Africa Poetry

Rainmaker’s Tale

When the green neighbourhood dance to the call of the wild one. Dark are the skies; darker even are the clouds that stalk the rain. The wind came swift and slow; rushing at times as petals of flowers dance. To the music of the coming rain; to lullabies that made heads bounce. And to the Forest people, to the clans that inhabit the wooded lands. A rainmaker was awake, perhaps trying his skills or yet just being mad!  The lightning draws bizarre images across the dark firmament. Causing the trees to look like knights with forks on the footpath. Silhouettes of mud huts stood motionless in the fiery wind surge. Exposed to danger: the rainmakers ire, the villagers, try to dodge. The day turns to night; shelter is the song of the hamlet. When the rainmaker’s strength leaves him or his tools* spent. He lets the strong breezes test on the call of the wild one*. But they wait on the men call him who had mastered the rain.

In Africa, people are capable of making rainfall. Most of these people are the native traditional doctors; those referred to have access to the wisdom of ancient and dead beings and spirits.

Tools*: the rainmaking tools of the rainmaker, which comprises leaves, herbs, and other condiments.

Wild one*: it is evident that the rainmaker and the wild one are the same people. Or yet can be the source of the rainmaker’s powers.


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