Plane Gazing.

When you talk about laughter, hers floats across the space like a genie from a lamp. It’s sensational and a bit tingling. And as always I would always recognize that laughter from anywhere. Even if there is a vast multitude of people I would still figure it out. It came from the stomach. One that was rich and full of life. Her energy pulses like the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The one that would infect you with happiness. The type of happiness that comes along when a child has sugar rush just from taking a bottle of Fanta orange.

We are lying in an open field next to their home. My head was on someone’s daughter’s laps. Her stroking my head, laughing and making jokes. Her nails were well manicured and polished. Just the two of us, with some slow classical music playing in the background from the Bluetooth speaker. There was a bottle of Black and White that lay by our side, two tumblers that were quarter way full and a picnic basket. A DXL Cannon camera next to her. Just to capture the moments. Having that picnic together was her idea. I love my own company. I have the best thoughts when I’m alone. But it wouldn’t be bad to change the scenarios once in a while. Isn’t it?

“I’ve missed you,” she says. Her fingers still stroking hair which has now become sort of rough. “I honestly thought that you wouldn’t come.” She tells me. Her voice has a silky touch within it. It’s one of those voices which you can never get tired of. I don’t reply. I want to feel the moment. I close my eyes and allow myself to feel the gentle breeze flowing from the upperside of the field heading downwards. There is a river below. It is shallow and has clear water flowing through. You can see the river bed that fine silt lies underneath the water. I can hear water splashing and children giggling. I bet they are up to some mischievous games. Probably their guardians told them not to play with water lest they get soaked. But that is none of my concerns as per now.

She has brown topaz eyes. The sort of eyes that tell you she has been through a lot. The type which tells you that she is street smart and tech savvy. She has a nose ring. I can’t fathom if it’s a piercing or a ring. Her smile is infectious. It radiates the whole world emboding it in bright shiny white light.

Beyond the river there is another field that goes on yonder till it reaches a gorge. In that gorge there are reeds. I don’t know if they’re papyrus reeds. But those reeds reminded me of Wangari Maathai. They reminded me of Israelites crossing the red sea. They had a significant meaning. It was like a fence. A fence that separated two fields. The other field ran on and had few dotted structures. A few specks of silver and grey shining here and there.

Along these three fields there are masts. Tall masts that had several lights. The masts were placed in a systematic manner. The light masts were on the lower eastern side of the far end of one field and on the western side of the far end of the other field.

The sun was generous. It didn’t scorch. It was favorable and allowed us to bask into its glory soaking all the elements and warmness of vitamin D. “I’m glad you came.” She says once more breaking the silence that had crept between us.

“It’s a nice view from up here. The breeze, clear sky, and the soft trickling of water running down the river. But most important is that I missed you too.”

A hum of a plane could be heard. It was like a small speck in the sky at first. But as drew closer it became much more clear and visible. The plane had its landing gear out. It was getting ready to land. Then it hit me why the lights were there. Why they called this place Mataa ya Ndege. I figured out that the airport was in the direction that the plane was headed to.

“Pass me the camera, this moment will not pass me.” I tell her. She hands me the camera. It’s a mammoth. Especially with the huge lens that stick out of it. A few clicks here and there snapping planes. Lots of planes actually, then I get up and point the camera towards her. I snap pictures of her, many pictures of her. I’m still awed by her beauty. She looks gorgeous. I snap a picture of her capturing a shot of me with her smartphone. I hand her the camera. She takes a few shots of me.

We sit down on the field. Our tumblers still untouched. I pick the bottle of Black and White whiskey lying down idle. It can just lie ther like as if it has no other business being there. It has a business. That is to refill our damn cups. Haha. I refill them and we toast.

“To many more views.”

“To many more sunsets.”

“The sun has not yet set dummy.”

“I know that’s why I haven’t left yet and I wanted to see the sun go down with you.”

“Before you go, you should take a look at my back yard garden. Been doing some little farming.”

“You farm?”

“Yes I do.”

“Want to help me tend the garden, have your hands dirty a bit?”

“Sure, wouldn’t mind at all.”

We take long sips from our tumblers full of whiskey. We sit in silence. Her fingers intertwines with mine and we both stare below the field, at the river where children still splashed water on to each other. We understand each other through the thin veil of silence. A lot is spoken through it. She clutches my hand tightly as the sun goes down. We stand up dust ourselves. We put things back together in the picnic basket. We both take photos of the setting sun and she holds my hand. Leading me to her back yard garden.

Her garden is full of life. It has pumpkins, few date seedlings, tomatoes, onions and irish. She goes back in to the house, I can hear a baby crying. I hear her hushing the child not to cry. I hear a few other voices in the house. I stand for a few minutes marveling at her garden. I was a little bit envious. I have never tried my hand in farming. She calls me into the house and I go into their lovely home.

It has a nice smell. A smell of scented berries and fruits of the forest. She is carrying a child. Her daughter. She is the most beautiful child I had ever seen. The child stretches herself towards me. I pick her up from the mother. She is the light skin type. No. Her skin was caramel in color. She had jet-black curly hair that were soft. She had clear crystal eyes. She calmed down when I held her.

“What’s her name?”

“Lynn.”

“Hello Lynn, pleasure to meet you my little niece.”

“If you were not here and perhaps would be in a plane. Where would your destination be?”

“Tokyo.”

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