Journals of a Hotel Manager

When I first arrived on this island I heard colleagues talking about the legendary Rain Stopper. They are priests for hire and their prayer will ensure that your outdoor functions will not be rained out. Called Pawang Hujan in the local language, the white-clad priests get paid well, at about US$100 a pop, plus food and drink.

All the islanders passionately believe in the Rain Stopper phenomenon.  I have seen banquet staff blatantly refused to set up backup arrangements indoors when they had heard that Rain Stoppers had been hired. And they were never disappointed. Important government events use Rain Stoppers as well.  Therefore if any of us want to have an outdoor event without rain during these months, forget weather.com or CNN, we hire a Rain Stopper.

Last night we had a video shoot in our lagoon. The head videographer had somehow heard the reputation of the Rain Stoppers. Being German, he told me two days ago, “Ve vant Rain Stopper. Ve vant two! Make sure there is no rain, ja?”

I asked Mastra, our delightful religion liaison and F&B manager, to arrange it. Since he had excelled in the Rat God affair, he happily obliged.

By 10pm when most guests retired to their rooms, the video shoot was well underway. Tiki torches were flickering in the night breeze. Underwater lamps lit the lagoon into a shimmering jewel. The girls in bikini looked stunning and the dudes looked buffed. A couple of managers, having nothing better to do after the NYE action, hung around in the pretense to assist but really were there to look at the girls.

That included me.

Tick. It was about 11pm when I felt the first rain drop. Then the drops came a little faster. Tick. Tick. Tick. It appeared as if a real tropical downpour was to begin.

The videographers sighed and began to pack up their equipment. I looked around and found Mastra. I shot bullets into him through my eyes and said to him with clenched teeth, “You go fix this, RIGHT NOW!”

He ran to the hotel temple. In the couple of minutes that took him to reach the temple, the rain stopped as if a tap had been turned off. All of us looked up at the sky and saw a piece of cloud floated off to sea.

The videographers shrugged and took out their expensive camera and resumed shooting.

A couple of minutes later Mastra came to stand next to me with a huge smile plastered on his face.

“So what was that about?” I asked.

“These priests, very naughty. I told them not to have a break together. They wouldn’t listen,” Mastra shook his head. “When I arrived, they were both having dinner. So I told one to continue eating, and the other one to continue praying. And now,” he looked up and smiled, “no more rain, Pak John.”

I don’t know why a prayer would move a piece of rain cloud away. But I do know I saw that piece of rain cloud float away the moment that hungry priest purportedly resumed his prayer.

photo courtesy omnia@flickr.com