The Clouds are Angry

Dear friends, as I write this, it’s raining cats and dogs out there, and goodness, the cloud is very angry. Have you read the tale of the angry cloud who flooded the earth, whom he accused of stealing his wife? If you haven’t, don’t worry. I’ll tell you about it another time.

So I’ve spent a long time searching for the right word to describe the cloud’s mood today. I have many words in mind, but I still can’t find the right fit. Here are some of the words: rumbling, humming, trumpeting, thundering, clapping, cracking, barking… The short video below will show my readers the cloud’s mood.

Rainy Season: No Problem

That’s right, it’s rainy season – a period of abundant rainfall, typically lasting for several months. This season starts between late February and early March and continues until late October or early November. That’s a reasonable number of rainy months! Even during the rainy season, it might not rain for days or weeks.

In West Africa, the two major seasons- the rainy and dry seasons have their peculiarities. Though each season serves its purpose well, extreme weather can bring cold, drought, dry skin, etc., which makes people wish it away. The funny thing is, when we wish the rains away and they stop falling, we miss them and pray they return to help with the scorching sun—Vice versa.

It’s fascinating to watch and hear Mother Nature do her thing. I uploaded a short video along with this blog. The video captures the soft drizzle and thunder. J. Okon, a friend, said after seeing the video, “That [the] sound [is] suitable for meditation.”

I love to share this wonderful poem as well. Please have fun and have a decent night in Africa.

Hear The Clouds ☁️

And there this surge of rain on the window side
Steered by a burst of very cold wind
Which ate deep into the flesh of people
And caught rooftops in the crossfire
Between the cold wind and torrential rain
There is no ceasefire, no peace, and no victor
But calm disaster, one conditioned to people

The clouds’ heavy stomach roared above
And what a big stomach she has
For a stretch of the earth –
Marveled at her rumblings!
And each time, she sent
A strong spray of rain upon the boring dirt,
Pursued by a gush of light but a cold wind

Now the day is far spent without the sun,
For she slipped away from the gentle morn,
Leaving a shivering, dark, and sleepy noon.
So this is the day’s tale, made by the cloud & rain.
Fed by a dual dilemma with the cold wind

The rain fades,
Fading and rising,
The wind is thrilled,
Fleeing without notice

I assume that the sun won’t rise again today.