Yam Story Excerpt 4

Rain

The morning brought on an enormous downpour that started just before dawn and continued, relentless, for more than two hours. Alison and Noah thought they knew what heavy rain was from their stay at Kaokara, but this was something more intense and more enduring. Looking out the window, they saw every walking path transformed into a tiny stream. Little bits of coconut husk and stray cooking leaf were carried away. A slant to the village ground not previously noticeable became apparent by the slowly creeping direction o f the light sheet of water enveloping the hamlet. Water moving as one slow creature passing through the village to consume the detritus of earthly life; water falling from the sky with the force of ropes dropped from miles above; water of a shifting mood, first hurried and giddy, then steadier, a runner going a long distance, then filled with the rage of a tremendous, petulant toddler; water arriving as the landlord, coming to remind the tenants that the boss was at home, and planning on using every room; water that soothed, at last, like a blanket of night, realizing the mind into an abyss of quiet and inactivity, because the water allowed so little human movement; water that arrived as a guest, welcome, but called upon its own kind to join the party, and overran its hosts; ill-mannered and sloppy in its behavior; water that shook the houses and silenced the babies’ crying with its amazing basic parenthood over all things; water with hands that took whatever was for the taking; water that could shake any island to its foundations; water that told them, you are all so tiny, and made them all feel relieved to be tiny.