Her name is Amina. The keeper of the tribe's goats, she knows all the paths and all the trails on the great plateau of white stones that stretches all the way to the horizon. She walks and hops on the broken pebbles, which are sharp in this expanse where there are neither trees nor grass. She knows how to lead her flock toward the basins that hold water, where greenness remains. But this year, the rain hasn't come. For long months they have been waiting for it, hoping for it, praying to God to send it, and scanning the sky. Will these big black clouds come and bring smiles back to the adults'