AFTERMATH OF THE RAIN SONG - Dela Bobobee (i can read book club TXT) 📗

Aftermath of the Rain Song

At mid-morning in the twin Ghanaian towns of Aveyime-Battor, the chanting little voices of naked kids playing outside their mothers’ huts could be heard. They are dancing and chirping happily in the rain. They are singing the famous rain song. “Rain, Rain Go Away”, they are singing, “Come again another day, little children want to play”.

This song is a popular English language nursery rhyme with different variations. It is enjoyed by both young and old. But in West Africa it has a dual implication for both young and old.

The rainy season is here again. Once again the moist monsoon winds from the icy mountains of the temperate zones is sweeping over West Africa. Memories of the harsh harmattan dry season have grown dim.

The rain was expected earlier but instead of beginning in March, the rainy season didn’t start until May, and steady rains didn’t start until late July. Perhaps that is the reason why it is still lingering more than normal.

Last month was September the ninth month of the year when the rain is supposed to subside. September is called “Siam-lom” in the Ewe language of Ghana. Siamlom means “Dry-me-pack-me”, aptly named after September by farmers to depict the tendency of the scanty showers of rain falling in-between rays of sunshine.

Siamlom has the tendency to play hide-and-seek games with West African farmers. When the farmers spread out their grains in the sun to dry, the rain comes intermittently to make them repack their grains to avoid them getting moisten.

But as soon as the farmers hastily pack their grains the rain stops and the sun reappears and shines again. This makes them to spread out their grains in the sun again to dry. This scenario made them to name the month of September as Siamlom.

But up to this month of October the rain has refused to subside. To the handful naked kids outside dancing happily about in the open, the song has only one connotation. They have been waiting expectantly for a romp in a desirable light showering rain while the sun still shines on them through the clouds.

This is usually a very joyous moment of childish glee for the playful kids who are dancing, jumping and rolling in the rain. Some of them are seen sailing their folded paper boats in shallow puddles. Others who do not know how to fold paper boats just sail knotted strands of dry corn husks with hollows.

To the playful kids the rain is not actually being asked to “Go away”, but urged to stay. They are singing the “go away song” not because of its delightful rhyming couplets but because it is the only real popular rain song that is common to all.

But to the adults the dark clouds are seen to portend menace and so they sang the Ewe language version of the rain song.

“Etsi lee me ga dza o,
edzi lee me ga dza o
ke ne do yibo koa
ame ne be ya wu lo”

The Ewe version of the rain song has a plaintive undertone and a bleak meaning. It beseeches the rain not to fall for its intimidating dark clouds threaten to kill or cause havocs.

Suddenly the sun that was peeking through tiny openings in the heavy dark clouds is obliterated. The weather has changed abruptly. The dark clouds that formed an overhanging canopy cloaked any remaining sunlight filtering through the rain.

The hovering dark clouds pregnant with rain have a foreboding stance like a stalking black panther ready to sprint, pounce and strike at its victim.

With practised steps the women are busy placing basins or any available containers in positions where their leaking roofs drop rain water. Wary mothers are calling out to their kids playing outdoors to hasten indoors.

“Kodzo, come inside the house!” The women loudly called out the names of their kids, “Kodzo, Korbla, Korku, Yao, Kofi, kwame, and korsi”

These names coincidentally follow the days of the week. In Ghana names are usually given to children based on the days of the week they were born. Others shouted “Adzoa, Abla, Aku, Yawa, Afi, Amevi, and Awusi.” These are the female versions of the male counterparts mentioned earlier.

The mothers are calling out their names but ignoring their mothers’ warning calls, the playful kids are still lingering in the rain. They are hesitating in the rain like insatiate hens dashing after fleeing grasshoppers at dusk when they are supposed to roost.

Suddenly the sky flares with a powerful blinding light. The blinding lightning flashes across the dark sky in such frightful jagged rays like the formidable forked tentacles of a giant squid.

There is a sudden lull before the accompanying loud thunderclap peals the air. The clashing noise produced by the thunder is really deafening.

The playful children are shrieking with fright. Certainly this was no time to be fooling around in the rain. Running away from the terrifying sight, some of the kids are seen scurrying into any available cover; others clutching at one another, while some of them are screaming their mothers’ names and hastily dashing into the safety of their homes.

The kids are running with blinding speed as fast as their tiny legs could carry them. In the commotion some of them are colliding as paths criss-crossed, some are falling down in huddles, hastily getting up and running home. They are all shivering and cowering.

Suddenly there is pandemonium everywhere. In the cities people are frantically rushing to securely shut all windows and shutters. They are hastily bringing plant pots and other objects on balconies inside. Some of them are quickly checking if their laundry poles were firmly secured.

The harbingers as if goaded by the taunting songs of the kids are lashing out in sputtering drops and later shifting into a heavy downpour. The rain is pouring down heavily in torrents as if the windows of the heavens were open. In such heavy torrential rain a few hours down pour can cause a formidable deluge.

Within a few seconds there are no more joyful sounds of happy children heard. Laughter and sunshine were no more. Only the loud drumming and splashing of the rain is heard. Along the coast of the Atlantic Ocean which washes the coast of West Africa are heard plaintive cries of mournful gulls.

In every village, town and cities in West Africa, this rain song is a paradox. It has another bleak connotative undertone.

The rain is still pouring and pouring heavily throughout the morning and it is continuing into the wee hours of the night. The rain is needed to replenish the patched earth that was licked dry by the merciless harmattan winds that blow over Africa from the arid Sahara Desert from January to June.

During the drought caused by the delay in rainfall many crops withered. Among the crops affected by the lack of rain include West Africa’s cocoa crop. It is a known fact that about 70 percent of the world’s cocoa comes from West Africa, and Ghana and Côte d’Ivoire are the top growers.

The delay in rainfall has also led to water shortages in many parts of the country. Farmers with anticipation pray daily for the rains because the welfare of their crops depends on it. But when it finally arrives it more than often brings its own havoc and leaves in its wake so much misery.

While the much needed rains replenished the wetlands in Mali, precipitation had devastating effects elsewhere in western Africa. Relentlessly the torrential rain continues into the afternoon. Within a short period of time a lot of rain water is causing severe flooding.

These frightened little children of the twin towns of Aveyime and Battor and its environs are just lucky that these areas are not known for flooding. The Tongu Ewe people living along the lush green banks of the River Volta have also in the past had their share of flooding.

They had learnt a bitter lesson in the past when in 1963, the construction of a large hydro-electric dam at Akosombo had caused the river to overflow its banks and flooded these areas downstream. The flood chased these riverine people backwards to new resettlement on higher ground. This is the place they now call their new home.

Every year the people of Aveyime-Battor observe a festival termed 'Tsitsoyi' meaning the Flood Era. It is a ritualistic remembrance of that grim incident of frantic exodus from their former abode to their present location.

During the festival of Tsitsoyi the people of Aveyime-Battor revisit the past by going to the ruins of their ancient adobe to perform rituals. They pour libations and dress up in clothes to depict homeless and fleeing people in flood experience.

In a very colourful and dramatic enactment of past experience the procession march from the old ruins and through the major streets of their new home. Nostalgic references are usually made to the former abode when oldsters who experienced the exodus and resettlemet recount the stories to their new generations.

But other Ghanaian children and adults in other flood prone areas are not that lucky. Over 121,000 people in 26 districts in three Ghanaian northern regions, comprising the Northern, Upper East and Upper West Regions remain in distress as a result of the aftermath of floods that is claiming many lives and damaging several property.

Aftermath of the rain is making about 24 communities to be cut cut-off from the rest of the country. The National Disaster Management Organization (NADMO) is commandeering aid for distribution to the affected communities. Officials of this outfit are using a combination of outboard motors to get to some of the settlements. But unfortunately this is not going to be so with 24 other communities because of tree stumps that constitute a hazard to the rotor of the machines.

About 924 communities and their farms are either being washed away or submerged by the raging waters due to the swelling of major water bodies in the affected areas. Farmers are watching helplessly as their farmlands are being taken over by the floods. The rain is washing away their crops and damaging the rest of their seeds stored in earthen barns.

The death toll is rising as some foolhardy farmers are being swept away while making attempts to salvage farm and household effects. Even NADMO had to relocate some of its relief centres as the floodwaters surged, but it is difficult to do same with most of the communities because of their refusal to leave behind personal effects.

The flooding is being made worse by the opening of the Bagre Hydro Dam in neighbouring Burkina Faso, thus inundating thousands of communities sited along the banks of the rivers. At least 5,104 houses have collapsed, 13 public schools have been destroyed and 30, 000 acres of farm land is being destroyed.
About 24 communities are inaccessible, but the military is providing helicopters that are now being used to reach the people.

In the cities many flooded streets are harbouring several submerged cars in the flood waters. Many of the houses in the towns and cities are being damaged. Many drenched survivors are marooned on top of half-submerged passenger buses and rooftops. Some of them are dangerously clinging on high-voltage power lines while others are