I was sitting at the Radisson Blu in Port Elizabeth, in the dining room, waiting. It was one of those rare, languid PE days: hot, but cooled by a light breeze coming off the ocean – a gentle puff of air that brushed against the skin, a fleeting kiss. I say rare because at this time of the year, the beginning of summer, it was unusual not to be holding onto the hem of one’s skirt to protect modesty in gusty PE.The three previous days had been wind hell as flurries of fast moving air – wraiths – shrieked and howled and sighed and toppled, or tried to topple, everything in their paths. The soughing unravels the mind, becomes a widows keening – a sound of mourning and grief that goes on and on assaulting the senses, and, ultimately, the soul, until you beg the Gods for relief. And so, sitting in the Radisson Blu dining room with its view of the Indian Ocean on this rare and perfect day, waiting for Professor Derrick Swartz, vice chancellor at the Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University, ...

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