The Legend of Thunder and Lightning

Rain is on the way. A streak of light flashes across the sky, quick as a blink, and is gone. A slow count of one, two, three goes by. Only then does the thunder come rumbling after it, rolling long across the clouds, as if someone were dragging a huge boulder.

The lightning always comes first. The thunder always runs along behind. The Khmer of southern Vietnam have a fine old story that explains why. They tell it to their children and grandchildren each time the rainy season comes back.

The story goes that long, long ago, an old hermit lived up in the sky. His hair and beard were white as silver, and he lived quietly in a garden of clouds. He had a few students who came to learn his magic. Two of them are the ones everyone remembers.

The first was Moni Mêkhala, a beautiful, gentle fairy who was also very clever. The second was Ream Eyso, a giant. He was huge and terribly strong. His hands were like two big fans, and each step he took made the clouds shake and shudder. But the giant had a hot temper. Whatever the task, he liked to use his strength and rarely stopped to think.

One day, the old teacher called his students together. He had a precious gift to give, but only to one of them. So he set them a test. He handed each of them a bowl and said that early the next morning, whoever filled the bowl with dew from the grass and brought it back first would win.

Ream Eyso roared with laughter when he heard this. A job as small as a drop of dew, the giant thought to himself. With strength like his, there was nothing to worry about.

Mêkhala, though, sat and thought. Dew comes in tiny drops, as thin as a breath. Filling a whole bowl with it seemed impossible. After a while, she smiled. She took a soft piece of cloth and spread it out on the grass for the whole night. The dew settled on it and soaked in, more and more, until the cloth was wet through.

As soon as the sky began to lighten, Mêkhala went out to the garden. She picked up the cloth and wrung it out with great care. The dew ran out of the cloth, drip, drip, drip, and soon the bowl was full to the brim. Holding the bowl of dew in her arms, she flew lightly to her teacher.

Ream Eyso only set out that morning, running all over the forest with his bowl. With two enormous fingers, he tried to pick the dewdrops off the leaves one by one and drop them into the bowl. Some drops he caught and some he lost, and the whole morning went by before the bowl was full. When at last he came rushing back with it, Mêkhala had been standing there for a long time.

The teacher nodded and praised Mêkhala for her wisdom. He gave her the most precious gift of all, a perfectly round wishing jewel. It was a very strange jewel. Whenever she tossed it into the air, it flashed out a beam of light that lit up a whole stretch of sky. And she could ride along that light and fly off as fast as the wind.

Ream Eyso had come too late, so he did not get the jewel. But the old teacher cared for all his students, so he gave the giant a gift as well. It was a magic hammer. The teacher told him again and again: "Remember this well, my child. Every time you swing the hammer to strike, you must close both your eyes." Ream Eyso mumbled yes and nodded. Then he went off with the hammer on his shoulder, still sorely missing the bright jewel that the fairy had won.

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted that jewel. So one day, Ream Eyso picked up his hammer and chased after Mêkhala, determined to get the jewel no matter what. The small fairy saw the giant charging toward her, but she was not afraid at all. She only smiled to herself and tossed the jewel high into the air.

The jewel gave a great flash that lit up the whole sky. That light is the lightning we still see every rainy season. The flash dazzled Ream Eyso. He had to raise a hand to shield his eyes, and he could no longer see her anywhere. In that moment, Mêkhala had already darted lightly away past another cloud.

Furious, Ream Eyso swung the magic hammer after her. But the teacher had warned him long before. Whenever he struck, he had to squeeze both eyes shut. So every time he swung the hammer, he shut his eyes, hit only empty air, and never once touched the fairy. The magic hammer crashed down on the clouds with a great boom, then rolled on and on in a long rumble. That is the sound of thunder.

So it goes on, the two of them chasing each other all across the sky. The jewel flashes first, as lightning. The hammer strikes after it, as thunder. The giant chases on and on, but Mêkhala keeps flying farther away, the hem of her dress flapping, light as a bird's wing. The chase through the clouds shakes the whole sky. And the cool raindrops keep falling, watering the fields down on the earth and making them green and lush.

The Khmer of southern Vietnam hold this story very dear. In Cambodia, at Khmer New Year, while the land is still dry and waiting for rain, performers often present a beautiful dance. It is called the Mêkhala dance, and it is danced to pray for good rains and for the rice in the fields to flower. A young woman becomes the fairy holding the jewel. Another dancer becomes the giant Ream Eyso holding the hammer. They whirl and chase each other to the music, just like the story in the sky.

So now, whenever the sky turns toward rain, people look up. A quick flash of lightning means that Mêkhala has just tossed her wishing jewel into the sky. Then the thunder rumbles along behind. That is Ream Eyso, closing his eyes and swinging his hammer once more, never able to catch her. And after the lightning, after the thunder, come the raindrops, pattering on the roof and cooling a whole courtyard.