IF THERE'S A WIND IT'S BOUND TO GET UP SOMEONE'S NOSE
Tessa Dowling

The Sunday Independent
September 17 2006

Eish, kwaMzoli you get a lot of weather. Well, what I mean is that you get people who are shushu (hot, figuratively: drunk) and there is also quite a bit of umoya (wind) after eating Mzoli's excellent umngqusho (samp and beans).

But one rainy Cape Town day, weather words themselves were the topic of conversation. It was a day so cold that even the stylish Lehlohonolo wore his traditional Sotho blanket. He warmly scooped the cuddly Noksi into it and bought us all a round of brandy.

"We Sothos have a brilliant expression to describe this terrible cold," he said, adjusting the blanket so he could pour himself another nip. "We say, morwa o phintse." (The San person has farted.) That caused debate about the average temperature of farts for different ethnic groups. Bhut' Z said he thought that the Zulus probably had hot and humid farts, and Sis' Thilivhali ("one who does not forget" in Venda) vowed that the Vendas didn't fart at all, thanks to an excellent diet. "Did you ever hear of Cyril Ramaphosa farting?" her eyes swept around the room and finally fixed themselves on her cellphone, which was buzzing on the table. "Hey, the Venda's phone is farting!" shouted Bra February to much laughter.

Keen to get the group off semantics and on to more palatable discussions (like the Pick Six), he added "Ney, julle mense - you will mos never find out which politician lets out the most hot air - julle poep teen donderweer!" (You are farting against thunder! Figuratively: You are attempting the impossible!)

Selectively overhearing the conversation as one primarily about weather, Mamthembu, Sis' Thoko's 70-year-old mum (a famous Guguletu beauty queen in her day), stretched her still elegant legs closer to the heater and said, "We Xhosas have an excellent expression for very cold weather: ingqele iqhaqhazelisa amazinyo!" (The cold makes the teeth chatter!) Her be-ringed hand then skilfully took out her own pair of grinning false teeth, which she snapped together like a pair of castanets.

Young, pretty, but perpetually grumpy, Khethiwe was not impressed by the general mood of hilarity. "I am telling you, this bloody weather is not going to let up! Jonga isibhakabhaka! (Look at the sky!) Limathumb' entaka!" (It is the entrails of birds! Literally: It is overcast!) She clapped her hands together aggressively and adjusted the belt on her tight jeans as if she was going to give someone a klap.

Mr Khumalo (whose nickname is "Crime", because crime never pays) saw an opening to show off his knowledge of Zulu and to avoid paying his bill. (His English wasn't excellent, but his Zulu was impressive.) "Uyabona (you see), Sis' Khethiwe, your expression - the one on your face - it is reminding me too much of an excellent Zulu saying about overcast and threatening weather: libafazi bedube inyama." (It is women wanting meat.)

"Heyi, you Zulu men!" Mamthembu shouted this out while reinstating her teeth so it came out a bit like "Ssshzoowen". "You are so sexist and, by the way, insensitive to vegetarians! Unless you want me to get the Women's League on to you, I demand that you buy all the ladies in the group a drink."

Mamthembu frog-marched the protesting Mr Khumalo to the bar just as a light rain began to fall.

Still proud of the fact that he had a saying for every weather condition, her victim snivelled and offered, "Lehlisa amathe ezimpukane." (It is dropping the saliva of flies. Figuratively: It is raining lightly.)

Doc Liwa, who was barman for the night, was filling in an isibilivane (from "I see, I believe," hence "doctor's note") for Dikeledi, who needed to produce evidence of why she had not been at work for the past week.

Actually, she had been doing "Attic research" with her new Greek boyfriend on the tiny island of Skopelos, where, she said, it was so hot "ilanga likhupha intlanzi emanzini". (The sun takes the fish out of the water.) Patrick, the environmentalist, took her literally. "I doubt there are any fish left in those waters, sisi."

"Drinks for all the ladies here," announced Mamthembu. "UKhumalo uyabhatala." (Khumalo is paying.) She gave him a triumphant, gummy stare.

"Mr Khumalo ..." Doc Liwa looked very happy indeed. "Eish, ubuzifihle phi?" (Where have you been hiding yourself?)

He produced a piece of paper so long it could have contained all the name changes for the new South Africa. "While you're here, you can settle your other outstanding amatyala (debts)."

"Shame," whispered Noksi, eyeing out Mr Khumalo's predicament from under the cosiness of the Sotho blanket. "As the amaNgesi (English) say, it never rains but it pours."