Plagerizing myself

I have been too exhausted this week to think about writing (I'll explain why at some point). Instead, I'll copy in some writing I had to do for an online course I am taking. The assignment: describe the view from your window. Without further ado... my view:

The mosquito screens that frame my window deter Malaria-laden insects, but ignore the warm Ugandan breeze that freely flows through their tiny braids. As I peer out my bedroom window, I can hear the bleating of cattle and the persistent honks of half-filled mutatus. I watch two sunbirds playfully shake droplets from the vibrant green bush beside my porch. The scattered water drops are feeble reminders of the heavy downpour that unleashed its emotion on the thirsty red roads this morning, the storm that sent the slums downhill into panicked flurry, the same precipitation that announced its procession from Lake Victoria with a heavy drumming and urgent cracks of thunder, and the same rain that accelerated the growth of my tomatoes.

I watch as my cat, always the feisty one, swats at my dog's tail before sprinting across the lawn and diving headfirst into the brush. I notice, with a smirk, that an agama lizard taunts her as it suns on the compound wall-- just beyond her nimble reach. She stalks slowly and crouches in the flowers, ready to pounce should the lizard forget her presence. I sigh, knowing it is only a matter of time until my restless puppy-of-a-dog capitalizes on this moment of kitty indisposition and grabs her tail. I know this dance for dominance far too well.

I turn my eyes towards the valley and scan the hills. I love the crisp clarity of the air after a good rain. As I watch the sun begin to dip into the red roofs and banana leaves, I wonder if electricity will return tonight and unravel the cloak of darkness that will soon transcend.