The clouds are hanging heavily low and this post
may lose time if it falls before it is posted. I may be one of the people
keeping the rain away. Workers who have to travel home are afraid that if a
drop hits the soil, the fare will mystically shift from affordable to a luxury.
Women, more afraid to wet their hair will have their moods quickly abated. And
so there are people, against my wishes wishing that it doesn’t rain, at least
not now.
Noisy wet wind…
If the wish of a man was his will, what a world
would we be in? Norman Garbo writes that what makes human superior to other
animals is their hands- not mind. Not legs. The cattle that crossed Ngong Road
today to Dagoretti in search of pasture could also see the hanging clouds and
in their minds, knowing or not whether it will rain, decided not to wait for
death when the herder led them. To fathom the status of grass blades two years
since it showered is to ignore the strive of cactus whose ancestors were lucky
to receive death rains during Noah’s phenomenacal flood.
The grass can just dry. Who cares?
Our green house supply chain stocks vegetables in
the market. It would be the pleasure of such a farmer that if it rains, it rain
destructively. Agriculture is no longer done to feed the stomachs and cohere
families. It is done to take sons to school, buy recent technology, car or
enter a mortgage deal. Not everyone wants the free rain.
It won’t take a day after it starts raining that
uncultivated souls will curse it to go rain in the country side. What is rain
for in the city? The site of muddy roads may not be equally demeaning than the
site of a dusty path. Stagnant water is an enemy. It destroys the tarmac roads,
insects breed, frogs noise up, snails find their way in and movements are curtailed.
We will hate you as we hate our jobs, schools,
lives, friends, parents and many other things.
And so rains please don’t come. Some of us, like
in politics, do not like you. And if grudgingly you appear, don’t spoil our
days. Rain in the night and let the sun rule the day. Let the poor farmers and
their soil remain poor. Do not enrich them. But let us sell umbrellas and cardigans
in masses. If the poor man drowns, it is his mistake. If the rich are swept
away in their cars, the government did not do enough. For we do not know or
care knowing if there is joy in budding lantana
camara.
That is our wish. We, sons of a step mother
speak.
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