Four Seasons Before Lunch Gauteng (Pretoria)

 I have lived in Pretoria for half my life, but even at almost 50, l still am not ready for mornings like this.

I step out of  home in the morning at 7 a.m., greeted by a warm, gentle breeze and sunshine so golden it felt like summer had arrived overnight. The sky was clear; the jacaranda trees glowed purple; the air smelled of warmth and possibility.

“Perfect day,” l muttered, locking his door.

By the time l drive out—five minutes later—the sky starts to be darkened. A cold wind came crawling in from nowhere, sweeping dust across the pavement. The temperature dropped so suddenly that  l have  to switch the heater for warmth.

Laughing. “Ah, Pretoria… you never disappoint.”

Halfway to the office, the heavens opened. Not soft rain—a storm. Sheets of water hammered the road, street gutters overflowed instantly, and distant thunder rolled like a grumpy giant waking up too early. People scattered, hiding under bus shelters already too full. 

“Ten minutes ago it was hot!” someone shouted.

“No, it’s Gauteng. This is normal,” another replied, shrugging.

Then, as abruptly as it started, the storm stopped. The clouds broke apart like someone had ripped them open, and a brilliant rainbow arched across the city. Birds returned as though they’d been waiting backstage for their cue. Steam rose from the tar roads as the sun returned with full force.

I stepped out, still soaked but now baking under the heat. When l reached the office, l had already drove in the  rainwater.

At lunch, l sat under a tree, finally elaxing outside for a bit of sunshine. People lounged around, enjoying what felt like the second summer of the day. Someone joked about needing a jacket, umbrella, shorts, and sunscreen all at once.

l sighed. The horizon was turning grey again.

“Third season today,”.

Later, as l drove home, tiny hailstones—hailstones!—fell like impatient little fists from the sky. They bounced off cars, roofs, and pavements, while the sun continued to shine brightly, as if refusing to acknowledge the chaos happening right below it.

When l finally reached home, l stood at the door, drenched for the second time.

“Only in Pretoria,”. “Four seasons before lunch… and the day’s not even over.”