Freelance cricket writer based in Zimbabwe
It is the rainy season in Zimbabwe, and the entire country is carpeted in green. Every year, this place undergoes a remarkable transformation with the coming of the rains. When the heavens open, the soil offers a telluric blessing, a faint petrichor that tells us this: a desiccated land deadened by the annual drought has somehow come back to life. Where there had been just dust and bone, now everywhere something sprouts and grows. Even on that greensward temple, the cricket field.