6:30am. The bus stop in Swellendam. It’s far too early after a broken night’s travel-sleep but it’s light and the day is fresh. Two little brown birds greet us, hop-hopping along the edge of the N2. Passengers get off and walk around. I stay in my warm, comfortable seat and enjoy the morning world through my window. The clouds are lying low and solid-grey today. It seems I’ve left the early summer in the Eastern Cape. Below the grey ceiling, the fields are lush and green between tall trees. Here, there is no brittle-dry grass and dusty soil thirsty for the first summer rains. In many ways it’s like a different country, a different world. The veld back home is parched. There has been too little rain for too many seasons. Farm dams are dry patches of cracked soil where cattle and sheep stand balefully, hoping for a drop of water or some fresh greens one day soon. As we drive on, I wonder if it has rained since I left.