Tjijetuombaze pressed the knob of the window, and waved his palm through the buffeting wind. Then he changed into gear seven, while his greenish-yellow eyes scanned a carpet of grass next to the road. 

Somehow, he flashed the oncoming trucks shaking his car as they snail passed by. Soon, he pressed his golden eyes at the purple flowers swaying in the wind on the left side. 

Instantly, the thin road bends like a snake and swallowed the orange flowers on the right. By now, the NP300 workhorse dismembered a lime-green snake. The snake pet owner made a U-turn; parked next to the writhing snake, and took a selfie. Afterwards, he posted the backdrop of orange flowers combing the hairy grass on his Facebook account. 

This time, he mimed the pre-colonial names scribbled on the tear-dripping road signs such as Otjitaazu and Omatjene. The historian squeezed a tear for the wartime names as they journeyed in the rear mirror. Then, he negotiated the hairpin bend, while the yellow flowers kissed the car’s tinted windows. 

Suddenly, a whiteface cow next to the road schooled Tjijetuombaze on a free spa by massaging its neck against a grey anthill. 

Soon, he spotted a black acacia tree squatting on a termite hill. The blackthorn tree copycatted a runny stool man sitting on a toilet pot and tickled him. Afterwards, the driver hooted a monkey relaxing on a reddish anthill. 

This time, the monkey hitchhiked by waving its thumb. At a farm gate, two khaki-shirt men whined about the wildflowers loafing on their fences. In fact, Tjijetuombaze skewed his eyes towards the brownish-yellow plants that look like soiled nappies. 

Immediately, his mind raced to the maintenance fee that he defaulted. 

Now, he rubbed the guilt from his face as the windblown flowers whipped his car. Finally, he flashed a camera at a yellow acacia tree stabbing its knife-sharp branches through the heart of a termite hill. Then he recalled a timeless riddle of a quarrel between this mountain-high termite hill and the acacia tree about who came first at this spot. 

Later, he zoomed the camera and filmed the crickets crushed by the trucks’ tyres. The chirping insects nibbled the dead ones, and triggered his craving for padkos. In fact, the yellow offal from the disfigured insects looked like scrambled eggs inside a bowl-shaped pothole. 

Strangely,  the sun-grilled crickets salivated his appetite for the orange egg yolks at a local eatery.