The lights of the stars danced, celebrating that there was no longer time and there were no limits
It was during the days of dappled light; where the trees provided too much shade and everyone longed for the heat that they would predictably be complaining about within the month. A true African sun; desired in absence until burnt by its very arrival in the strong, stretching skies.
We trooped around in our denim shorts; the weather still allowing us to combine bare legs with closed-in, well-worn ankle boots that gave me the false impression of being taller than five feet. Everything was blue: from the skies, to the pools, right down to the darkened shade of the night. Summer was so close, and, like an unavoidable virus, the spirit that only accompanies our native summers inhabited us all.
As if the proudly South African need for summer sun sped up time, the countdown to December took on a new unit of speed. Events blurred until the classrooms became one with the cool, concrete floors that we consistently stormed upon as we ran up and down; the walls still held strong as our academic personas gave way to the summer screams, only intensified by the accumulating heat. Clocks ticked, exams passed, and results could be seen scrawled up the sides of the arms of every overachiever; as common as the calculated mark improvements and speeches being practiced by those who did not fare as well.
And then it was over. The final bell tripled its length, and, with the heat at its fullest yet, we escaped with our belongings; contemplating the wonder of the nights that awaited us; nights that would be filled with anything from star-gazing to street parties-but never sleep.
I was lost in thought as I wandered aimlessly up and down the slope on which I lived. Everything was hazy; even on days where the azure sky was strong and the hills of Hilton were sharply in focus. The summer flitted through the motions of waking me before noon; only so it could hit me with humidity high enough to leave me lazy and drained; stretched out like a cat on the living room floor with the curtains closed and my bikini on.
Night times were claustrophobic in the most joyous sense: the air was ever thick with the seasoned smell of braai smoke- either our own or our neighbors. The lights of the stars danced, celebrating that there was no longer time and there were no limits. You see, the heat had drained the life out of everything logical and chronological. It enhanced our unity, encouraging our differences to melt away like the ice in my drink on the ledge of the pool. It was that promise of eternal paradise that was really a countdown clock for another round of change.
The music resounded through the small valleys; through the open, crowded, sweating streets; through the parking lots; everywhere. It mingled genres before bounding back to its place of origin; creating mixes of crazy emotion, angry drivers, young recklessness, traffic light buddies, and backseat dancers. Everything moved quickly — the heat drove no one to stop; the heat banned the sullen in silence. The air was always alive; the summer heat blazing down the roads of my small connected town.
While Pietermaritzburg was on fire and increasing humidity along with high temperatures, Durban’s sea was singing and screaming and clawing my friends and I into its already overcrowded wake. Young people, old people, crazy, heat-driven, summer blind people; we were all together and alone in desperation to keep moving. It was almost in manic fear of being burnt alive by the summer sun should we stand still for too long. A theory with merit, when you stare down at the car dashboard temperature meter and notice it has not dropped below 40°C.
The nights increased as the days had to become more calculated; the pool was a necessity, and the shade should under no circumstances be under-appreciated. But the duration of months saw people began to tire: to lose the summer frenzy, and the moods deflated and wilted in imitation of the grasses and plants. The browning landscape screamed loudly for the occasional, melodramatic storms that arose as the sun slowly faded into the night. They were common and more electrical than nourishing in the end.
As fast as time had sped up, had blurred into one day, and had erased the order of everyday life — it slowed. Like a moody, teenage phase the sky dulled, and people became so commonly uninterested. The volume control to the blaring music and extremities of the youth was finally found and adjusted to suit the exhausted older generations. The elderly could only sustain their summer survival for so long; everything has to end.
As we felt the spirit being slowly drained from our heat-beaten, summer-seared bodies-one aspect at a time — I lay defeated; finally feeling the effect of the super-speed summer brain-drain, the mounting hours of missed sleep, and the need to spend endless days in an undisturbed, zombie-like state.
It was finally the time to relax- a decision made only hours before I found myself startled and confused; awoken by my estranged alarm bell at 6 a.m.
Sun still playing peek-a-boo through double-lined curtains, it seems time won the war just in time for the first day of school.
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