Rain!

“I shall give you rains in their season, so that the land will yield its produce and the trees of the field will bear their fruit.” Leviticus 26:4

Ah! The rains in their season! Anyone who has been to Africa in the rainy season will appreciate that verse! There is nothing quite as wonderful as the African rains--the way it splashes as it lands in huge drops on the dirt roads, the way it sounds as it pings down on a tin roof, and especially the way it smells! Yes, rain has a smell; one that is cool, refreshing, and full of promise.

The rainy season was the best of seasons. Everything was green and lush. The flowers bloomed, and the trees yielded their fruits. We had a guava orchard in our back yard when we lived in Ogbomosho. My father “gave” us children a few trees which we could eat freely from but he told us to keep our hands off of the rest. My mother made jelly and preserves from the other trees. The children’s trees seldom had ripe guavas on them since they were gobbled up before they could mature. Many times I have climbed high into the guava tree looking for the perfect guava; one that was large, smooth (no bug holes), and not quite ripe--the perfect color of yellow/green.

Rains in America are cold, even in the summer time because they usually accompany a cold front. In the states, when a cold front moves in, it can rain for quite a while, sometimes even days, if the front becomes stationary. African rains are quite different. During the rainy season, it rains at least once a day in a short refreshing burst of cool water. The rains bring a welcome temporary cooling of the hot ground and air. As a child, I played in the rains as often as I could. My siblings, friends and I would sense the rain coming, put on our bathing suits and meet in the dirt road that ran down the middle of the mission compound. We would play barefoot in the mud as we watched the downpour make little rushing streams in the road. The mud squished between our toes, and the smell of the rain engulfed us.

Once when my father was traveling home from a preaching engagement with my little sister and me along for the ride; a rock from the dirt road flicked into our windshield. This was before the days of shatterproof glass and the rock shattered our windshield. Fearing glass would blow onto us as we traveled the rest of the way home, my dad stopped and carefully removed the entire windshield, one little piece at a time. This would have been a good idea, except for the fact that it was rainy season. Sure enough a sudden rain storm blew up and my father had to drive with the rain pouring in on him. He told my sister and me to get in the floor of the back seat so the front seats would partially block the incoming water. I remember thinking it was one of the grandest adventures I had ever experienced. My sister and I hunched down in the back, each behind a seat and giggled at each other as the water pooled at our feet. I don’t think it was as much fun for my poor dad though. He drove slowly on ahead in spite of the rain in his face. When we arrived home, we took warm baths and then my mom made hot cocoa. That too was an adventure! I had never had hot cocoa in Africa before...or since.

To this day, I love a summer rain. My sisters and I have talked about the fact that we enjoy watching it rain. A house I once lived in as an adult had a screened porch and I would always sit out there when a storm was blowing, though my husband thought I was crazy. My sisters say they like to go outside just before it rains too. I have talked with many of my childhood friends and have come to find that loving summer rains is a common trait among people who have experienced the tropical rainy season.

Life as I Knew it

Shades of Green

 By: Jane Ray  

            There is no more beautiful place in the world than Nigeria during the rainy season. This is especially true if one should live in the bush. The daily rain washes everything new and sparkling, making even the dirtiest village seem clean.

            The rainy season begins with a line squall which blows with hurricane proportions. The sky darkens and it is as though the black clouds have been punctured, for the water falls suddenly in heavy torrents. Winds up to 70 miles an hour rip through the compound, scattering limbs and branches from the trees and even uprooting them. Tall palm trees bend beneath the fury of the gales. As the rain falls, making rivulets in the roads, puddles in the yards and filling the water tanks, the dirt spatters roof high before turning into mud.

            The earth becomes soaked causing hundreds of ugly, red worms to wiggle their way to the surface in writhing masses, causing squeamish people (like me) to step gingerly around them.

            It did not rain all day long during the rainy season, The day was filled with intermittent showers, and in between the showers, the moisture hung like glistening beads on the leaves of the trees and flowers, promoting rather rapid and vigorous growth.

            I would stand at the window of my house trying to identify the shades of green I saw after the rain. It was as if the colors were being squeezed from an artist’s color tubes, ranging from a green so dark as to be almost black on the mango tree to the delicate blue-green of the ferns growing wild, to the bright yellow green of the lacy fronds of the palm tree…and the colors went on and on.

            The mango stood out from the others by its size and its slick, magnolia-like leaves, while the other fruit trees – orange, grapefruit, lemon, and lime had the advantage of flecks of bright orange, yellow, and white peeking through the branches where the fruit grew on the trees.

            I could see the bush-like guava tree glistening with the dampness and as the vapor rose from the humidity, I could almost see the fan-shaped papaya tree growing taller while I watched.

            Everything flourished during the rains!

            Our driveway was flanked by several beautiful palm trees loaded with the blackish-red nuts the Nigerians pressed and used for cooking oil. A kapok tree 150 feet tall stood directly in front of our house and back by the Koto (where we burned the trash) the pineapple garden added yet another shade of green.

            There were many beautiful plants and trees in our yard that served no other purpose than to be enjoyed for their beauty and fragrance. The Frangipani tree was one. The changing hibiscus was popular as house flowers for vases and bouquets as well as corsages.

            Once in Lagos, a French lady crossed the fence between our yards and begged for just one flower to wear to a party. We told her she was welcome to pick as many as she wished. Later she sent for several choice blossoms and at Christmas time she gave our kids chocolate and a big red ball for two year old Chris.

             The bougainvillea, a thorn bush type of plant, grew on nearly every compound. White and variegated crotons and coleus were planted in neat flower beds next to the house. Poinsettias grew in crimson abundance and I never tired of seeing them growing in the ground. The only way I had ever seen a poinsettia before was potted at Christmas time.

            Many people imported roses from Ireland, growing them in clay pots to protect them from being eaten by white ants. When we lived in Ogbomosho, Stanley decided to try his luck with Irish roses and our conversation was soon dominated by “Rose” talk. We had beautiful “teacup” roses as well as a creamy apricot Peace and delicate Pink Queen Elizabeth.

            After a rain it was so refreshing to sit on the veranda and just enjoy the green, rain-washed world with its fresh, wonderful smells. During a rains storm once, I remember playing cards with another missionary couple. While the rain steamed off the roof of their screened-in porch while enjoying coffee and cracker spread with peanut butter. It seemed especially delicious! Perhaps the goodness of this simple treat was enhanced by the freshness of the cool rain all around us.