is far from silent. Bats chase you along your path, hunting the insects that flock to your torchlight. They emit loud sonic chirrups like tiny flying saucers feeling their way through space. Walking up to the lodge for dinner takes you through the pine plantation, and the trees groan and sigh as if the whole forest was alive and waiting to eat you. I've never felt more like little red riding hood, except this time with a leopard at the door. When the moon is full the sky seems to glow from all around, it is the only thing in the sky, you can see your companion as plainly as you would in the day. Cool silver light spills over the grasslands highlighting the trees and the looming stone. The lake lies clear and calm in the bowl of the valley, showing the moon it's distant face. When the moon is hidden the stars, frosty and detached, fill the sky from the very horizon, and the Milky Way runs across the dome, misty and ethereal, the highway of the heavens.