The PERCUSSIONIST creates the sound of a single raindrop striking the bottom of a tin bucket. At first the drops are tentative, but they gradually increase until there is a downpour. NOMVULA wakes and rises excitedly, extending her hands, then her tongue. She rejoices in the coolness of the water on her parched skin.

Music underscores the sequence.

NARRATOR: The drought was breaking. Delighted by the sound, the girl began to hang the remaining buckets from the branches of the great baobab.

The NARRATOR hangs miniature tin buckets on the baobab tree. Light casts an amplified shadow version on the gauze behind. The sound of rain hitting the bottoms of multiple tin buckets fills the space.

NARRATOR: The tree began to drum its own tin bucket tune.

She takes a bucket filled with water and washes her face clean. The white clay washes away and for the first time we see her. She rises, dancing, stamping her feet into freshly formed puddles, raising her hands skyward.

NARRATOR: That night, after collecting every bucket she could find, she sneaked into the town, hanging her buckets above doorways … along fences … from lampposts … telephone poles … trees.

NOMVULA rolls up her grass mat then rushes around the stage collecting the buckets and placing them at intervals around the playing space.

NARRATOR: By the time she had finished, the whole of Tin Town was covered with them. After preparing herself with Mkhulu's drum sticks, a tin bucket drum strung around her neck, she took her place on a nearby hill.

NARRATOR disappears behind the screen and is now seen as a dancing shadow, growing as she marches toward the light source.

The PERCUSSIONIST's djembe drumming builds triumphantly into her speech.

NARRATOR: The rain clouds, gathering behind her as if an army preparing its defences.

The NARRATOR moves to the front of the stage. As the lights rise she is lying on the table as if tucked up in bed.