I love this time of day, walking with the dogs before the sun goes down. There’s something in the air tonight.
A pair of African Grey parrots fly overhead, squawking all the way to their roost in the big tree behind us. The Ibis congregate on the highest roof, cackling as I approach with De Boys – Baldrick and Percy – who bounce through the long (tick-infested!) grass, delighted to be free from the compound.
There’s a disgusting smell – trust the dogs to find the rotting corpse of a dog, only recognisable by its canines. Looks like someone’s dumped it here, as it’s half concealed (I bet someone had a nasty shock when they opened that sack!)
As we walk across the football pitch someone shouts out “Muzungu! Can we eat your dog for our dinner?”
It’s OK, he’s just fooling around in front of his mates. I grin back at them.
As we turn the corner back to the house, a Woodland Kingfisher darts through the air, picking insects. How relieved am I to see him!*
Who needs an alarm clock in Africa? My love-hate relationship with the Woodland Kingfisher was put to the test recently
What appear to be flying ants and dragonflies whirl around in the evening’s pink sky. A Sooty Falcon flies overhead. A second one follows. I turn around 360 degrees, necked craned, and count seven of them!
(According to Stevenson & Fanshawe’s Birds of East Africa, this group of Sooty Falcons are migrating on their passage to South Africa for winter. They’re often associated with storm fronts and termite emergences. Another tick on my bird list!)
Sooty Falcons pass over Uganda, passing south for the winter. Photo courtesy of http://www.arkive.org
After this morning’s heavy rains – across Kampala, everyone was stuck indoors and hours late for work – the ground has been heating up all day. The baked murram is now steaming and, from barely visible slits in the dirt track, scores of ants bubble up from the ground beneath my feet.
The long lacy winged ants quickly flutter into action and spiral skyward like sycamore seeds. This unexpected spectacle makes me catch my breath. As dusk settles, they pour out of the earth, upwards and away, a non-stop chain of swirling activity.
Two Woodland Kingfishers rest on their electric perch above the blossoming Bougainvillea. (Simpson wants me to hack the bush back – now it’s looking beautiful!)
After a a few minutes the earth is still and the last ants float skywards to join the huge dragonflies, buzzing around above us. The sound of insects fills my ears as we make our way back home. Is this what it’s like to have tinnitus?
Back in the compound, as I tell what I’ve witnessed, Simpson asks “so did you eat them?” We talk about the enswa, the White Termites that the Muganda find so delicious! Brenda’s eyes light up when I tell her the termites were right outside our house. Oh me, oh my, next time we’re going out there with a blanket to cover the hole and we’ll beat the ground until we fill it!
Let's hope enswa taste better than the muzungu's first taste of grasshoppers (nsenene)
*Regular Diary of a Muzungu readers may remember my love-hate relationship with the Kingfisher that has been waking me up at 5.30 am PRECISELY every day for almost 4 years.
I frequently curse him but last week I thought I’d lost him – and I was worried.
With the rains, the occasional giant cockroach has been appearing in the house in the middle of the night. I’m not quite the coward I once was and occasionally I manage to deal with them on my own. (Makes me feel very grown up!)
Our friendship was sealed when I discovered my housemate Simpson's not afraid of cockroaches! My hero!
One particular night I’d zapped one with Doom. It’s a poisonous spray and I only use it as a last resort: aim Doom at insect, close eyes and spray. I’m sure they’ve got more than eight legs – I can’t bear to look at them. They wriggle and squirm – even the next morning the damn thing’s legs will still be kicking. Answer: get the broom and sweep it out of the house right away.
The next morning I’m sitting at my desk enjoying the view as the Kingfisher lands on the washing line just a few feet from my window.
It’s such a beautiful bird. But what’s that in its big red beak? An enormous cockroach! God it looks disgusting. And I panic, realising it’s probably the poisoned cockroach I’ve swept out the back door a few hours earlier…
I watch the Kingfisher struggling to swallow the big leggy insect – will it too succumb to Doom … ?
There then followed two days of silent mornings: “Please come back and wake me up every morning, please don’t let me have poisoned you” I plead.
And so Mr Kingfisher is back! I can’t be anything but happy and relieved now when I see and hear him (even at 5.30 am!)
“Don’t console yourself Charlotte – it’s a different bird that’s assumed his territory,” Julia chides me.