I stare at the clear blue sky, but the future is not that clear; blurred. This is the second straight year with no rain, and all the crops have dried in the fields. The usual Wednesday market day is no more, with the usual aura of the market bustling with eager farm produce sellers now confined to sheer memories. Why are the gods so angry with us? What have we done to deserve this? My only consolation is my one-acre farm densely populated with Eucalyptus trees; two more years to go before I sell them, as I was advised by my now rich neighbour. But the gods must have been angrier at me more than the other people. Years ago I had a natural spring in my piece of land which I inherited from my father, but it is now no more. Some city people who came here last month told me it was because of the Eucalyptus trees which I planted; I don’t fully believe so; I don’t know; I am totally confused! If I cut down the trees, where will I get money to feed my family and send my children to school?