Another good poem, Amy. Your descriptive powers in the poem are highly
impressive making depiction so clear and familiar- Mam Yallah
sottil................used to be my favourite rain verse when I was wee and
growing up in Serekunda London Corner and Baddibu Kerewan. Keep it up!

Bailo.

>From: amy jallow <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Gambia and related-issues mailing list
><[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Naweet
>Date: Tue, 29 Mar 2005 00:54:29 +0100
>
>  Naweet
>Black clouds of sustenance
>Gather and loom overhead
>Lightning and thunder, messengers
>In tow, heralding what is about to follow
>“Mam Yalla sotil mbuse bi, gorgi tegal tama bi”
>Chant juveniles clad in nothing but loincloths,
>In anticipation of the impending downpour
>Hurrying footsteeps, racing home,
>Cursed at the impudence of a plastic flip-flop
>Daring to come undone at a time like this
>Farmes in the field praying to hoe one more lane
>Before the ‘taw’
>Dance in a frenzy of movements
>Rumblings reverberated in the distance
>Quickening the steps of young mothers
>With babies strapped to their backs,
>Yanking dry boubous and pantaloons
>From the clothesline by the hand-fuls
>“Almost done, one more to grab”
>When the first cool droplets decided
>To moisten the rusty iron corrugated roofs
>The classic melody
>Of ‘piti pata, piti pata’ magnified
>By ‘celeingless’ houses
>Greeteed the senses
>Increasing in intensity
>With each and every bout of lightning
>Puddles form quickly
>Creating watery barriers between
>Na Mariama’s and Na Fanta’s
>Respective abodes,
>Strengthening the rivalries
>Between these two Co-wives
>Giggles and laughter following
>The antics of little feet
>Not hesitating to jump into
>Muddy pools of water
>Splashing unsupecting, grumpy, ‘tawtee’ victims
>Stray dogs race  away in the rain
>In their eternal quest to evade the
>Bloated,lethagic flies
>That vehemently clung to
>Their ever juicy ears
>Promising to never let go
>Trees and parched grasslands
>Drink their fill of cloud juice,
>Swelling with satiation in the process
>Slowing to a drizzle,
>The barrage finally stops
>The earth saturated with energy
>Burst forth with seedlings
>Patches of plants germinates
>Bringing life
>The fragrance of Mother Nature
>Fills the air with a heady sensation
>Ants and termites scrruying
>To build new dwellings
>Flying insects in the pursuit of mates,
>Flew in droves
>For by the end of the day
>They will  be lying wingless and dying
>With their eggs embedded in the soil
>Waiting for the next torrential rainfall
>To release them
>The seductive aroma of ‘Churayee’
>Assails the nosetrils
>In an effort to smoke away insects
>And to entice ‘Nijaaye’
>Freshness pervades the air
>As the sun in all its glory
>Cast tiny droplets of water
>Into a gigantic rainbow
>Promising ‘Domi Adama’ once again
>That never will there be
>Another flood in the magnitude of Noah's time.
>
>
>
>
>
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