Issue 15
Rain
Cecelia Hitte
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Sweet, sweet rain
The American and her Liberian driver stopped for oranges. Their throats were parched. They had been traveling many hours.
In the jeep, the driver sliced the tops off two oranges. He handed one to her. He held the other in his right hand and steering with his left, he put the orange to his lips and drank the juice as though from a cup.
The woman watched him. She put her own orange to her lips and sucked at the sweet rich juice. The juice dribbled down her chin; she wiped it off with the back of her hand.
The rains will come soon he said, tossing the orange rind out the window.
What a shame, she said, thinking of treacherous roads, flimsy bridges, thick wet clay tugging at her sandals as she walked from compound to office.
Not at all, he said. We love rain; it brings coolness and peace from mosquitoes. Rain playing on our roofs is the music of crops and prosperity. Africans love the rain.
The woman considered this for a moment. Then she bit into her orange again, this time sucking harder. The juice dripped down her face onto her neck, sticky and slightly stinging.
~Cecelia Hitte
Cecelia Hitte is a graduate student in anthropology at Binghamton
University. She grew up on a farm in Susquehanna County, Pennsylvania. Email.
© 2004 by Cecelia Hitte. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2004 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.