The Reign Of The Rains Poem by Dela Bobobee

The arid dust-laden wind from the Sahara
Sprayed powder from the north on the land
The harmattan sucked and dried the earth
Livestock and crops wither for lack of water
I heard the parched soil wheeze for damp
Like a thirsty deer pants for water in the jungle
The dry waterholes were long taken over by lions
Only the bravest dare go near for a muddy sip
And close shaves with lurking scaly evil snouts

Devout prayers in church and mosques for succor
Day and night the masses prayed, cried for rains
Until our patched lips and ankles cracked open
But the clouds gather hope to only dispel later
The rainmaker was fetched to appease the gods
With libations and black cocks to cajole the clouds
The rains was expected much earlier but botched

The last dropp of liquor in hoarse drone invocations
Was a deafening silence like the lull before a storm
Suddenly the dark sky rumbled, hissed and flashed
Thunderclaps pealed, opened windows of heaven
The first spluttering drops begot steady downpour
The people sang and danced for the arrival of life
The parched earth guzzled like thirsty wildebeests
Flamingos danced and acrobatic baboons strutted

Day and night the rain poured and soaked the soil
Happy faces turned sour as succor turned to threat
No more laughter or moonlight serenade was heard
Only the dreary sound of gushing heavy downpour
Until the rivers runoff lashed angrily at our villages
The rainmaker tried to sweep crowds with a broom
But lacked the magic of reversal of a torrential rain
Helplessly we watched our farmlands washed away
Those who tried to salvage crops were swept away
Flood waters took heroes who dared swirls to save
It washed away our barns, livestock, kids and our joy

This life-giving liquid we so longed for has taken lives
And left in its wake its own dangers, misery and hope
For after rains come the sunshine and its new sprouts
New straws to mend leaky barns for bountiful harvests
Then another New Yam Festival and a new propitiation
In libations for fertility, to amass children to till the land
We are no strangers to these foul and fair reigns of rains
For the water that a fish lives in is also used in cooking it
We believe in regenerative power of Mawuga Sogbolisa
And so we learn to take our triumphs with our heartaches.