Mud

I spent the afternoon today working in my yard - pulling weeds, picking ripe vegetables from the garden, planting new sunflower seeds, moving never-ending piles of rocks and bricks. By the end of the day, I wasn't just dirty and sweaty; I was covered in rich, thick, dark African mud. I don't know what it is, but there's something about this mud that's different from any other mud I've walked through elsewhere in the world. It really takes hold of you. It clings to shoes, clothes, hands, legs, arms and anything else it can. And it refuses to let go. Whenever I come in from the garden, I have to scrub as hard as I can to clean my arms and legs, and, even then, after I've turned my loofah and the water draining from the shower brown, my skin is still stained with a reddish-brown tint. It's not until a couple days later that I ever notice it's completely gone.