The Rule of Rain

C. Assefa

my grandmother opens the front door as we sit in the living room

the gust of the storm reaches us on the couch

greeting us

as we sip our boon

throwing her hands in the air, giving thanks to God

it is Raining

that means that today 

the seeds will be nourished

she reminds me that

my mother left on foot when

the Rain refused to fall 

for a long time

that is why I was born so far away

the dry heat may return tomorrow 

so today

we must give thanks for the Rain as

it dances on the tin roof

making a song so loud

you can feel the beat of its drop

in the depth of your ears

the electricity goes in and out

I sigh 

as the downpour interrupts my evening plans to

meet my friends in Kedamay Woyane

the city center of Mekelle

The streets get so muddy when it Rains

it is impossible for the bajaj drivers to move and 

many of the minibuses delay their routes 

When it Rains, it pours

there is a certain reverence that strikes the city

Not the frustration 

or threat 

or exasperation one feels when considering having to drive home

in such weather 

in the west

“Harehsee,” my Grandmother repeats to me: rest. 

I pretend to comply while plotting to get out of the compound

Once she falls asleep, I throw my raincoat on and 

I walk

I get strange looks from people sitting in cafes and souks waiting for the Rain to pass 

as I move along the street, stopping at various storefronts for a brief relief. 

Some men yell at me from inside

and I imagine how bizarre my actions must seem to them

an unattended diaspora woman 

walking in the Rain

They ask me why I am in a rush? 

I have an appointment

It can wait, they urge me

asking

why are you disrupting the business of the earth’s pour? 

Here, everything and everyone stops when it Rains. 

Time stops when it Rains

It could be mid-morning and folks will stop working when it Rains to sit together

People moving along the city streets pop into the nearest cafe and 

take a break

at the first sign of a cloud relieving itself unto the earth

Two people meet under the shelter of an entryway

and find respite in one another’s company. 

Laughing. 

Exchanging numbers, they 

Connect

Under

the rule of Rain. 

Here

the Rain is the mediator of time, life, and death

and no one resists.