Meanwhile back home Maria was carrying out a similar ritual. This she dedicated to Keetchkolen- Most Beautiful Lady. Instead of three candles she lighted four. Maybe it has to do with the phases of the moon. Maria is all mystery.
When Pedro reached his hut he was soaking-wet. For days the weather was wet and hot and the cane plants got no better in fact they were rotting in the fields.
Corn was getting dearer and dearer and Pedro had very little cash left. He heard it said that the large growers were buying up the small ones. He might as well sell-out his field and go somewhere else. It was a hard decision for him to make but it seemed the only way out. Tomorrow, he thought, I’ll see Mr. Nog he might want to buy my field or rather what’s left of it.
Later that evening dogs were barking down the village trail-those noisy dogs always barking at someone or at no one. This time their barking was getting closer to where Pedro lived. Yes, someone was coming on foot shooing away the dogs that got too close to his heels. Pedro heard someone calling at Tomaso’s hut but no one answered. He heard footsteps and then “Uncle Pedro.” the voice said, “Hello Uncle Pedro”. He got up and as he went to the door he almost bounced up with Jose. “Jose, sobrino” he said as they hugged and slapped each other’s back.
Pedro’s surge of happiness was short lived and it didn’t pass unnoticed to Jose.
-say uncle, is anyone sick, Jose said, and where is uncle Tomaso?
-No one is ill, Pedro said, and Tomaso is visiting friends; I’m thinking of moving.
-Moving? Jose said, Why?
In their village nobody moves out unless something very serious happens. One who leaves his village is considered worse than if he leaves his country.
-It’s the Evil-rain Jose, Pedro said, the Evil-rain has destroyed my fields.
-the Evil-rain has it’s remedy, Jose said.
-I’ve done everything I can, Pedro continued, I’ve said prayers, fulfilled promises, kept my vows
-There’s more that can be done, Jose said earnestly. Let’s go to your field tonight I’ll show you.
What can Jose know that I don’t know Pedro said to himself as he walked to his field that night. It can be witchcraft or black magic and these things are evil, Pedro’s thought went on.
When they reached the field there was a strange buzz in the air.
-Rain is coming and we have no shelter here, Pedro said.
It is raining it’s the Evil-rain, Jose said as he caught his uncle by the arm. “Listen”, he said, listen how it falls on the leaves. His uncle was trembling and was speaking not a word. Surely there was a sound as if drops of water were falling on the leaves. Jose flashed his Bash light. A cloud of insects could be seen darting all over the field, bug like insects with reddish stripes over dark grey bodies. These are which destroy your fields.
This is the Evil-rain. they are FROGHOPPERS.