The land was ready and ploughed, waiting for the crops. At night, the earth was alive with insects singing and rustling about in search of food. But suddenly, by mid-November, the rain fled away: the rain-clouds fled away and left the sky bare. The sun danced dizzily in the sky, with a strange cruelty. Each day the land was covered in a haze of mist as the sun sucked up the drop of moisture out of the earth. The family set down in despair, waiting and waiting,. Their hopes had run so high; the goats has started producing milk, which they had eagerly poured on their porridge, now they ate plain porridge with no milk. It was impossible to plant the corn, maize, pumpkin and water-melon seeds in the dry earth. They sat the whole day in the shadow of the huts and even stopped thinking, for the rain had fled away. Only the children were quite happy in their little girl world. They carried on with their game of making house like their mother and chattered to each other in light, soft tones. They made children from sticks around which they tied rags, and scolded them severely in an exact imitation of their own mother. Their voices could be heard, scolding all day long: ‘You stupid thing, when I send you to draw water, why do you spill half of it out of the bucket? ‘You stupid thing! Can’t you mind the porridge pot without letting the porridge he burn? ‘Then, they would beat the rag-dolls on their bottoms with severe expressions.
The adults paid no attention to this; their nerves were stretched to breaking point waiting for the rain to fall out of the sky. Nothing was important, beyond that. All their animals had been sold during the bad years to purchase food and of all their herd only two goats were left. It was the women of the family who finally broke down under the strain of waiting for rain.