History of the “ox and the prayer of the rain”
I tell you! But why am I telling you this story of the “ox and the prayer of the rain”? I cannot tell you.
It is not raining anymore ! Around us, above us, within us, the drought is hitting hard! The ox is crying! In the mists of time, it was the ox that performed the first prayer for rain. He is the origin of this prayer of drought or water, whatever!
It is said that a tribe living in a nowhere had a well. It was its unequaled treasure from which men, women, children and cattle drank. In order to bring water out of the well, the only ox of the tribe was put in charge of this chore. Thus, the chief put ropes around his neck and horns attached to cans that went down to the bottom. Once filled, in a back and forth, the ox pulls away from the well, out of the well; the cans are poured into a basin from which the inhabitants came to draw their fresh water.
For two consecutive years, drought has hit the country, the water level of the well has dropped significantly. The ox had to make more effort to raise the cans from the bottom! He lost weight ! With his neck injured, his horns broken, on a blazing day, he fled. As usual, the people of the tribe came to draw water, they found nothing in the basin. They went in search of the runaway ox. At the top of the tallest mountain, they discovered him, sitting on the edge of the ravine, staring up at the sky. He was between tears and meditation. “Why these tears?” the chief of the tribe told him. “I am praying to God, asking him to bring rain,” replied the ox.
Entouré par les gens de la tribu, le bœuf a continué sa prière. Après quelques instants, le ciel s'est assombri, les ravales de tonnerre entendues, et la pluie a commencé à tumber.
A few years passed, the ox died. The drought was not long in coming. Once again, it hit the country. In the footsteps of the ox, people climbed to the top of the highest mountain. They performed the rain prayer: “O heaven, send us rain in abundance, a salutary, fertilizing, beneficial and not harmful rain, which comes quickly, without delay. O heaven, give thy servants and thy beasts water to drink, pour out thy mercy, and bring thy dead city to life. Heaven did not respond. He remained deaf, and the rain did not fall.
And when I wondered why the sky answered unfavorably the prayer of the tribe, risen, the ox, with a celestial voice coming from the top of the mountain, answered me: “The people of the tribe had no no wounds on the necks, nor on the shoulders, nor the traces of fatigue on the faces”!
But why did I tell you this story? I can't tell you.
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