The Bugs and the Bees

It's hard to measure the change of seasons when the weather in Namibia
seems a constant summer. Days are mostly sunny. Skies are often blue.
And the heat, is quite often, beyond unbearable.

But what can't be measured in degrees of Celsius or a climb in
Fahrenheit can instead be observed in the changing species of bugs
that come from seemingly nowhere and disappear without a trace.

January brought the much-storied face-sized moths (endearingly termed
"Boths" by the CATJAR, for their remarkable resemblance to birds and
moths). The drum of their wings against the ceiling meant many a
sleepless night. In early February Boths begat crunchy black dung
beetles the size of silver dollars, which gas attendants and hospital
workers swept into creeping piles each morning as the sun rose.
Beetles gave way to six-legged neon crawlers that humped around on
dirt roads and clung to green waves of grass come early March.

And now--well, now there's just standard mosquitoes that nip at naked
ankles, and black flies that, even in a spacious room, still seem to
swarm around the nearest face.

Whether this entomological evolution takes place every year is tough
to say. But with four times the amount of annual rainfall in just the last
two months, I've seen enough creepy crawlies in Khorixas to last me a
lifetime.

In addition to winged creatures and long-legged bugs, the rains
brought budding leaves, flowering branches, and the kind of greens I
never believed could exist in such a dusty town.

Unfortunately they also brought some heinous allergies, a runny nose
and one incredibly pink eye. But for this girl, the newfound beauty
and escape from the monochromatic was well-worth the temporary
discomfort.

(Pictures of the lovely Khorixas to come, once I have access to a
normal internet connection.)