Jo'Burg Days: Swallows Before A Storm
Swallows hurl themselves before the onrushing wind as a storm advances towards Johannesburg. Like distant drums, the thunder marches from the south, and householders unplug computers, fax machines and printers in case of a lightning strike…
Barbara Durlacher describes turbulent storm which presaged the arrival of South Africa’s summer.
For more of Barbara’s vivid words please visit Jo’Burg Days in the menu on this page.
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Like powerful athletes, they hurl themselves before the onrushing storm, hurtling down the turbulent halls of air, flying dementedly, enjoying every moment of the encroaching change. The barometer plummets, there’s a smell of dust on the gusting wind. Thunder bursts with lightning following seconds later. The birds either take heed and depart for their roosts, or – like the swallows before the storm, exult in the sudden darkness, the onrushing winds and the changing currents of air.
I see airliners hastening northwards, fifteen thousand feet up, hurrying away. ‘Fasten seat belt’ signs are on and the toilets are empty. Nobody’s foolish enough to dare a surreptitious puff in the teeth of the oncoming storm. The pilots are all too anxious to get off the ground from this oncoming blaster, they know that they’ll be safer two, three hundred miles further north, where the air is more stable and passengers can unbuckle and relax. In these less rambunctious climes, as they turn to talk to their seat companions, accepting the hostess’s proffered drink, while they fold down their seat trays and get ready for the meal and the movie, things move more slowly and the over-heated swollen air masses are not as deadly.
Back in Johannesburg, the storm moves in. Like distant drums, the thunder marches from the south, and householders unplug computers, fax machines and printers in case of a lightning strike. The big match is over, win or lose; supper’s on the boil, and it’s nanny’s night off. Mom’s settling in for the long haul, looking after baby. She has her book and knitting ready, while Dad’s six-pack is in the fridge – ‘Hope the electricity doesn’t fail, there’s a good movie on telly; we’ve been waiting weeks to see it!’
The jacaranda’s purple blooms look solid against the threatening sky, a wonderfully dramatic scene imprinted on the mind’s eye. A shame these beautiful trees are now ‘undesirable aliens’ and residents are forbidden to propagate them. Surely there’s no harm in encouraging beauty? When you’ve seen abundant hedges of bougainvillea in vibrant maroon, purple and orange sending branches skywards through a mature mauve jacaranda you can only gasp at the strident, shocking beauty. Most countries accept the alien plants and animals introduced over the centuries. South Africa is full of Australian Black Wattle, Hakea, Gum Trees, Cosmos, Khakibos and other invaders. Introduced by early settlers as farming aids or for the mines, they served a useful purpose at the time; it’s said cosmos and khakibos arrived in fodder from Argentina for the British Army’s horses during the Boer War. Admittedly, these undesirable aliens have caused great damage to our watercourses and perennial streams, which are drying up and eroding. But, the “Working for Water” programme is gradually eliminating some of these worst areas of infestation.
‘Working for Water’ employs and trains formerly indigent people and puts them to work clearing watercourses, mountainsides and farmlands of aliens, and in many cases succeeds in restoring the streams to their former natural flow. Harvested wood is used to create fencing, garden furniture and screens – useful in farm and garden. In some areas erosion is being controlled, and planted monoculture forests are being restored to their former beauty with native trees interspersed between the cultivated blocks. In cities and farms older homes and gardens still glory in their magnificent jacarandas, bougainvillea, poinsettia, and Lombardy poplars, all aliens, but all beautiful and useful in the right places.
I’ve wandered far from the onrushing storm and the exultant swallows, and the cloud masses move on, driven by the strong wind. A patch of blue shows amongst the threatening masses, and over in the east stately galleons of cumulus catch the rays of the setting sun and glow rose and gold, opal and pearl before they lose the light. On the horizon, the rain shadows are obscured by nightfall. The city springs to life with neon flashing on wet streets. The glow fades in the west and streets fill with traffic. Storm’s over, the first spring rains have arrived.
Summer’s here!
