I promise I’ll get back to the report after this. I just can’t resist.

The amaZulu call this month uNhlangulana – the little-scatterer. Another name might be the-little-shiverer-one-sneaking-in-under-doorways (to be warded off, e.g. ukuhlangula induku means ‘to ward off a blow in a stick fight’). The name of the month and of the wind that characterises it is the same.

I sat down to write this morning and was rudely reminded of the name, when Nhlangulana opened the door behind me, complete with a scattering of leaves and seeds and pieces of string, causing me to track down another jersey.

I beg you, wind – leave me alone for a little while I edit and write. I respect you, and know your name. I love watching you from inside a car. You make wonderful little izikhwishikazana  out of the swirling dust of harrowed fields, that people fondly call uthulilwezichwe (dust-raised-by-a-pygmy-army). I know you. I know not what to offer you, but I would offer anything if you do as I plead. Please, pretty please, leave me alone.