Monday, February 6, 2012

There’s a fire on the Mountain! Baleka Baleka!

Just a few metres in front of our block. Just the beginning.
Technically it was not on the mountain or anywhere near it. I had just finished doing my digital media updates and was lying on my bed dealing with yet another stomach bug when I saw ash floating past my window. Incensed (hah) at the thought that it was my shitty hill-billy neighbours having yet another braai I went outside to swear at them in Afrikaans (jou mas se vuil braai …) , only to see clouds of smoke billowing towards me.
I took a photo sent it to the BF and ran up to my mom, who lives on the top floor. Smoke filled the passages and I felt like tank girl missioning to find my mom and resuscitate her. I love drama!
On arrival at mother I found her weeping at kitchen counter and worrying about bird and animal life being burnt to death. Assure her that animals have sixth sense and would have vacated before the reeds went up in flames. As I am saying to her “don’t worry mom, the firemen will put it out in a minute”, the flames shoot up and engulf the hedge mere metres from our block. Queue panic; mother starts packing valuables and wills up, I go out to balcony to take pictures to post on twitter.
It suddenly reminds me of those days the BF and I used to go fire hunting and make out under the flames. Don’t ask.

Fire engine rocks up, sirens and all, while I put my pink plimsolls’ on to assist in putting out the fire.
Fire Mense Truck 2

My neighbours have rigged hoses to their kitchen taps and are directing small jets of water at the massive flames. There seems to be enough hands on deck so I make my way up to the roof to take more pics for twitter and suddenly feel as if I have become news breaking journalist on Twitter.
Clearly I need more action in my life. Am joined by weird looking teenagers on rooftop with six-pack of beer, ash is flying everywhere, the wind changes direction causing the fire to spread towards Princess beach. Wind is schizophrenic and plants little fires that turn into waves of fire pushing towards the Kroenendal retirement village. Meanwhile my mother is bringing the firemen and women ice cold water and offering cigarettes all-round (clearly she does not see how wrong that is).
Moving towards Kroenendal Retirement Village

I am silently thankful that I forgot my laundry in the washing machine and didn’t hang it up this morning. Would have been all burnt and smelly also tres devastating.
Just as I am about to dye hair from blonde to brown the Cape Times rings me doorbell, asks if I can give them details. Fly into journo mode and give them the what, where, who, how and why. Take them up to the roof where the photographer takes some (most likely) very good but wholly unflattering pictures of me in red rok that I wear around the house (found it in the Mr Price pregnancy section – sadly it fits).
Now I am wishing for a really cheap bottle of vino and some ciggies however feeling rather knackered but grateful that our homes at Indy Bay didn’t burn down. Pretty sure some guinea fowls didn’t make it though. At least they won’t be waking me up so early anymore.
Much appreciation and thanks to the brave fire men and women who managed to put out the fire.
Off to shower now, just used toner and a cotton pad on my face and it’s scary how black it was. Also I’ll be brunette in about an hour; because brunettes have WAY more fun.
Cheers Dears xxx

1 comment:

  1. *starts singing* 'we didn't start the fire! It was always burning while the world was turning' Haha I love this post, it's refreshing to be able to have a lag about a fire, usually we can't coz it destroyed people's homes or an old man's prized shed or something...And lol at your mom offering ciggies!


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