Thursday, February 7, 2013


The world does look cleaner after the rain, doesn't it? A few minutes ago, it was raining heavily. It looked like a scene from one of those horror movies where people get stuck at some strange house because of a storm. Isn't it weird how we use movies to explain real life yet movies draw from life. An egg and chicken situation?
Anyway, so the rain. It was stormy; winds blowing, tall trees swaying, cars almost was beautiful! I got wet. I ran through the rain because it found me outside. Contrary to what most people expect, it wasn't my hair that I wanted to protect, but rather my clothes. It is the middle of the day, on a week day, I am at work, I definately do not have a change of clothes. I wish I could have stayed outside.

When I was younger, these kinds of rains were my favourite. I would savour those moments right before a heavy down pour. I was a bit of a strange child, still am; I would go and walk around in the compound, face up to the sky. I would run and let the wind blow through my clothes, I had no hair for it to blow but in my mind I felt as awesome as if it had. Rain; I don't think I've ever not celebrated rain. I may wish at times for it to hold off until I've found shelter or until an outdoor event is done but I've always celebrated rain.

I have a friend. He writes beautifully but never have I seen him write more intimately than when he's writing about rain. Maybe, to him, it is more than just ice cold drops and swisshing winds. Ask him to tell you about himself and you might not get much. Read a piece of his about rain and you might just find something.

"...when it rains I picture the droplets splashing off trees leaves, grass blades and the cemented pave ways of my lawn splashing with glimmering cymbal sounds.
I Listen to the pathways that the winds blow making the rains sway, as though wind running its hands through the clouds hair.
And as I listen, deeper, I hear the silent whispers as drop cuts through air so easily as though coal on ice.
I hear some of the rain slide off the roof edge fall in a simple synchrony to the trench below where the waters twirl in a dizzying whirl of circular foamy white as though to imitate clouds from whence they came.
 I inch closer to listen and watch droplets whisper and dance to their pitter patter on earth.

Even closer I inch as drips of rain rest on my skin tickling my feet like soft feather caress..."

and when you think it's just about the rain...

"The rain. Mystery of my memory.
Why do I love your speak when your speak drenches me?
Makes my back tire with heavy soaked cloth?

Why do i cherish your cold embrace, your chilled touch, and longed for icy kiss when this is just a fleeting moment?

Is it for the fact that the icy kiss freezes my heart from feel?
The cold embrace help chase away all sense of thought?
And the chilled touch blind the eye from loves sight?

If so then rain hail upon my soul.
Send the icy cold blocks of tiny imperfection to cut through my skin and place there within the knowledge that imperfection is the beginning of perfection,
And that fruits sprout not from a stem but from the dirt.

Let the lightening strike shock my soul to life
And thunderous bellows send my fears bellow.
May the thick dark tufts of cottoned clouds shelter me from the blinding light bright ridiculing my sight!
And hide the stars that go about tainting the coal night that shelters me from the day light.

But now it drizzles, and I wish it could rain.
Deep thick sheets coming down endlessly,
Drowning out the voices so that I may be wrapped in its thick icy embrace,
Numbing my nerves with every drop…
Inch by inch
Until I am immovable like a rugged mountain."
Jason Ntaro

This, my friend is intimate with the rain and takes me back to when I was a child and just walked in the rain. Rain, mystery of my memory. Rain.

No comments:

Post a Comment