It’s half past three and the air is thick
like every summer in this city.
Restlessness starts to stir somewhere deep and quiet,
a mechanical churning heard off in the distance,
Suburban dogs howling feral noises.
The sun gets down on hands and knees,
peers at how unremarkably the year is spent.
The whole city lays on its side waiting.
The clouds have a bad feeling and don’t show at all.
The sky is blue, empty, desolate.
It’s nearly December in Windhoek
the wind is hot with whispers of it.
The grass is yellowed barley and wheat,
whatever good water is left is used in the mills for drink.
The city’s hollow humming is within us all
becomes a tune, we are all singing and
swaying too in this humid room of a capital city.
Kina Indongo was born and raised in Windhoek. She currently works as a freelance writer whose monthly section in the RDJ Briefing Online magazine focuses on the extraordinary achievements of women and youth in Africa.