One hot summer, the land was dry with thirst. There was dust everywhere - on the trees, on the roofs of huts and houses, in people's throats and eyes, even in the air. All over the village people were coughing and sneezing and choking with the dust. Even the poor old Sky was not spared - it was so close to the ground that the slightest bit of wind would set it coughing with the dust that rose from the parched land.
The bent Old Woman's hut too was covered with dust. The old woman swept and swept and swept the little hut with her broom. She swept the inside of her hut, she swept the outside of her hut, she swept the front step and she swept the front yard. But the dust rose all around her in great brown clouds - the more she swept and plied her broom, the more the dust that rose from the earth.
The poor Sky began to choke with all the dust that the bent Old Woman was raising with her broom. The dust got into its throat and tickled its nose and made it sneeze - a great big sneeze that shook the world with its thunder. People covered their heads and ran indoors in fright. But the bent Old Woman barely noticed - she kept on sweeping with her broom.
The Sky sneezed again - the dust was becoming unbearable. It got into its eyes and made them water - so that great heavy drops of rain began falling into the dry dust below. The bent Old Woman barely noticed - till finally a big splodgy raindrop fell right on to the patch she had just swept.
Why the Sky is So High cont'd...
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