Sometimes, Juba has its moments.
It’s been a long week. Wads of work, satchels of stress, cornucopias of contemplations (yes that alliteration just happened).
And then this afternoon I came home just as a storm was rolling in.
I’ve mentioned before how spectacularly epic I find storms here. The way they roll in, wind roaring on all cylinders, ominous clouds like a perfect gray painters palette speeding across the sky, lightning punctuating the silent ambiance. They’re truly something to behold.
And tonight was no different, but sometimes the storms offer up their show in a perfect angle at a just a perfect time. Tonight’s show blew in – just before sundown – from the south and out over the airport, which is down the hill from my house. The bulk of the first round of rain skirted around farther north of the city, and so instead of avoiding the drenching in the comfort of my room, I walked up to my roof and sat there watching this storm cover the land in the distance, perfectly bookmarked by clear patches of rainless vista, outlining the storm.
And then the lightning flashed, and the wind roared, and the cold air felt like a renewal.
I often [lovingly (mostly)] mock Juba’s many peccadilloes, but every so often it’s nice to be reminded that this place has its profound and peaceful beauty, too.
And that’s a lovely thing.