preparing breakfast for Mother, Father and Tuya. Nugai’s milk would have to be good enough to
keep energy going until the blazing sun signaled mid-day. As he prepared to heave his weight
forward and stand, a sharp tickle passed down the back of Bataar’s neck, under his shirt and
trailed down his spine. Something small hit his ear, but as he went to swat it away, Bataar realized
there was no insect there - or anywhere to be seen, for that matter. He wrenched his face away
from his clammy palms and felt another trickle run along the bridge of his hooked nose. Slowly,
suspiciously, Bataar pulled himself up. What was this? He stared up at the darkening sky, and
felt another drop pelt itself at his chest. Jerking his head to his torso in investigation, Bataar
discovered his top was patterned with small little dots. Suddenly, it hit him. Rain.
Bataar refused to believe it - it hadn’t rained for fourty-two nights, and it was impossible
it was raining now. But the droplets were persistent, and now they started falling rapidly, all
directing themselves at Bataar as if to say ‘We listened to you, we know you were hoping for
us.’ The corners of Bataar’s chapped lips began to push themselves upwards, and there was no
stopping the small smile that lit up not only his face, but the gloomy morning’s landscape. He
uncurled his sweaty palm and within a matter of seconds, it was drenched. Others would have
run for shelter or hid from the rain, but Bataar couldn’t bear to leave, for fear that this could all
be a mirage. His broad face quickly became fluid with not only the raindrops, but his tears. Tears
of ecstatic joy and relief. They could stay. They could stay. They could-. His thoughts were cut
off, his happiness jolted, as he realized the pit was the key to their survival here. Unless it was
replenished with the water to last 30 nights, they would be forced to find better living elsewhere.
Bracing himself for the disappointment that would surely follow, Bataar turned around,
inching his feet as sluggishly as he could bear. But when the foot-deep dip met his eyes, he
couldn’t believe his eyes. Truly a miracle, the pit had slowly been rising, and now several inches
had been filled with rain. Without taking his eyes off of the pit, gradually he lowered himself to
the ground. And there Bataar sat, for seconds, minutes, possibly hours, until the pit was on the
verge of overflowing once more. And there Bataar stayed, basking in the glory and miracle that
was a rain shower in the desert. He stayed until his eyes burned from staring for so long. The
sound of the raindrops created a dull tune against the flat roof of the yurt, and Bataar willed it to
continue. He longed for the reaction of Father, waking to the sound of nature’s good fortune.
