The Wise Woman's Call

Not a single plant has grown since my birthday this past June. And it’s going on August now with no signs of rain coming. Not a taste of moisture in the air or the sight of swelling, dark clouds looming over the horizon. Only the never-ending presence of the beaming sun. Seemingly, baking everything below to a sizzle. The sight of the arid plains makes me frown. I turn around swiftly, tired of looking at it. I pick up my bucket and begin my journey to the community water tower. The last of all the water in this small town. There’s already a line of people by the time I’m there. All of them are neighbors that I’ve known my whole life. I feel sweat beads from my hairline down. The water tower groans as its’ fluids are drained. I stare at the green bold words that read Bountiful over the rusting surface. It too seems to be withering away like the rest of us.

***

The door creaks as I step into my old, rickety home. The air smells stale. My father looks at me gruffly and sets his cup down on the kitchen table.

“You got the water, gal?”

“Yes, daddy. They weren’t able to give us much though.”

“Figures,” Then he stands “Go see your grandmother. She’s been asking for you all evening. I’m going out.” He pushes past me, the door slamming shut in his wake.

I walk, bucket in tow, to Granny’s room. The light of a sole candle illuminates the room. Basking the containments inside with a warm glow. Granny’s thin form rests underneath her favorite quilt.

“Granny” I pause at the doorway. Her eyes open softly as her mouth stretches upwards- creating deep crevices in her face.

“C’mere, Child. I worried about you being out there all by yourself” she urges me over with a gentle, raspy voice. I feel myself smile while taking her withered hand in mine.

“I’m fine Granny, I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m fifteen now.”

“I know, but you’ll always be my little Annie.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“Oh, same-o-same-o. Trying to take it one day at a time.”

I can’t help but to feel my mouth pull downwards. I know she’s putting on a brave face, but her health appears to decline more and more these days. But I can’t lose her. She’s all I have besides Papa. However, he’s never been able to look me in eyes. Granny says I have my mother eyes. A mother who died giving birth to me. I think that’s why Papa treats me the way he does. Because it was me who took the love of his life away.

“Where’d my grumpy man of a son go”?

“I’m not sure, he said he was going out.” Granny hums at my response- deep in thought.

“He’s just upset about the crops. Don’t take it personal, sugar. We’re all going through a rough time.” I can’t stop the sigh that leaves me.

“I know, but that’s the thing. No crops, means no medicine. We barley have enough water to drink for a week. Let alone to bathe or wash anything. And how are you gonna get your medicine. You need it! But Daddy doesn’t have the money to buy th— “

“Shhh, girl, quiet. Relax your mind. You gon’ stress yourself silly if you keep at it.” I give her pleading look. “Everything’s gonna be alright. Trust me. The citizens of Bountiful are strong and proud people.”

“The town name should be changed.”

“I heard what you said. Stop all that muttering. You know why we’re called Bountiful?”

“Yes” I sigh “because it used to be so lush and abundant. Soil so fertile— “

“That a seed can sprout in an hour” She beams. I roll my eyes at the story.

“So, what changed Granny? Why is our land so barren now?” Her brows furrow as her mouth forms into a tight line.

And then in a low ancient sounding voice she answers “In the days of the old, the land was plentiful. For the people still honored the land and their origin. Now, the land is only seen as something to profit from. To take from. And the people have forgotten who they are.”

I stare unflinchingly into her old eyes.

“So, we’re doomed?” She chuckles whole- heartedly.

“Girl, you sure are dramatic.” She wipes away an invisible tear. I feel eyes begin to narrow.

“Granny, but this is serious.”

“Fine, fine. I do remember there being wise women who would do a rain dance.”

“Rain dance?”

“Yes, a ritual with chanting and dancing.”

“And it would work?”

“Well, it would rain. Sadly, the last time I saw a rain dance performed, I was about your age.”

“Are there still wise women around?”

“I’m not sure. Wise women were used for all sorts of things. Healing, prayers, births, and deaths. For the land, people, and animals alike.”

“I hope I can find one.” Granny closed her eyes and began humming. I sat beside her, caressing her hand and hair. I feel entranced by the tune as I thought of a way to save Granny, save the crops, to save us all.

***

The next morning, I woke up feeling like I swallowed sand. My hair dry and brittle as the leaves outside. Lips as chapped as ever. I tie my braids back and wear my cleanest dress. Nevertheless, I push on to Sunday Mass alone. Granny too ill to come and Pa being a no-show. My boots crunching on the arid landscape as I trek onward. The brown of my skin soaking up the sun’s rays. At church, the seats were filled with devoted patrons, seeking answers from Holy men. Bodies pack together in a small space. I pinch my noise at the smell. Who knows how long it’s been since anyone has been able to bathe? The reverend preaches hope and glory, but with no real plan. Many of the townspeople have already left, losing hope and faith that it will work out.

After service, I ask Rudy (my schoolmate) if he knows of a wise woman in town.

“Wise woman? I know about a witch who lives on the edge of town. But I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”

“Why not?”

“Because my older brother said she’s the one who cursed the town— cursed us all.”

“I’ll see for myself.”

***

My breath comes out in pants I make my way to the wise woman’s house. The air tasting dry and gritty. Finally, I begin to see the outline of an old wooden abode. The home looks as if it’ll give out at any given moment. I stand there for a while. What if she really is a witch and curses me? Or worse, Granny? But this is my only choice. There aren’t any other options. I ball my fists up determinedly, until the nails cut into the palm of my hand. With steady steps I walk up to the door and knock three times. No answer. My knuckles rapt against the wooden door harder this time. The door swings open midway on the last knock.

“What do you want. Disturbing me from my sleep?!” I sense my face scrunching up. She was short in stature and wide. Hair wild and eyes gaping. Her mahogany toned hand clutching a staff.

“But it’s one in the afternoon.”

“Can’t you see I’m old” she shrieks “Now, what. Do. You. Want.”

“U-umm, I wanted to know if you’re the wise woman?”

“What business do you have with a wise woman?”

“Well, I was gonna ask if you could perform a rain dance.”

“Rain dance, hah. Like you and any of those other ingrates will get anything outta me. I bet you don’t even have any money to pay me.”

“But the town is in dire need. People are dying. You can die too. Don’t you care?”

“I hope I die and take this town with me.”

“Where’s your heart- your soul?”

“No, little girl! Where were the townspeople hearts and souls when you ran all of my family out of here?” My breath stops in my throat.

“Where were y’all compassion, huh? With all that my family has done for this godforsaken place. Y’all deserve to suffer. You’ve forgotten your way.” I kneel on the ground, pressing my forehead to the torrid earth.

“Please, I beg you, please help us. I promise not to make the other’s mistakes. I’ll tell the townspeople that they were wrong. My father’s crops are failing and I’m not sure how much longer my sick grandmother has.”

The old woman is silent- studying me for any flaws- any deceit.

“What’s your name girl.”

“Annie, Ma’am.”

“Well, Annie I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be of much help. Not with this bad leg an all.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

“You? It takes years to learn the chants and moves correctly. Not to mention that you have no magic in your blood. It can be catastrophic if you do the dance wrong.”

“I know I can do it, I have to. Just give me a chance.”

“Fine, I can show you how to do it. But you’ll have to teach yourself. It is up to the land if you are worthy or not. For the rain only spills at the cry of the wise woman’s call.”

***

For the next three days I practiced every chant and move day and night. Only taking a break to run errands or tend after Granny. At times, it seemed too hard and troublesome. I began to wonder if I really could accomplish such a huge task. The weight of the lives at stake feels too heavy for me to bare. After all, I am just a girl. But then I remember the crops, townspeople, Rudy, and Granny. I want to save all of them. I want Papa to look at me without a face of disdain for once. I want him to be proud to be my father. I want to be proud of me. So, I push on like I have always done.

On the day of the ritual, I walk onto the field dress in white. My feet bare and face veiled. My heart thumps through my chest in rhythmic beats. Beats that resemble drums. I take a deep breath in and sing as loud as my lungs would allow.

Oh, my dear sky won’t you cry for me

How I miss your tears from above

Oh, my dear sky, won’t you cry for me

Won’t you please fill us with your love

I continue to chant as my arms and feet move in circular motions. Trying to entice the rain to come down. The bells on my ankles and wrists chime in the wind of the greying sky. Perspiration building in the air. I hear the chatter of people nearing, mesmerized by the weather and song. I dare not stop.

Oh, my dear sky, won’t cry for me

How I miss your tears from above

Oh, dear sky won’t you cry for me

Won’t you please fill us with your love

I speed up my movements. My body twisting and turning. Spinning, jumping, and landing. My heart racing— lungs burning with effort. However, I can’t give up now.

Won’t you cry for me

Oh, please cry for me

Won’t you cry for me

Oh, please cry for m—

A loud crack resounds over my chant, encouraging me to sing even louder. My heart and bells reach a high tempo as I feel the first drops of rain land onto my face. The very first drops in months. I finish my dance, unable to tell the difference between mine or the sky’s tears.