As the young man began to walk down one of the many roads of the small village, he began to hear something. The man was named Johnathan Tel, he was a war photographer for a small town newspaper hoping to move its way up in the field of information. He was on the continent of Africa, or to be more specifically in Turan, a small town in Kenya.

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As he proceeded down the dirt road, he studied the houses that made up the town. They were shanties, a home that was made up of a combination of tin or metal sheeting for the roofs, and rotten wood for the support beams and the walls. The dark crimson rust glimmered in the afternoon sun, though it quickly faded as an arriving cloud flew overhead, blocking the sun. He turned his attention back to the village, “Strange,” he thought. The village had been affected by the incoming raids from the rebel faction. “Typical warmongers.” He thought to himself, as he studied the closest shanty and found what appeared to be bullet hole in the walls.

He looked at the wall from top to bottom and then another interesting bit of information arose. He looked at the ground in front of the shanty and saw that it was dried, he then looked around the road that he was on, and he discovered that it was all barren earth. “These people have nothing already, and yet they wish to take their food and water? Savages.” He proceeded down the street, in the direction of the center of the town. “I wonder where they went,” he though, as he looked at the front of another shanty and saw that there was toys for small children. He stopped to stare at the small figurine, it was made of brown clay with bits of hay and string to decorate it. Jonathan identified it as a mere child's doll.

Jonathan placed the figurine in his bag, and then saw a flash of dark skin dart by. Then as quickly as he saw it, it was gone. Before he could determine what he saw, he heard drums playing, it was coming from the center of the village. He hastened to locate any survivors from the attack, to see if they were okay. As he drew closer and closer, he heard the drums become louder and louder. It was only after he had gotten near the center did he hear the chanting. It was in an African dialect, and he could not interpret it. Out of even more curiosity, and fear, he began to run towards the center of the town.

When he finally arrived, he saw what appeared to be a ritual. In the center of the town, he saw that there was a circle of drummers playing a continuing beat, and in front of the drummers were people chanting and dancing. Jonathan felt a tug on his right pocket, he looked down to see a small Kenyan boy looking in awe at the stranger. The child was malnourished, and was barely clothed, aside from a loincloth. The child looked at Jonathan, and then smiled. Then he looked towards the other members of his people and began to run towards them shouting excitedly.

The people continued to chant, as if attempting to gain the attention of something higher up. Jonathan saw the boy with several other children, playing to the side of their parents. It looked as though they were playing tag. The boy realized that Jonathan was looking at him and smiled, then his facial expression changed. The boy looked up for a moment and held his hand to the sky, and yelled to his family. Then a massive amount of rain began to pour down to the chanters and drummers. They ceased their ritual and began to gather their pots, pans, buckets, anything that could store water.

Jonathan realized then, as he saw the children playing in the rain that the adults had been conducting a rain dance. Jonathan and the boy exchanged glances at each other. Then the boy’s friends called to him, beckoning him to come play. Before he turned to leave he waved goodbye to Jonathan, all the while displaying a warm smile. As the boy turned to leave, Jonathan noticed that he had a small figurine in his hand.

Confused, he took the figurine he picked up earlier and looked at it. The boy had an identical figurine, strange. Then as Jonathan began to take shelter from the rain, he noticed that the area where the drummers and chanters were conducting their rain dance all had one. In the spots where they had sat or stood there was a small clay figurine, that resembled the one Jonathan and the boy had.

Putting the pieces together, Jonathan looked at his figurine and smiled. "I suppose that despite the fact that people may be in their most trying times, as long as they hold even a shred of hope that makes all of the difference. Despite the war that is going on right now, as long as these people keep their faith and believe that someone or something is out there, that's all they need."

Jonathan looked up at the sky, and the rain clouds pouring down a torrent of water onto the area. Then he looked back at his figurine and smiled as he placed it back in his pouch. Then came the thunder and a lightning bolt in the distance, as Jonathan began to look for shelter he jad one thought. "These people have seen turmoil, and have had the strength to move forward. I can only hope that other people are able to believe that as long as you have hope that's all that matters, and in the end you are rewarded."