Saturday, July 02, 2011



Sky-juice got a thousand million sounds.

Depending on the quantity and speed and mood, it is ocean-waves washing on the roof-top, soft and waaaaaah. 

Or it is hard-crashing, threatening to break down your shell.

Sometimes, it is fine bricks pelting zinc-sheets.

Other times, it is big stones banging.

Falling from gutters on the edge of the roof, it hit splickety-splakaty-splaka pon concrete.

From the high PVC gutter, into a plastic bucket already full o’ rain, it drum bonga-bonga-bonga.

On the small zinc roof of the wood-box sheltering the electricity meter, it beat tassa, tang-taka-taka-tang.

Small drops on a wire run together, group into a single drop and ting. Ting. Ting to the ground.

On them leaves, sky-juice make the sound of hands clapping out a rhythm.


Sit in the verandah this morning and listen to the thousand songs of life.


Guyana-Gyal said...

sky juice - Jamaican word for rain.

MartyrMom said...


Pat said...

It's exciting just reading about it.
A French blogging friend had to take shelter from hailstones so large they caused damage.
The gods playing skittles in the sky.

Princess Jibi said...

I didn't know that, but i so love your writing. I miss that when it rains on the zinc roof that thing can lul me to sleep...

john.g. said...

I would "sit in the verandah", but i'm here, and you're there!

Daddy Papersurfer said...

I'll try and remember this next time I get soaked going shopping, slip in the mud and drop everything! [very nice post G-G]

CG said...

I hear the beautiful song "Barish". Very romantic! xxx

dinahmow said...

Indeed. A bit like this?

Miss Footloose | Life in the Expat Lane said...

An ode to rain, indeed. I'll try listening next time!

I was just passing through Munich Germany on my way to Moldova a few days ago and had to stand in a gentle rain after coming out of one of these people-mover buses to get to the stairs leading up into the airplane.

I decided instead of feeling victimized I might as well live in the moment and enjoy it. So I stood there waiting for the people in front of me to get up the stairs into the plane, and just enjoyed feeling the rain on my face and get wet.

Then again, I am Dutch and I'm used to getting rained on ;)

Keith said...

Dat ain't rain goily, dat am 'liquid sunshine', blessa ma soul!

Guyana-Gyal said...

Keith, you're right, rain in Guyana isn't can be warm sometimes.

Miss Footloose, now that's living in the moment!
I like walking in the rain if I'm near home and can get out of my wet clothes soon. Was it cold? BrrRRrrrR shiverrrrr.

Dinah, thank you :-) I will try to listen to, I'm listening to my father's brother [visiting] talk 'old-time' stories and ask my mother about people they both know.

CG, I've never heard Barish...I must try to find it. I bet you it's on youtube. Everything's on youtube

DaddyP, the best place to listen is when you're out of the rain safe from the mud, haha. Otherwise, all you're hear is the cussing in your head.

JohnG, the verandah is just one sheltered place out of all the hundreds of sheltered places. You can listen anywhere you are...except, of course, when you're outdoors, getting wet...

Jibi, when I want to sleep that rain on the zinc sounds like a thousand soldiers marching or football hooligans on a rampage. I must be the only Guyanese who doesn't get lulled to sleep :-D

Pat, I've never seen [or felt] hail. My sister in Florida grumbles because it damages her roses. I don't understand hail. In summertime.
An Amerindian man told me he's seen it fall in the interior here. I was surprised.

Martyr, thanks :-)

cadiz12 said...

sky juice, I love it!

Kathryn Grace said...

I can hear it! All the sounds. I know them. And I can smell it. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Beautiful.

May I suggest you submit this for publication elsewhere?

Hayden said...

Love this! love the rain, listening and feeling. I like watching the hair, but o my, not being caught out in it. Once when I was 19 I was riding my motorcycle on the back roads when the sky suddenly opened and rain the size of nickels pelted down. No where to go for shelter - I had bruises all over my arms! it's hard to love hail...

LDahl said...

Lee said...

Lovely piece.

We had hail in Sydney a few years ago that demolished the roofs and cars right across the city. I still have a souvenir hailstone in the freezer the size of a cricket ball. Mostly it's just the size of peas, but this was freakish and terrifying.

Pat said...

Are you OK honey?

Guyana-Gyal said...

Dear, dear Pat, thanks for asking.

Yes and no...I've been really happy for 2 weeks, then foooof...down. Family visited for 2 weeks, have left recently, I'm missing them, and I'm sad about other things.

Plus powercuts.

I'll blog as soon as I can x x

Guyana-Gyal said...

Lee, I would love to see a photo of that hail. How did you move it from Sydney? Love it! :-D

L, thanks. As soon as I can, I must listen to that song about rain on the rooftop.

Hayden, I have an amusing tale about hail which I must tell one day...

Kathryn, rain after drought is even more beautiful, gosh, I've been watching the news about dust storms in America - Phoenix, I think. Scary.

Cadiz, Jamaicans have a very creative way with words :-)