The shaman/ medicine woman/ sangoma holds her hands to the sky. The necklace rises and falls on her chest as she chants/ calls/ sings/ talks to those in charge of it all. And then the rain comes. It falls hard and soaks the ground to its cracked and cratered core and right then the millet grows. It’s nothing special or a happening. This is her job. It is just the way things are the way they have been. We’ve just been too busy to notice: miracles are our everyday.

Leather tie. Adjustable length.