I woke twice last night. Once to elephants, once to thunder. How similar the two. The elephants came at 2:30 AM. They were frolicking in the watering hole, breaking branches, making assorted grunts, and moving the earth with their heavy stride. It’s sort of scary because you can’t see a thing. The new moon had already set, and other than the sprinkling of stars, it was pitch black – just darkness and the cracking of trees from mammals larger than a village hut. It hard to judge how close they were. The watering hole is about 80 yards, but I could hear tromping in the thicket closer. I stood by the window and held out my portable digital recorder in hopes of preserving some of the memory. The second rousing was at 5:00 AM. This was a different kind of trumpet. The real kind, from the sky, the unmistakable clap and roll – right overhead. Thunder! The first I’ve heard. It’s now October 2, so it’s been exactly a month. Africa was honoring the moment. Since I wrote my “Clouds” entry several days ago, there has been a persistent presence of the watery angels. Although the midday sun scares them off, they scurry back at dawn and dusk to plan their mischief. They are growing less afraid, and learning to speak.