Field mouse

The mountain behind the town and my house burned today. At dusk I walked up as far as I could. I got to the cellphone antenna before I felt it was too dark to continue. Tree trunks were still smouldering and smoking. It felt like I was in alien territory, surrounded by a matrix of seeming senseless coal red guides and batons. The only life I could discern was that of scurrying field mice and just once I heard the distinctive call of a nightjar. I felt as ancient, yet as satisfied, as the mountain.

Imemeza. That’s the name of the mountain that cradles both Waterval Boven and Emgwenya Township, and can already be seen from the Machado Toll Plaza, if you know what to look for. Imemeza is the siSwati word meaning "place of shouting", which seems an apt name. Petit and shy Sis Magagula, who’s lived in Emgwenya and beneath the mountain all her life, told me softly in siSwati that the old folk say the name refers to the awe-inspiring thunder that ricochets off the mountain during the awesome summer storms: “It causes everyone beneath the mountain to tremble in their beds, wondering if this day is their last.”

The crummy camera attached to my phone does no justice to the magnificent mountain. It's actually inspiring. Well, it will be again in the spring.