Summer Rain By Safiya Bandele
/“Oh no! Not rain!” Mada was awakened by a mental alarm that rain might be coming in the living room window of her small Brooklyn apt. It was a humid Wednesday nite in July — the night before visiting her boyfriend at GreenMeadow Maximum Security prison in upstate New York. Prison visitation was always freighted with anxiety in the days leading up to the visit. Like the night-before prayers: “Lord, please let my alarm go off in time so I won’t miss the van…please let us have a safe trip despite the rain…please let my boyfriend and me have a sweet and loving visit.” Sometimes the prayer was for an uneventful visit meaning no visitor would be arrested on the spot for - foolishly, in Mada’s opinion - attempting to bring in contraband (generally drugs). An arrest delayed the processing for everybody!
After picking up passengers at designated borough stops, by 5:30 am the 14-seat “Family Van” had left New York City and was speeding on the Taconic Parkway. Mada couldn’t sleep - unlike the other passengers oblivious to and seemingly unconcerned with the van’s speed on a wet thruway. Mada exhaled when the van arrived. She grumbled along with the other women who had to stand outside in the drizzling rain until called inside the trailer for “Visiting Processing”. After clearing processing she exhaled gratitude that no item of her outfit caused a problem. She and the other women knew to wear wireless bras and stud-less jeans. Next, she inhaled with gratitude upon entering the near-empty visiting room which meant she and Jomo would have a quiet time because it was a weekday. She exhaled as she sat at one of the small 2ft square tables near the window. As the rain continued, she looked forward to engaging with Jomo in one of their favorite visit activity: They’ll clasp hands across the unbalanced table and teleport themselves to a far away place, perhaps a Brazilian rain forest in honor of the rainy day. Mada would close her eyes but Jomo, with a prisoner’s ever-present wariness, always refused to close his.
Mada took deep breaths as she awaited Jomo’s entrance. Prisoners entered from a corridor through a door near the prison guards’ elevated desks. As usual, Mada stood as soon as she saw him and waited while he stopped by the guards station to check in. And as usual, his beautiful smile as he walked toward her erased any residual anxiety from the trip, the waiting, the processing, and the general oppressive prison vibe. Jomo walked into her open arms for a quick kiss and embrace — an aborted embrace because prison visiting rules included “NO EXTENDED EMBRACE!” Violating that rule would result in the visit being terminated. Thus, Mada and Jomo had perfected a superquick, almost perfunctory greeting that was not extended but definitely impactful.
Before sitting, Jomo said, “Well, it’s raining so we can’t go outside and sit in the yard but we can stand in the doorway.” They went to the doorway, feeling the watchful and reproachful eyes of the guards. Only their shoulders touched as they stood looking at the summer rain, talking softly about how extraordinary it will be when he’s released and they can see the rain, be in the rain, even make love in the rain! Sensing an approaching guard, Jomo guided her back to their table - both smiling at that brief forbidden pleasure of watching the rain together.
Their visit “agenda” included updates on their well-being and issues related to family. Prison phone calls are monitored, so they only discussed his legal problems during visits. Occasionally, it was possible to get a pencil and a small piece of paper from a friendly guard and they would take turns writing love haikus.
Hands were the only body parts allowed to touch. Mada and Joma had developed a complex love language defined by a specific touch and trace on each of the ten fingers — slowly and sensually examining each others’ palms, fingers, nails, and wrists .
Buying food from the vending machine provided another opportunity for “lovemaking.” They would describe and enjoy the foreplay: opening the food packages; the act: eating - mastication as masturbation- and the swallowing crescendo. A carceral climax!
The rain had stopped by 2:30 pm when a guard stood up and bellowed: “VISITING TIME IS OVER!” Mada and Jomo stood, embraced, and turned to go their separate ways - each full of the other.
On the ride back to Brooklyn, Mada napped and thought that a little rain would be nice, pattering against the van windows like post-coitus afterglow.
About the Author
Safiya Ellis Bandele is Director Emeritus of the Center for Women’s Development at Medgar Evers College of The City University of New York. Her 34-year tenure included developing and teaching gender-specific curricula and facilitating “Women’s Empowerment” workshops in community social service organizations, women's shelters, and prisons. Post-retirement, Safiya Bandele created and performs Ida B. Wells: Warrior for Justice, a multi-media presentation with narration, dance/movement, song, and images presenting the life of Wells as an educator, lynching abolitionist, journalist, and women’s rights advocate. Safiya also writes and presents creative works on mass incarceration and women’s trauma. She is honored and grateful to be Mother, Iya, Grandmother, Great-Grandmother, GodMother, Sister, Friend, and Life Partner of NY State prisoner ibn Kenyatta. Safiya Bandele wrote this beautiful reflection about a recent visit she made to a loved one.
