...and Finally it Rained in California!

Motlalepula (meaning the one who comes with the rain) was the greatest rainmaker in all of Botswana and the neighboring countries. She was the great great grand daughter of Mmapula (meaning woman of the rain), the first of the Kololo missionaries. Mmapula had taken the truth of Ngwale to Europe and parts of North America back when African countries had benevolently established colonies in the west. She was the High Priest and as was tradition in the matriarchy, had passed the calling to her daughter, who then passed it down until it was Motlalepula's turn. Motlalepula had just returned from the symposium on Spirit Transcendence featuring all of Africa's medicine men and women when she saw the vision. 

Mmapula died long before Motlalepula was born, back before the cameras were invented, but when the old lady appeared in her dream she knew instantly who she was. It was as though they were two ends of the same spirit. She was draped in the skin of a black goat, wearing a crown made of ostrich feathers and lion fangs. Her face was covered in the red soils found only on top of the sacred Tsodilo Hills. Motlalepula bowed down and recited the poem that the matriarch was often praised with: 

"Mmapula, woman of the rain. The soother of dry lands and friend of the beasts of the earth!" she concluded the praise and waited silently, with her eyes glued to the ground and body weight shifted to the right side, to hear what the old woman had traveled across spiritual plains for.

"You may lift your gaze my child for I bring news from Ngwale, the maker of the earth and the seven heavens," the old woman spoke ever so gracefully.

"All hail our maker Ngwale, may Her mercies fall upon us and fill our rivers and oceans," Motlalepula answered. 

"Ngwale's people are parched out in the golden state, they have not had rain in over seven years," Mmapula began. "You must travel across the Atlantic, past the Rocky Mountains and the Sierras to bring the good news of Ngwale's love and salvation."

Motlalepula did not waste any time. Before the night was done, she had enlisted the help of the most skilled medicine women --whom in western media they called witches--to deliver the message to all the corners of the great nation of Botswana. Racing to beat the rising sun, they flew in their brooms and needles to deliver the messages to each region's High Priest. Only women could be trusted with this important task. The first part was the easy part: collecting funds for their mission trip. There were still a few followers of Ngwale in California from when California was a colony of the great kingdom of Zimbabwe. But they had lost their way. They had thought they could use Ngwale's magic to enrich themselves at the expense of their congregants and without a care to the earth. So Ngwale had closed Her coffers to them and cursed them with the harshest drought. But She was showing them mercy by sending Motlalepula and her delegation on this mission trip.

"We give to Ngwale's work what belongs to Ngwale," praised the Herero High Priest after she handed over bushels of corn, some sour milk, and bricks of gold. 

"The Herero hails our maker Ngwale, may Her mercies fall upon us and fill our rivers and oceans," echoed the delegation from the Northwestern part of Botswana. 

The Kololo and all followers of Ngwale never had to worry about fundraising. They simply collected and all the twenty tribes in the great nation of Botswana provided with joyful hearts. They knew that everything belonged to Ngwale and they were mere custodians for the time being. So when Motlalepula had sent out the message, all twenty tribes had contributed what they could for her mission trip. From the diamond miners in the south  and the fishers of the north to the cattle ranchers of the west and the gold farmers of the east, each gave generously to Ngwale's work. 

"I bow in gratitude before you, and my heart beams with joy knowing that the people of California are about to know the goodness of our maker, Ngwale, may Her mercies fall upon us and fill our rivers and oceans!" remarked Motlalepula as everyone got ready to dance, feast on all the beasts that were slaughtered for the occasion, and get drunk on the finest wine from the Central region. 

They flew in saucers from the potters of Gabane and took all of eight hours to reach San Francisco. It was an easy trip as they were riding on the tail of sunset. They were hosted by their friends in the Castro, the safe haven for those who understood that Ngwale created a world with so much diversity that there were a myriad of ways people could find companionship and pleasure. They had found their path back to Ngwale because they had love at the core of their community. Wasn't love one of the many faces of Ngwale?

"Do you know that Ngwale loves you and has provided this earth to sustain you while you wait to reunite with your ancestors and with Her in the seventh heaven," Motlalepula asked the woman she was massaging. 

For their mission work, they gave free 5 star spa experiences at all of the malls in the San Francisco Bay Area. 

"Jesus loves me and God is against ancestor worshipping," The woman said. She added, "I don't believe in witchcraft."

"Who told you that honoring ancestors is witchcraft?" Motlalepula asked calmly.

"My pastor did and I read about it in one of Ellen G White's texts," the woman answered.

"Don't you love how these spa treatments have been on your skin," Motlalepula asked, as though to change the topic.

"These African herbs, soils, and creams have done wonders to my skin," the woman admitted.

"We  give these to you for free because Ngwale provided them to you for free," Motlalepula explained. "Her herbs are not witchcraft, they nourish. All She asks is that you treat Her earth with kindness. You don't even need to praise Her because She is a self-loving deity who does not need your love." 

"So how do I grow this plant that you mix into the lotion for the deep massage?" the woman inquired, intrigued. 

"We can show you after this session and you can help us bring Ngwale's goodness to more people," Motlalepula responded.

"If there will still be people left. Everyone is leaving California because the drought is unbearable and the tech people have made it impossible to afford living here," the woman lamented.

"Don't you worry about that, in a week Ngwale will open the skies and it will rain. If you just repent and live in harmony with Her earth, you shall lack nothing." Motlalepula remarked.

For the rainmaking ceremony, Motlalepula went to Mount Tamalpais where she offered ten bulls and some palm wine to Ngwale as a sacrifice. Ngwale smiled upon the sacrifice by sending targeted lightning to start the fire for the bulls to be braaied. All the meat and wine were consumed by the missionaries and their converts on behalf of Ngwale. They had mushrooms for those converts who were not yet warmed up to the idea of eating meat and fish, as Ngwale had intended. They ate and they danced. When the food was done, and there was not a bone in sight, the skies opened and finally it rained in California.