The Rain Came Lesson plan
The Rain Came
Grace Ogot
The chief was still far from the gate when his daughter Oganda saw him. She ran to meet him. Breathlessly she asked her father, “What is the news, great chief? Everyone in the village is anxiously waiting to hear when it will rain.” Labong’o held out his hands for his daughter but he did not say a word. Puzzled by her father’s cold attitude Oganda ran back to the village to warn the others that the chief was back.
The atmosphere in the village was tense and confused. Everyone moved aimlessly and fussed in the yard without actually doing any work. A young woman whispered to her co-wife, “If they have not solved this rain business today, the chief will crack.” They had watched him getting thinner and thinner as the people kept on pestering him. “Our cattle lie dying in the fields,” they reported. “Soon it will be our children and then ourselves. Tell us what to do to save our lives, oh great Chief.” So the chief had daily prayed with the Almighty through the ancestors to deliver them from their distress.
Instead of calling the family together and giving them the news immediately, Labong’o went to his own hut, a sign that he was not to be disturbed. Having replaced the shutter, he sat in the dimly-lit hut to contemplate.
It was no longer a question of being the chief of hunger-stricken people that weighed Labong’o’s heart. It was the life of his only daughter that was at stake. At the time when Oganda came to meet him, he saw the glittering chain shining around her waist. The prophecy was complete. “It is Oganda, Oganda, my only daughter, who must die so young.” Labong’o burst into tears before finishing the sentence. The chief must not weep. Society had declared him the bravest of men. But Labong’o did not care any more. He assumed the position of a simple father and wept bitterly. He loved his people, the Luo (a tribe in Northern Kenya and Uganda), but what were the Luo for him without Oganda? Her life had bought a new life in
Grace Ogot
The chief was still far from the gate when his daughter Oganda saw him. She ran to meet him. Breathlessly she asked her father, “What is the news, great chief? Everyone in the village is anxiously waiting to hear when it will rain.” Labong’o held out his hands for his daughter but he did not say a word. Puzzled by her father’s cold attitude Oganda ran back to the village to warn the others that the chief was back.
The atmosphere in the village was tense and confused. Everyone moved aimlessly and fussed in the yard without actually doing any work. A young woman whispered to her co-wife, “If they have not solved this rain business today, the chief will crack.” They had watched him getting thinner and thinner as the people kept on pestering him. “Our cattle lie dying in the fields,” they reported. “Soon it will be our children and then ourselves. Tell us what to do to save our lives, oh great Chief.” So the chief had daily prayed with the Almighty through the ancestors to deliver them from their distress.
Instead of calling the family together and giving them the news immediately, Labong’o went to his own hut, a sign that he was not to be disturbed. Having replaced the shutter, he sat in the dimly-lit hut to contemplate.
It was no longer a question of being the chief of hunger-stricken people that weighed Labong’o’s heart. It was the life of his only daughter that was at stake. At the time when Oganda came to meet him, he saw the glittering chain shining around her waist. The prophecy was complete. “It is Oganda, Oganda, my only daughter, who must die so young.” Labong’o burst into tears before finishing the sentence. The chief must not weep. Society had declared him the bravest of men. But Labong’o did not care any more. He assumed the position of a simple father and wept bitterly. He loved his people, the Luo (a tribe in Northern Kenya and Uganda), but what were the Luo for him without Oganda? Her life had bought a new life in