Sunday, January 9, 2011

The Rain

I can’t believe it. There are real trees in front of me. Palm trees. The scalding air has maddened me. Oh God, I’ve survived! Trekking alone through the desert with a car like mine that’s just about to fall apart isn’t a nightmare; it’s insanity. But there, a group of palm trees, risen from the sand. Next to them, a house…
       The car abruptly stops, and a man comes out to greet me. He helps me get out and I gaze at the never-ending whitish sky. Above me is the sun, an immense circle of fire. He leads me to a table in the shade and brings me coffee and water.
         “You’re not from around here.”
         “I’m from Europe.”
         “You shouldn’t have come through these parts. The air is too dry.”
         I am knocked out by the dryness. I raise my eyes to the sky again.
         “Does it never rain around here?”
         “It hasn’t rained for about two thousand years.”
         “For two thousand years? How can you know exactly?”
         “My people have always held this oasis because no one has ever wanted to take it from them. The elders say that it rained here about two thousand years ago.”
          “And since then, it hasn’t rained?”
          “No. If it had, the event would have been passed down through stories.”
          “Why did it rain then?”
          “It was in the afternoon, when the sun was burning like it is now in the same season as now. Pentecost(1) was approaching; this is a time when at noon things start to lose their shade and the sun scorches. The elders say that in those times, many travellers came by here. On that day, they were going towards Edom(2) because they were fleeing from the Roman soldiers. They stopped here to gather water from the river that sprang up from the sand and they told stories about the events of Easter: they talked about the crucifixion, about the earthquake, and how the sky darkened. They bowed their heads to the ground then raised them to the sky; they beat their fists upon their breasts, praying to God for strength. My people didn’t understand their fears.
         On that day, there were more travellers than usual. They had come on donkeys. Some were rich and they were sitting down in the shade, just as we are now. They were talking about the crucifixion. Among them, there were three that were unlike the others; a wealthy woman, an old man, and a young woman in mourning clothes. The old man and the young woman didn’t speak at first. The discussion was being held by the others. The rich woman laughed:
          ‘Of course he wasn’t the Messiah(3). I saw him on the road from my balcony.’
           The old man intervened for the first time:
            ‘How do you know he wasn’t the Messiah?’
            ‘Because I saw him. He didn’t stand out to me. He was thin, with no vigour, and he had neither the stature nor the mien of a Messiah. Think of a Goliath(4). Beside him, this one was a nobody. I saw him.’
             ‘Is that all you can say about him? That he wasn’t imposing in any way?’
              ‘Categorically, he was an average man. He wasn’t imposing as a Messiah should be.’
               The young woman’s hands started to tremble as she poured water into a cup. She stood up and caught everyone in her gaze. There was something heavy in her eyes, a kind of determination, but more of a verdict. She knelt in front of the old man:
                ‘I’m leaving. I’m returning to them. I want to be there on Pentecost.’
                 ‘Wait! You can’t leave now! The heat will kill you! Things now have no shadow left and you won’t make it that far.’
                  ‘I’m going. Forgive me.’
                  And she left.
                   Stricken, everyone watched her distancing herself in the desert towards death. The mourning clothes seemed to burn on her in the blinding light. Suddenly, the wind began to blow. It blew from the south, something that had never happened around here, somehow helping her to move forward. In a few minutes, the sky became gray and black clouds had covered the sun. Then, it began to rain. The woman couldn’t be seen anymore through the curtain of water.
                   That is the story of the last rain that fell around here, about two thousand years ago. I’ve told it to you the way it was told to me…” 
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(1)    Pentecost -  the Jewish Harvest Feast on the fiftieth day after Passover; - the Christian feast on the seventh Sunday after Easter commemorating.
(2)     Edom - a region bordering ancient Palestine, between the Dead Sea and the Gulf of Aqaba.
(3)     Messiah - the expected king and deliverer of the Jews; - Jesus Christ for Christians.
(4)     Goliath - a famous giant who defied the armies of Israel and was slain by king David.                           
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      From the volume of short stories “The Line” by Ileana Toma (”Coloana”, Editura Vremea, Bucharest, 2009). Translated from Romanian by Theodora Georgescu.