My Rain...

“My rain is different than your rain. It has texture and volume. It has spirit and force.”

Giada said this with such passion and conviction that I was drawn even deeper into our conversation together.

Three hours earlier I had been standing on the side of the road in my provincial capital trying to hail a chapa to take me back to my village. It was the day after Christmas and most transport was either full or going in a different direction. It had been raining all day and continued to shower, although not nearly as intense as earlier. I was busy looking for a ride when a man in his thirties came over and started talking to me. It seems he had been watching me from his house for a while and wanted to help. Thinking I was a foreigner he began to offer me advice, and was surprised to find that I lived in a village nearby.

He proceeded to invite me into his home to put down my bags and rest my feet a bit. Seeing as I was beginning to get soaked and was tired from carrying my gear, I took him up on the offer. After a drink and some good conversation, he insisted I stay for lunch with his wife, his aunt and his mother, Giada, who were all together for the holidays.

As soon as I met Giada I could tell she was special. She was a strong, independent and informed African woman who had a global consciousness and a consistent core set of values that molded her thinking. She was knowledgeable of international current events and was a refreshing partner with which to discuss and debate.

After lunch she and I were still talking, when she mentioned that she always wishes on others “health and water.” She said that people should work for what they want or need, but that health and water should always be provided; that they both seem to encompass two great forces that are sometimes out of your control. Other needs usually could be acquired through hard work and ingenuity. I kept thinking, “she wishes a blessing of health and water.” It was such a simple, yet profoundly insightful statement that I kept probing her for more information. That was when she began to speak about the rain.

When she spoke, you could see her eyes light up with a mixture of excitement and endearment. I had never heard anyone talk about something as common as rain before with such vehemence and sincerity. She kept referring to it as “my rain” as if she and she alone held ownership over a very force of nature.

She said that when her rain begins to fall, it comes in large drops; marble-sized balls of water that hit the ground with a great “SPLASH” and leave a crater of dust as they are absorbed into the earth. Then she spoke of the unique smell that is released after the rain drops collide with the ground. She was careful to explain that this happened best in the most rural of areas, the bush, and not really in cities or at the beach. Then she spoke of her rain’s strength, and how you can go outside and bathe in the rain letting it cleanse your body and your mind.

This is a woman who has traveled around the globe and been through two wars in her country. At the very least she has seen rain elsewhere, but in her mind and in her heart nothing compares to the rain, her rain, back home.

A blessing of health and water. We should all be so lucky.