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The Sound of the Rain

The rain---sounds like catapults fired on our roof drops like palm kernels---splash on the back cover of our black pots, Stamping the roof like horse galloping on a narrow bridge. Is it war ? we ask ourselves. And its comes along with Jealous wind beating trees to pulps. The plantain treesare no more standing with their toes but lying belly faced to the ground, the palm trees in razzmatazz dance to the calypsos Of the wind their hips fixed but their hairs swirls The sound of the wind plays the tune of an invincible piper who was well paid and skillfully trained. The African rain Is like a tornado sent by a weird mate to greet a foe his, competitor So as to end the play of his dancers stop the beat of his drums and gongs. On his feasting day as he refuses to settle the ground We in groups of seven, eight, nine ten---at the heart of the town, nooks and crannies and front of our compounds with belly flashed open unto the maker chanting poems in unison to tell how beautiful we love it when it pours. With sandy coloured panties, we dance In ecstasies to the unrhythmic beat of the rain drops, splashing dirty waters on each other body parts a sign to depict our new happy days ahead whoever misses out this fun is a loser we dance dance!! dance!! and dance the winner the best dancer Is carry on the shoulders with awards of applauds and joyous loud wailing calling loud his name in repetition. At times we catch little fishes In the frontage of our homes as the nearby rivers, and streams overflow into the dirty clean streets with drainages stock by polythene nylons--- and our joyful mothers, who sing songs of melody In their heart for a heavenly pour to greet their water pots for a cool drink, are seated in poetic manner l while some stand at akimbo thinks the disasters it might cause them their roof to cure. Usually at nights mother goes around Our beautiful clayed hutmaking little amendments to our brown blistered basket mouthed roof and the drops it had sneaks through. And the prayers our hearts we pray its rains no more---lets little ocean is our comfort. https://youtu.be/hdZqDP0vMfk

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things