Pula ea tla.

The quiet before the rains is my favorite sound in Ha Selomo. It builds, quietly at first; a mere whisper on the wind. And then you see it coming... A wall of clouds that seem to emerge out of the earth itself, to touch the heavens. You feel it all over... The heaviness in the air that lingers on your skin. The tingling sensation as the wind whips by, threatening to pull you away with it. And then you smell it... You can always smell it. Like earth, and dust, and life made fresh again. Imminence. A coming.

And then you hear the villagers... "Pula ea tla!" They warn, ushering cattle down from the mountains and children into rondavals. Dust storms whip the world into a violent fury, and then.... Silence.

Pula ea tla. Pula ea tla. Pula ea tla.

The rain is coming.

And suddenly... It releases.

Pula ea na. The rain is here.

Secretly, somewhere in an open field in the highlands of Lesotho, young girls tear off their clothes in joy, leaving only parched bodies and dry earth to soak in the rain. They scatter across the barren field, reveling in the wind and rain, that always promises to renew. Then one starts to jump in rhythm... A beat. A tradition. A call to join. They jump high for life. For rain that promises a new beginning... A future.

And you through the wind and rain, you can hear them... Hear them, as the jump and sing:

"Mankokosane! Pula ea na! Re tla hola neng?"
Mankokosane! The rains are here! When will we grow up?

They ask. The rain answers.

With Love from Lesotho... -Mary E.