The Rain - A Collection of Stories

By Mala Naidoo

From a valley in Africa to the Cotswolds in England, a selection of gut-wrenching and heart-warming stories on life's challenges and celebrations.

The Rain – A Collection of Short Stories centres on the destructive and regenerative force of rain - physically, emotionally, psychologically and as a metaphor for life. From cruelty to determination, stories are set in diverse locations, each showcasing the universality of anger, loss, fear, sadness, joy, hopes and dreams.

 'The Rain,' title story, tells of a young family's struggle for survival in a rural location in Africa, under threat from destructive, relentless rain. The husband is desperate to provide a good home and care for his three young children and pregnant wife – losing a child to the storm is the mother's worst nightmare. 'Penelope' is a story of a young, country woman's dream of success when two men crush her hopes. Who are they?  'Toby' tells the heart-warming story of a loving Labrador who against all odds, puts human life before his own. 'Desert Quest,' is a brother's and sister's trek across the desert to find their ancestral roots. 'Romantic Recreation' will keep you dreaming of the lives of May and June.

Tension, fear, hope and joy, in the rain of life, underpins each gut-wrenching and heart-warming story.  Solutions to the characters' situations appear in mysterious or practical ways while some are left unresolved.

A soulful selection of short stories, on the shade and light of everyday life, in any situation, anywhere - 'a must read' any day, every day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mala Naidoo
• Release date: Jul 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9780648137757

Mala Naidoo

Mala Naidoo is an Australian author. She was born in South Africa during the apartheid era which is the impetus for her fictional stories. Mala believes literature speaks through the values and culture of its characters, instilling understanding when readers connect to a moment in time, an event or conversation that brings clarity to daily existence. Mala Naidoo is the author of Across Time and Space, Vindication Across Time, Souls Of Her Daughters, Chosen Lives, and The Rain - A Collection of Short Stories.

Book preview

1

The Rain

The rain came down in bucket-loads, drains overflowed, scraggly, rake-thin dogs with spines protruding, sought cover behind abandoned oil barrels, truck tyres, and under rusty chairs.

It rained for fourteen days and fourteen nights, relentless, soaking rain, saturating the ground to a mushy mess, a sinking hole, keeping folks indoors, idle and restless.

The river rose, threatening to gush over to swallow the land. Thuli watched the downpour from her front stoep, hoping, praying that Vincent would be home soon. The children were hungry, the flood prevented her from going to work — the buses stopped coming into the lowlands. The local village administrators barricaded the main road pick-up and drop-off zones, they allowed no vehicles in as the river continued in an angry swell. Thuli pondered how emergency vehicles would get into the valley, visions of being air-lifted with the children troubled her.

She had half a bag of samp and mielie meal. The steamed maize combination constipated her and the children — several days of eating the same food, the only meal available, left the children crying at night, rolling around with stomach cramps. She had three young mouths to feed, the unborn child she carried was incubated from the treacherousness of the relentless downpour. Her baby was due on Christmas day.

Thuli worked as a house cleaner for the Grenville family. They owned a large bookshop in town. She received payment for the hours she worked, not a penny more, no pension fund, no sick-leave, and no maternity provisions were offered. The Grenville’s cook, a kind-hearted old man, put aside a concealed bag of food for her family whenever she was at the house cleaning, ironing and washing clothes. She left the packed food intact, never eating a morsel, saving it all for her family. Once she came home with a roast chicken and vegetables. Seeing her two boys relish every bit of the meal, filled her with joy. She rubbed her protruding belly, drooling for some of that meal to still her hunger.

They were trapped with no access to fresh food, live chickens, fruit, and herbs, disease teemed beneath the surface, and stagnant water was a haven for breeding termites, as one rainy day led to another.

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Her eldest boy, Thabo was a skinny nine-year-old. He missed seven days of school — his school was on the other side of the swelling river.

Vincent worked in the city, a hundred kilometres away. He was a packer at a large courier company. He came home six times a year, every two months, with a supply of groceries and limited cash for his family.

Five-year-old Vusi was growing by the minute, his shoes were tight, giving him blisters and aching feet. He walked with a pigeon-toed gait, to ease his pain. In desperation, Thuli chopped off the front of his shoes to allow his growing feet to relax.

She was a proud woman, she fought her own battles, never begging nor borrowing from anyone.

Mrs Jordaan, the Grenville’s neighbour, wanted the hardworking and trustworthy Thuli to work at her house too. She offered her some ironing, after her shift at the Grenville’s. She looked forward to the extra cash and had already planned how she would use it — shoes for Vusi was number one on her list, then books and pencils for Thabo and a new dress for baby Gertrude.

Gertrude was born eighteen months ago with Down syndrome. Her brothers adored and protected her. Her beautiful smile and open, loving arms brought great joy to their home.

Thuli boiled a pot of water on her coal stove. The chopped wood chips were soggy, she used a dwindling bag of coal to get the stove going. She told Thabo and Vusi to drink the water as hot as they could bear, to lessen the pain of their constipation before they ate another bowl of samp and mielie meal.

‘Eat more samp rather than putu tonight, boys, it will ease your tummies.’

‘When is Baba coming home?’ Vusi asked, ‘I miss him, Mama.’

‘We all do Vusi, we all do, but I cannot be certain when he will be home with this rain cutting us off.’

Thabo looked at his mother, his furrowed, concerned brow made her unhappy that her boy was forced to be older when his father was away.

‘Can we go into the town to get more food, Mama, what about Gertrude, she must be in a lot of pain in her tummy too, she cries all the time.’

Thuli held back tears, going into the town was impossible with the roads closed off, and if they tried to, they would risk their lives.

‘Eish, the weather does not allow us to do that, we have to pray that it stops. I can’t leave you alone here.’

Thabo touched her belly.

‘Mama, you need to eat too, the new baby needs food from you.’

‘Oh, Thabo, you are my old man! You should not worry about these things now. You are a good boy, a growing lad, I need to fret over you, not you over me, my son.’

‘Let’s have a family hug, Mama, it will make us feel better. Vusi, bring Gertrude here.’ Thabo assumed the role of head of the household with ease.

He stood behind his mother, stretched out his arms, the four embraced in a hug, clinging to each other, whispering a prayer for the rain to stop, and for Vincent to return. Thuli felt emotional these days, her overactive hormones, added to her anxiety. She swallowed the urge to sob, she had a duty to keep the children happy and safe.

Persistent low, heavy clouds brought nightfall creeping in earlier than usual into the valley for that time of year, shrouding the once verdant terrain and starlit sky in an eerie blackness.

Thuli organised the children’s bedtime routine before it got too dark. Six candles were all she had, and not enough matches to sustain lighting them for a few more days. She fed the children a watered down putu, made them cups of insipid tea, then swabbed them down in water that had bits of grit that surfaced from clogged, overflowing drains and water-pipes. After reading a few pages from an old copy of The Wind in the Willows, that The Grenville’s had thrown out, she sang the soothing lullaby, Thula Thu Baba to calm her babies to the words that promised the return of their father, their Baba, by dawn.

She sat on the woven grass mat, beside them, watching them sleep — a lioness on guard over her cubs, the rain continued its plummet and