Rain and missing elephants

They said we could have rain at the drop of a hat. And the Chinese were suppositiously labouring over it. But I didn’t know they had it on express delivery! The promise of artificial rain was delivered with lightning speed. There’s rain everywhere, drowning out an oppressive drought; the only pickle is there’s too much of it. The Chinese apparently can’t turn it off; there’s a glitch in the switch of the whole shebang these days. The Government isn’t complaining. The rain has washed out a thousand pickets, dimming out protests of all kinds.

“We badly needed rain and to put a lid on protests, marches and jihads of the green brothers. So we asked the Chinese to hasten cloud harvesting. And of course, we were counting on the second-hand apparatus of the Chinese to help us kill two birds. It’s a washout for all protesters,” Minister Wimal Weerawansa said in an email response sent from his Gmail account.

Meteorologists this week predicted clearer skies for the Government, forecasting that incessant downpours will continue to keep protesters at bay. Earlier, in a damning sign for the UPFA, protests were brewing in their dozens. From bus drivers to their successors (yes, protesting students), doctors and proctors, teachers and preachers, every Silva, Perera and Soysa, have been at what the islanders are best at: complaining and protesting.

Leading Opponent Ranil Wickremesinghe hasn’t been seen out since the Government induced rain. The greens aren’t a happy bunch. Neither is the Family Planning Association. Rain has an amatory effect on people and is a known aphrodisiac. Family planning folks are reminding people to always carry an umbrella.

Oh, well, my wife doesn’t seem to know that it’s raining! “What, your wife, too?” Well, send me a mail if it’s not raining in your part of the woods too. May be we can get the Chinese to do something about that too.

Last weekend was a treat exploring the vast expanses of the backwoods of Yala on foot. This is elephant country and usually you’d bump into dozens of them in the vicinity of Weliara Wewa. There wasn’t even one to ask the time. Farmers have pushed the forest line back by hundreds of acres. The landscape remains spectacular nonetheless; the kind of terrain few would ever get to see in this magical island we call home.

I couldn’t wait to tell someone about our escapade. Two traffic cops on the way back to Colombo were all ears. On a long stretch of vacant road, they were waiting for me. I nearly missed them as I overtook three alert motorists crawling at about 40. If not for a yellow crossing probably meant for elephants, they would have missed me, too.

It is in the middle of nowhere that I met the nicest cops I have ever met. Young and debonair, they were overwhelmingly polite and friendly. They liked my demeanour and said they’d not give me a ticket. A long and courteous lecture on traffic offenses would be my punishment, they said. I enjoyed every bit of the half hour I spent with them, going over the rule book and learning about the unkind realities on the line of duty. They blessed me with the Triple Gem as I bade farewell. I left with new admiration for the uniform; a harsh job, indeed.

It’s still raining. I hope my wife notices it.

(Dinesh Watawana is a former foreign correspondent and military analyst. He is a brand consultant and heads The 7th Frontier, an integrated communications agency which masterminded the globally-acclaimed eco tourism hotspot KumbukRiver. Email him at dinna7th@sltnet.lk.)