12 Nov 2011
Today, in my loony little republic by the river, has been declared national Beat the Heat Day. In my tireless quest for the elusive Cold Shower, the pipe running down the hill from the storage tank must be covered with soil and stones wherever the sun can get a peek of it. The tank itself gets shaded with branches.
But it is in the kitchen, with its four mesh covered wall openings and bare tin roof without a cat, where the battle rages at its fiercest.
The gas fridge that I coaxed into function with so much effort has failed to provide anything near frozen. At best the little freezing compartment acts like a fridge and the rest of the machine like a cupboard at ‘normal’ room temperature.
The freezer that W brought and that had so warmed my heart, has also proved to be an under-achiever of note. After five days only a small patch of bewildered ice clings to one of the inside walls, leaving my meat soft and tender and getting juicier by the hour.
I feel the exterior metal with my palm. Both appliances are feverish to the touch.
I lay out my tailor’s tools on the table and start measuring. The cardboard box that the satellite dish was shipped in, is my cloth. Duct tape (whose inventor really should be inducted into the Hall of Fame) serves as stitching.
Voila: The cardboard thermal overcoat!
What well dressed fridges are wearing this summer in Makandazul
UNDER THE FEVER TREES 