“The Night the Storm Came”

An original work by Neresa Joseph

The night it came was a night like any other…..it had just started getting dark, and the yard fowls had already started flying up into the branches of the old ackee tree for their night slumber…..the crickets were singing their mellow tunes, and from down by the old pond one could hear the steady croaking of the frogs.  As I gazed out the window of our 2 bedroom old wooden home I’d already lost count of the glowing night flies as they seemed to multiply before my 9 year old eyes. Pa had just gotten home, and was mentioning how still the night air felt. Ma sent my brother and me to wash up for dinner…..it felt like just another routine night in Genip Village…..that is, until the dogs started howling…..from as far beyond as the ears could stretch, all the way down to old man Willy’s cabin one could hear them.  Pa mentioned something to Ma about the rains possibly coming, and Ma crossed her eyes, as everyone in Genip had for months been praying for the rain and nothing had happened.

We had just finished up dinner, and I’m sure the yard fowls had just tucked their necks into their feathers when the first pitta patta came…..it started softly on our roof like a slow tantalizing tap dance, then suddenly the rain erupted into the sound of bullets on the thatched galvanize roof. From inside we could smell the steam as the rain quenched the dry roof. It fell in torrents all evening, enveloping our village in a thick curtain, bringing huge puddles and life…..

The house shook and groaned on its stilts, and outside we could practically hear the trees swaying as they bent in prayer with the howling winds. Putting my ears to the wooden floor, I smiled at the sounds under the house as through my mind’s eye I saw all our yard animals huddled there, seeking warmth and refuge.

Outside was dark, cold, and raging, but inside our home I’d never felt so safe and comfortable as I snuggled under my blanket and was rocked into sleep by the sweet murmur of my parents’ whispers, and the sound of the rain on the tin roof.

The next day I was up before dawn…..my little brown feet tiptoeing across the wooden floors so as not to wake anyone. Barefoot, I ran outside exploring and picking up all the fruits that had fallen from the night before…..There were puddles everywhere, and my toes sank into the velvety earth.

Everything looked so clean and new, it was as if our village had been white-washed…..the old pond had been re-impregnated by the rains, and old man Willy’s once brown logged cabin was stained black from so much saturation.

The sun had just started coming up by then, and as its rays gently touched a dew drop, I gasped at the beauty as it sparkled, and burst into a kaleidoscope of colors.

I still get nostalgic when I think back to that night and time…..older village folks, then, said that never had they seen rain like this…..that God was certainly pleased!

If one was to travel to Genip Village now, most of the folks are gone and our little wooden house is still standing, though overgrown and dilapidated…..but in those that have remained, even their little ones could tell the story, of the night the storm came.