Something Over Tea

Load-shedding still has at least another hour to go before the power comes on. It is already too dark to read indoors, yet light enough and warm enough to sit outdoors with a glass of wine, a bowl of nuts and my notebook.

The whole town is without power. In the stillness of the early evening I can hear the sound of generators wafting up from the bowl of the valley: the schools and the shopping centre have powerful generators that kick in as soon as the electricity goes off. Our suburb is quietly getting darker.

Only the Hadeda Ibises rent the serenity of the evening as they raucously bid each other farewell on as they make their way to their favourite roosting spots. Eight of them fly over our garden; another six circle the fig tree before settling on the thick branches, where they are swallowed up by the…

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