Watching weather and red earth
September 12, 2012 
From up here you can forget that much else exists and your view of the world is only what spreads away down over tops of trees and the Maasai Steppe beyond; at the moment much of that is impassable anyhow after early rains. It would be all too easy not to leave this place and to become deeply rooted in the red soil along with the coffee; easy to become a recluse and slowly slip off the social calender until, in months to come, people wonder whatever happened to you, not such a bad thing really.
The farm grows slowly around us and the coffee seedlings - planted earlier this year - are now knee height or thereabouts. With a nod to the aesthetics of line and form, they are planted on the contours of the hills, gentle curves that owe much to good farming practice. There is something peaceful about following their lines and your walk always finds direction because of them, although the dogs pay them no mind and have yet to learn to tread softly around fragile roots.
I walk a lot these days, frustrations like lack of power (we're not on the grid) resulting in lack of internet - not so crucial really, except for that lifeline to the outside world - are easier to handle when you've been up to the highest point on the farm and squatted down in the red earth letting the view take away often murderous thoughts. I'm trying to learn patience and that things are not always solved by another glass of wine, when you're at your limit but you can't get off the farm, because 'you can't actually get off the farm' as the rain has made the tracks too slippery and you'll only wrap the truck around a coffee bush if you try. All these things are good, I suppose they're lessons if only I took the time to remember them.
Our house sits in a wind tunnel and at night the wind howls down off Kilimanjaro and roars straight over the top of us. I now see why the back side of the house is largely without windows and also why we block up the hole in the back door at night with a wooden bread board. I've learned, with much cursing, how to start the old cable-pull-start generator for when we need power, two hands and a firm stance are what's needed, it's got a mind of its own and doesn't like me obviously.
It feels far away here, it feels like we've left behind a life that was easy, yes, but a tad dull. Here the challenges are not insurmountable, it's mainly funds - or the lack of - that are much needed, as with any start up project. Our farm, a small but perfectly formed 400 acres, might soon be joined by another 800 or so. You can see that farm on the hills bordering ours, higher up and often in Kili's clouds; out of reach but perhaps not for much longer. We moved in in July, but already the days have blurred and I don't think back to where we were; this place wraps itself around you very quickly, it makes me wonder if we'll ever leave and I rather hope not.
Africa
Reader Comments (19)
So many emotions in this piece, Eliza. Frustration, love mixed together in your words and those images you evoke are so strong. Wishing you all the patience and the strength you need. Something tells me you're there for a long while :-)
Such a different view and vision of how I 'imagine' Africa to be. The lush red soil is - somehow (and it may be just my very small mind) - a surprise to me. No wonder you get wrapped up and swallowed by it all. So peacefully beautiful!
'this place wraps itself around you very quickly, it makes me wonder if we'll ever leave and I rather hope not.' What a wonderful finishing sentence. It spelt serenity and contentment despite the many frustrations, something which is wonderful to find. At any age, in any venture. Thank you.
ah, that red soil that filled my vision on every street this summer in kampala. no wonder there is so much brick. nonetheless, a surprise for me....which brings me to you, eliza, who makes a movie short with your images and words that bring beauty, difficulty, and peace to my small screen.
your place in this rotation fills my heart.
I'm struck with how different life is for you in Africa than it is for us in other parts of the world. So many things I take for granted are not available to you, which leaves me with a deep appreciation for the life you are living.
"Frustrations...are easier to handle when you've been up to the highest point on the farm and squatted down in the red earth letting the view take away often murderous thoughts." I'm reminded of how so many of us turn to nature with our lenses, our journals, our time, and let the earth take away our stresses.
I lived for 3 months in the foothills of the Peruvian Andes decades ago, Eliza, midst coffee trees and Campa Pajonal indians. No electricity, no water, except for the trickle that came down the trough off the mountain. You can do anything for 3 months...especially pre-internet days! To be there now, as in your situation, would feel so much different, I'm sure. Impossible? I don't know. A bit of the rugged back-to-earth is in me, too, so I can taste of what you speak.
I think of being here in the Netherlands and wonder if I will be here for the remainder of my days? Maybe what's important for both of us is how the place wraps itself around us. At least for now it's where you are...where I am...and we watch the weather. A few minutes ago I picked up a chestnut that had just fallen. It's my "red earth" right now and I wrap it in my hands!
Thanks for enabling this springboard for me. I love how you tell your story!
I'm in awe of your adventurous spirt, patience and conviction. Such a sincere and insightful post. And the colors!
Another beautiful trip to Africa, into your world of red earth that seems so mysterious to me. It is so different from my daily life, so different from the US with all its conveniences - another world. I'm still dreaming of seeing it with my own eyes one day.
The red dirt could just as well be Mars it seems so far away. The wind at night, no windows on the back side of the house..eerie and a bit haunting. Sounds like you are living a pioneer existence. Starting, farming a coffee plantation? I don't know the back story but appreciate the telling of it here and your two photos, oh my! They're other-worldly too.
"to become deeply rooted in the red soil..." - what an amazing piece of writing and an amazing story of persistence and patience and of new beginnings.
It's a pleasure to get these glimpses into your life, Eliza ~ so distant & different ~ beautiful land, handsome dog!
It does sound like a wonderful experience and adventure. The challenges are sure to make you grow. I certainly would miss my internet connection and catching up with my friends.
I agree with Anyes -- such a variety of emotions in this post. I can see the beauty and difficulty all mixed together make for a very rich experience -- one that can be frustrating but that you don't want to miss out on either. As always, I love these glimpses of your life in Africa and the beautiful photos that accompany your writing and appear on the Red Dirt Road website.
What an amazing post and glimpse into your life which is so different from my suburban version. The red dirt resonates with me though as that is so much a part of me and Australia and which at times I long for.
Here's hoping you and that generator become fast friends over time.
Thank you all for lovely words and thoughts, and glimpses in to your own lives.
As always I think - how I LOVE being a part of this group!! :)
I am gobsmacked by the colors in your images. It makes me realize that the colors of Africa are not just in the clothing and jewelry, but in every day. Gorgeous.
Laterite. The bane of housekeepers in dry season, the coating of the bush, the bringer of spectacular sunsets. One of the most well-known books on Liberia is "Red Dust on the Green Leaves" - and so it was. Your post brought it all back, not to mention the homesickness. Strange that when I went to West Africa, I never was homesick. When I returned to the States after four years, I missed Africa desperately. I came home in 1977 - by 1983 I couldn't stand it any longer and went back for six weeks. It was different - there had been a coup - but upcountry? It was the place I loved.
Then the civil war came, and everything changed. But I'd go back again, if I could. Since I can't, I'll enjoy your posts and remember all the stories!
Gorgeous image, and a gorgeous peek into a life, a world, so different than what most of us find ourselves living. Filled with many challenges, I am sure, but also with its own blessings and wonders and goodness. Growing things has taught me more patience than anything else in life... yours is growing right along with those coffee plants. xo
Oh wow Eliza. How I love your writing style...as if I'm reading poetry about your life. Thank you for sharing your feelings.. I can so relate to how an easy life can become quite dull...and understanding of the need to be challenged! If you ever need a helper for a bit, let me know! My bucket list contains helping out on a coffee farm, a rice field and herding sheep. :)