‘Ua (Rain)

‘Ua  (Rain)

by Tom Conger

Tom Conger is a kama’aina haole (Hawai’i-born White) who has lived and worked many places, but still has his roots firmly embedded in volcanic soil in the mid-Pacific.  A published author, he graciously shares his skills and insights with his companions in retirement.

Rain. Windless rain came down in heavy globules, too big for drops, and rumbled onto the metal roof. The sky had darkened long before the first scant spatters, which began slowly—almost hesitant—then swelled in volume, pouring straight down, a good soaking certain. It was the kind of rain that falls seemingly unbidden from the clouds, not the pounding thunder showers which seem expelled by force; this was more a build-up which could no longer be contained, falling gravity-bound through the murky half-light to puddle resolutely in the gravel.

I didn’t used to like rain—always preventing something I wanted to do, or make, or plant. Upcountry life changes all that—too little water, too many farms. The power brokers in Wailuku use water to impose their dominion over honest citizens: “No meter, no permit,” they de­cree, as they jealously hoard the meters—almost a punitive reign of dictators. We ran the last one out; she couldn’t understand the “ser­vice” part of public service. But the bureaucrats railroaded in her successor—one more of the same. So we must rely on the rainfall to keep the pastures green.

Now I like a good downpour, having done too often without rain—an artless commodity, so precious, so restoring, so intractable. I had transplanted some poha shoots; they’ll welcome getting drenched. The night-blooming cereus is hardly ever thirsty—it’s really a cactus after all—but will take what it’s given, as will the dandelions and crabgrass. The rain’s not choosy; it even soaks the one-eyed cat, rushing back to the house from an afternoon hunt amongst the coffee trees. He licks my hand as I dry him off.

The rain dwindles, then stops. The sky brightens. The clouds be­come distinct, each defined by golden trim.

I look up from towelling the kitty. “Thanks,” I say, “we needed that.”