Udemba Eji Ejemba emerged from the forest with a coy smile gift-wrapped to a face that looked like a mask. The punishing equatorial sun had darkened his whole body, he looked rather blue black. Sweat poured forth, and the face shone even brighter in its gloom. His broad, toothy smile was a knowing one; it was to certify that the day, so far, was a gorgeous one, and that he would be able to tap all his palm trees in due time… all 150 of them. He gauged the horizon he was in the middle of, hoping that nature’s savagery was truly abated. For eight straight days it had rained, and in half of those days, hailstones came with it. Fist-sized hailstones fell, punching holes through the roof of every thatched hut in the village. Even though the skies were still belching and growling, and the rains would probably make another big splash, it appeared as if the sun were pulling away from the gray and black clouds to assert her presence in another corner of the sky.