Tales from the walauwa

by Cat O' Logge

I honestly don't think ten lives would be enough for me to understand these humans. Till quite recently the sun shone and everything was a bit dry, nevertheless quite bright. All around the walauwa you could hear people saying Oh for a bit of rain, ayyo pavilla and -so very hot and a host of other complaints.

Pala would come in for his mid-morning tea and ominously say that if it doesn't rain in two days, just two days, then Lokuhamu's mahogany plantation at the bottom of the watta is going to shrivel up into nothing.

Mahogany

Magilin once remarked that people in the walauwa are paid to work and she will never understand why some people can't go and water the mahogany plants. Pala stopped drinking his tea for a moment when he heard this and in a rather loud voice proceeded to say that some people can't carry buckets of water down to the bottom of the watta unless these some people owned a wahanaya.

Then he got up and threw the remaining tea in his cup viciously out the kitchen door, set down the cup with a loud clatter and without another sound (unless you count the "humph" went on his way.

Blender

Daughter of the house, at home on study leave, took to making fruit juice in one of those machines which really make a very loud noise. She calls it a "blender" or some such thing, but if its noise is anything to go by, it must be a very dangerous machine indeed. How daughter of the house can afford to hum little tunes when she is working with it, I just don't understand. I usually seek the safety of the little space between the settee and the floor in the living room.

But come one day of rain and for all the complaints you have been hearing all this time you would think that they would throw a few parties and dance around in joy and happiness. Ah, but no. Then they sit about indoors, huddled in their layers of clothing (too bad they haven't any hair like I've got. Bet they go green with envy when they see me), but still shivering and tell one another ah, for a bit of sunshine conveniently forgetting that yesterday the sun shone beautifully, yet they wished for nothing but rain, rain, and did I say rain?

They drink mugs of hot tea and literally mourn that it just isn't possible to even step outside in this wet weather with the watta covered in icky slushy mud. All I can say is that they wouldn't go out when it was all bright and sunny either. Too hot for them they said, and Magilin was so sure that she kept getting awful headaches because of the sun.

And just today when Pala came in for his mid morning tea, he ominously said that if it doesn't stop raining just this moment Lokuhamu's mahogany plants are just going to rot away and die and what can some people do anyway? Take a piece of cloth sponge up the water? (This time he drank up his tea). Now it's bedtime in the walauwa and everyone is complaining how terribly cold it is at night. Too bad you are not hairy honey, just too bad.