Rain
It is afternoon, late in May. Rains a bit. In a short while, if this keeps going on, then it comes to pass what is called "Hujan Bulan Juni" (Rain in June). That's the anthology of poems by Sapardi Joko Damono. I bought about a month ago (or two -- ?). In a more recent date I bought a tape called "Rain Songs" (though actually I saw it on the "special price" rack in the music store, which means it, as a matter of fact, came from the past, being old stock sold half price), featuring songs telling tales in and through the rain. First song is "I Wish It Would Rain Down" by Phil Collins. In the meantime, these last two weeks I've been giving pleasure to my ears, spoiling my aesthetics, by listening to Led Zeppelin's "The Rain Song". Played back and back again. All these are coincidence?
In Samalona the weather still followed some schedule that I learned way back in elementary school. In March it had only one or two rainy days. April you thought you heard the sound of drops of water tapping on the now dry ground outside. May you only got a memory. Then September came the air humidified a little. October it started to drizzle. But on that night, a night somewhere between September-October, it showered drops as big as pebbles of crashed corals. It hurt much as if it had rained real crashed corals too. Not to mention the wind that came along. Well, I spoke to a workmate yelling.
It may come as a disruptive rain, being unexpected and heavy and all. But we didn't let chances like this go by in the island where all you've got was brine in the well. Letting ourselves get soaking wet, we filled all buckets we had, drained them in the water tank, filled them again, until there was no place to keep the rain except the buckets. Troublesome? Might be. I don't know. Didn't get a chance to think that way. And I enjoyed it. A night I will still remember in 20 years to come, if 20 years will come to me. Remembrance of the rain. And the shadows of trees, the size of six adults standing around strectched hand, waving in the blurring rain.
The next morning we found one of the giant trees fell down, unrooted. Thank God no one was injured.
In Samalona the weather still followed some schedule that I learned way back in elementary school. In March it had only one or two rainy days. April you thought you heard the sound of drops of water tapping on the now dry ground outside. May you only got a memory. Then September came the air humidified a little. October it started to drizzle. But on that night, a night somewhere between September-October, it showered drops as big as pebbles of crashed corals. It hurt much as if it had rained real crashed corals too. Not to mention the wind that came along. Well, I spoke to a workmate yelling.
It may come as a disruptive rain, being unexpected and heavy and all. But we didn't let chances like this go by in the island where all you've got was brine in the well. Letting ourselves get soaking wet, we filled all buckets we had, drained them in the water tank, filled them again, until there was no place to keep the rain except the buckets. Troublesome? Might be. I don't know. Didn't get a chance to think that way. And I enjoyed it. A night I will still remember in 20 years to come, if 20 years will come to me. Remembrance of the rain. And the shadows of trees, the size of six adults standing around strectched hand, waving in the blurring rain.
The next morning we found one of the giant trees fell down, unrooted. Thank God no one was injured.
posted by Samalona at 4:43 PM
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