Summer

Summer has arrived like a succubus. By nine this morning, the plants in the garden hung limp, the water sucked from them by gusts of hot air pretending to be wind. Aaah - Summer. Not for Mozambique the summer of lazy days and languid evenings. Here summer comes in the form of a stew, hot and clinging. It tries to smother you.
Attempts to escape are futile. The summer invades the Mozambican conciousness and the roads are packed. An outing to try to get some photos printed turns into a two-hour-long marathon on roads jammed to standstill. People do stupid things. A little Toyota Vitz slams on breaks in front of our Surf, risking a bullbar through the rear window. The driver drops off her passenger and has a farewell conversation in the street, oblivious to DB's sweating and hooting.
The Marginal crawls, cars dying at random spots, unable to cope with the heat. Incredibly, a bride in her bright white is out at the end of the pier, her dress whipped by the hot wind. I note that her attendents haven't summoned up the energy to join her, but some are knee deep in the sea.
We give up and go home and I turn on the sprinkler for my shrivelled garden.
The heat seems to have driven the insects mad. A cluster of dragonflies hangs around the windows and two large hornets, like fighter pilots dodging the enemy, cling to the underside of the leaves of a shady shrub.
The spinkler brings out the birds, the squabbling house sparrows, some bulbuls and an unusual scarlet chested sunbird which sits on nearby bush and ruffles his feathers before swooping back and forth through the spray.
Bizarrely, a confused largish brown bat flies above my head, over the BBQ and through the verandah. it has to make a second sweep before I realise that it is a bat and not a figment of my imagination.
The small child uses the hosepipe to fill up a plastic bath on the lawn. She adds random plants and plastic fish before tipping herself in. DB brings me a gin and tonic.
Summer wraps around me like a scarf. I add ice to my drink and encourage DB to pick up a beer. The fan fights its pathetic fight and I wonder when the rain will come.
Oh yes. Summer is here. I don't know whether to weep or drink. Drinking seems like the less energetic option.