Monday, July 28, 2014

Harvey Tile Holiday

{In Zambia my daughter Eleanor sees this sign on a school: "A roof without Harvey Tiles is like a school without teachers. There will be illiteracy. and on a police station : " A roof without Harvey tiles is like a country without police. There will be lawlessness] The family ponders on these words]

 It's early morning in Swakopmund.
Cold mist sinks down upon the sea.
A desert lies bleak and menacing behind us.
"A roof without Harvey tiles is like dawn without sun" says my son-in-law Andreas
"There will be chill and desolation."

We travel north on a black salt road.
Sand stretches pale and pink on either side.
Liquid cools in flasks and sandwich edges curl.
"A roof without Harvey Tiles is like tea without cake" says my granddaughter, Isabel.
"There will be tastelessness."

In Etosha the grass glows yellow in the sun.
A pale sky floats above muddy pools.
We sit in silence with binoculars.
"A roof without Harvey Tiles is like a water-hole without game." says my daughter, Eleanor.
"There will be boredom."

But then the springbok, zebra, kudu all arrive
and later floodlit families of elephants with slurping trunks
and later still, a hyena;s speckled head is seen
reflected in the water.

And when I fly home far too soon --
"A roof without Harvey Tiles is like an old woman without her family," I say.
"There will be boredom, tastelessness, chill and desolation."

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