It was unusual for northern Natal (before it became KZN), and for Ladysmith in particular. That February day started out like an ordinary blisteringly hot summer’s day, not unusual for the place and time of year. But instead of the dry heat that radiated off the ground and burnt everything in its glare, today was humid; a damp, moist day.I remember my mother coming in from the garden that Saturday morning with sweat rings under the arms of her turquoise cotton dress, its front smocked into elasticity. She made a sound of disgust as she dusted off her hands then raised her arms to take in the damp patches staining the dress. Mum hated the fierce sizzle of summer, wilting weather she called it. But this wet heat was loathsome. She walked around with a slick sheen on her skin, blowing on her upper lip as though that would cool her down. Today, she’d been picking roses in her garden, roses remarkably unfrazzled by the searing heat that was summer that year. There were two things that se...

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