Rain

I’m sitting here listening to the rain on the roof. But not just any roof. This is a tin roof. This is rain on a tin roof.

When it pours, it’s deafening. It hurts my eardrums. I can’t think. If I scream, the person next to me can barely hear me. If I’m alone, I just stand in the middle of the living room and don’t know what to do. It sounds like a never-ending cymbal crash. It is spectacular.

When it rains, everything stops. People stand on the nearest porch and look out. Conversations are halted, because you can’t hear. Lessons are interrupted. Since they would have to walk outside, teachers can’t walk from one classroom to another, and teachers already in classrooms can’t shout over the rain. It’s physically impossible.

Then after 20 minutes the cloud goes away and everything feels fresh and washed and the sun comes out and my buckets are full of water, people on their walks steps out from under the porches they had scurried under and continue walking, teachers wrap up and move on to the next class, and life continues on from where it left off.

My bucket fills up with rainwater coming off
the roof. Don't worry - this water goes
 into the toilet, not into my stomach.

The view from my front door - small garden,
bamboo fence, and mango trees.