It was a hot and dusty day, but she existed in tranquility. The rat had been caught. It was a baby. It seemed inhuman to torture another living being in such a way, but such were the laws of life. Its little body jerked against the glue, trying to free itself from the thick, sticky concoction that reeked of all things chemical. But there it will remain, until it is blessed with death. She saw a similarity in her life. Trapped by circumstances, there seemed to be no reason to be alive. Death was a dream, not a nightmare. Such thoughts flew threw her mind spontaneously, but she quickly threw them away. I am respectable, she would say to herself. Most importantly, i am a Muslim.
Rayna, as she was known commonly, was a lover of rain. Her emotions matched the colour of the sky. Her face resembled the wan complexion of a stormy day. Like the rain, she lacked sun. There was nothing to look forward to, no one to care about, and no one that cared. It was her faith that singly took her through life. One day, unknown to her then, it would bring her the happiness she always saw in others, but could not feel herself.
Faith is a complicated thing. It turns you inside out, upside down and wrings you like clothes before they are lined to dry. But it is a process that is essential. It tests your spirits and your loyalty. Your unwavering trust.
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The doorbell rang. Rayna went to the door and peeked through the curtains. It was the vegetable seller. She was here again. With her rotten leaves.
"It is not good to eat leaves when there are floods," Rayna told her. "The rain floods the vegetable patch and then the leaves are infested with worms. It is unhealthy. If you grow some other vegetable you will be able to sell it during the rainy season."
The vegetable seller replied meekly, "but i look after elevalu everyday. No rain is coming to my watta." She new that it was a long shot for there was a flood last night. But what other choice did she have?
Rayna grudgingly bought a stack of leaves. She knew that this would pay the lady's children's school fees for the week. She would feed it to the rabbit. Poverty can be a dirty thing, she thought. Especially when you have to see it and feel it, but are not part of it. It brought out her guilt. Why, she did not know.
Hella Jongerius’ ‘Angry Animals’ take a humorous and poignant bite out of
the climate crisis
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At Salon 94 in New York, Hella Jongerius presents animal ceramics, ‘Bead
Tables’ and experimental ‘Textile Studies’ – three series that challenge
tradition...
13 hours ago
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