The rain flowed from the heavens like a river.

The rain flowed from the heavens like a river. Every day.
Mornings, some days. Other days it would rain in the afternoon and then again in the evening. Some days the rain would trickle reluctantly from the sky, on others it would pour eagerly into the earth for hours.
Gardens were awash with muddy water. In the brief interludes of sunlight, mosquitoes hatched and rushed to feast on the flesh of the humans before they were flushed away.
Outside suburban strip malls, drunk street people seeking shelter argued with security guards.
On doorsteps across the North, copies of the Sandton Chronicle dissolved into papier mache before residents could return from work and retrieve them.
Irate joggers cancelled their evening runs and loitered, restless, in front of Oprah, bugging their wives with their cynical commentary.
Corporate soccer matches were cancelled and colleagues went drinking at the Su Da Da in Sandton instead.
The rain flowed from the heavens like a river.
In their house off 11th Avenue, Bryanston, Ashley Seegers cancelled his third consecutive golf game and looked at his wife properly for the first time in two years. “So what do you actually do to have fun,” he asked, much as he’d asked her on their first date all those years ago.
In Kew Road, Randburg, Nondomiso Jabavu shook the rain from her umbrella as she entered her flat and finally made up her mind. She was too old to still be commuting to work by taxi. She opened The Star with new resolve. A 2003 Opel Corsa Lite 1.4 could be had for R48 000. Negotiable.
Just off Fourth Avenue, Melville, Pierre du Plessis abandoned the idea of walking to Ratz for a dop and instead dug his nylon-string guitar out from behind the couch. He began strumming the chords to The Rolling Stones’ Out Of Time. Within minutes he had begun writing his first new song since the band had broken up.
The rain flowed from the heavens like a river.
On the N14 to Krugersdorp, Charmaine Hendricks felt the rear of her Renault Clio begin to slide out to the left, catch, then slide out to the right. She remembered the advanced driving course her company had sent her on and began trying to steer into the slide. In doing so, she found herself drifting into the oncoming traffic.
On a townhouse balcony in Morningside the fruit on Joe Naidoo’s chilli plant began turning black and the leaves began to wilt.
In a chilly res room of a University of Johannesburg hostel, Desiree Rossouw huddled around her two-bar heater and put out her last Camel Filter. She turned off that terrible Radio Jacaranda. Charl had not phoned since last week. He would probably phone tonight, it being Wednesday. Then he would disappear again to spend the weekend jolling with his friends. But tonight’s phone call would be different. Tonight she would tell him it was all over. She deserved better than this.
In Sandown, Mark Gericke decided it was time to fix the hole in the roof of his granny flat. As soon as the weather cleared up.
The rain flowed from the heavens like a river.
In Parkhurst, Jenny Murray, snuggling under her duvet in front of Isidingo, noticed a small piece of paper folded into the pocket of her cushion. She’d bought the cushion from a Malawian lady she’d met on the street in Melville. Her new cushions bore embroidery depicting a village scene. The piece of paper told the story of the scene. “Yolanda and Thelma are coming from fetching water,” read the note.
On the N14 from Krugersdorp, Charl Mulder was on his way to surprise his girlfriend. He had been neglecting her lately and she deserved something better. He would be at her res within an hour, and then he would take her to Soulsa on Seventh Street in Melville, where they had come on their first date. It was a few days before Valentine’s Day, but he was working night shift next week, so it would have to be today.
He had even had a Mariah Carey album as a gift for her. Perhaps it would be more fun to listen to than Radio Jacaranda. He took his eyes off the road for a few brief seconds while he dug the disc out of the cubby. In those same seconds, a Renault Clio crossed the dividing line into the oncoming traffic.
And the rain flowed from the heavens like a river.