They awaited them as a blessing, a gift from the God of melting snows, dried-up springs, desertified plateaus. For the past four years, millions in the northern regions and in the Rift Valley have been waiting for the rains at the end of March, hoping that, even in hiccups, they might go on until July. As of yesterday, under the great aegis of Mount Kenya, which scattered hopeful clouds across the region, all the way to the Samburu arsuras, the manyatta of Laikipia and the pokot huts, the great rains have arrived.
A happy event, splendid news that must become a daily occurrence from now until the next few weeks to alleviate the drama and tragedy of four years of drought that have reduced a large part of the population of these regions to the lowest possible level.
Food emergencies, dead or sick cattle, fields without crops, malnourished children and elderly people dying of hardship, with the scourge of banditry taking away what little is left and terrorising rural areas. Desperation of the poor people is added to fires, environmental degradation and extermination of wildlife. In one year it is estimated that more than 400 elephants and a similar number of zebras, giraffes and other herbivores have died. An unsustainable situation for which humanitarian aid and the efforts of conservation organisations are not sufficient. And so it can only and always be Mother Nature to remedy the wrongdoings of human beings and their mad rush towards an idea of well-being whose assumptions seem more and more perversions and less and less the pursuit of happiness.
So let it rain, and long may it rain. Not only Kenya, but the whole of Africa and the western world, even to cleanse themselves of a thousand sins, need it.