The Rain
Written By: Jennifer Olenik
April 2010



We hear the voices of rain unrelenting on
What separates us in our mosquito-net cocoons from the night sky,
A tin roof.

It sounds as though the house will be
Plucked from its African plot in the mud, made valuable by
Its mere existence.

The water begins to form rising puddles;
Surrounding us, and we are an island, now isolated by more than
Our white skin.

In the morning, when we arise to the early call of roosters,
And begin our day in the dark, we know the pathway
Will be narrowed.

The pathway along the concrete walls
With cut-out designs lining water-bogged mud roads to
The outside world.

Do we hear the rain?

Yes, we hear the rain, the rain that falls yet fails to wash away
The pollution of poverty and the filth of corruption, to quench
The thirst of malnutrition, to quell the spread of a disease,
An epidemic, with overwhelming force.

The rain could never be enough when diseases remain entangled
With stigma and blame, with gender inequities that leave
Women powerless to negotiate for the protection
Of their health.

The rain falls yet fails to cleanse us from what
We have seen: wards of dying patients ravaged by a disease
That treatment could have stripped
Of its death sentence.

The world stops when it rains.
The mzungus alone walk to the bus stop, our white coats drenched,
White coats that symbolize learning more from our gracious hosts than we can give back at this time.

Have we seen the rain?

Yes, we have seen the rain.
And we will not forget.

Jennifer Olenik is a first year medical student at the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine. She wrote The Rain upon returning from volunteering to help HIV patients in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. She is currently involved in community outreach focused on underserved women’s health in Philadelphia. She can be contacted at jolenik@mail.med.upenn.edu.