“days one through fourteen”

Day one

“Where are you coming from?”

Los Angeles.

“Big fires there, yes?”

Yeah, about two weeks ago.

“It was all over the news here.”

The control agent stamps my passport and gives me a sly smile.

“No fires here now.”

I get my luggage and hug my girlfriend tightly, and she tells me that my shirt smells like smoke, even after twenty-two total hours in the air, plus a three-hour layover in Newark. We leave the airport and immediately spot a guy from the township starting a trash fire on the side of the highway.

Thank god this country doesn’t have chaparral.

Day four

“We saw all the footage on SABC! We thought the whole city was on fire!”

It felt like that at one point. Pacific Palisades and Altadena got hit hard, but all these little fires were popping up everywhere because of the high winds.

My girlfriend’s dad passes a plate of freshly braaied lamb ribs to Rita and her husband, Marlowe, whom he’s known for longer than I’ve been alive.

“Goodness! You must tell us, is your family okay?”

Yeah, we got lucky. Our house was just up against an evacuation line, but our zone was never marked for evacuation. It was crazy, though, it felt like everyone knew someone who had either been forced to evacuate, whose place had been damaged, or, even, like, burned completely.

Rita turns to Marlowe between sips of wine.

“Ek hoop ons brandversekering is goed.”

“Did you see the fires at all?”

No way. I wasn’t trying to get anywhere close to that shit.

Fuck, I totally just swore in front of her godparents. Maybe they’ll let it slide because I’m the

crazy American boyfriend talking about some genuinely wild shit.

Closest I saw to an actual fire was waking up on the first day to a pitch-black sky full of smoke at, like, six-thirty in the morning.

My girlfriend’s mom finishes her glass of Chenin Blanc and motions towards her husband to pour her another before pulling my head onto her shoulder.

“Ugh, but we’re glad to have you here, huh? You can stay safe here, we promise, no fires! No fires in Worcester tonight!”

Herma’s sunny disposition is infectious. Everyone laughs, and I flash a toothy smile to keep the

mood light. My girlfriend’s dad pulls another gargantuan rack of ribs out of the braai, slices and dices them, and slaps one on my plate.

“Yes, and you must regain your strength after all the, the heat, the exhaustion, yeah.”

Thank god for Afrikaans hospitality.

Day thirteen - midday

You from the Cape?

“No, from Zim.”

Harare?

A lot of Uber drivers in the city come from Harare, and they tend to brighten up when you mention it, especially on longer drives like this one. There’s more time to talk about home.

“I am from Mutare. Are you from Zim?”

I’m from Los Angeles.

“Oh. There was a big fire there.”

Yeah, there were a couple. That’s why I came here, man, I’m running away from that shit!

He laughs politely.

“Yes, I heard it became very dangerous.”

It did for a while, but it was cool to see people showing up for each other, you know? After the fires happened, everyone started helping each other out, volunteering, donating supplies, that kind of thing.

“It was popular to help?”

Yeah, super popular. There was something on TMZ about, like, Charlize Theron helping organize canned goods at a relief center.

He laughs again.

“One of us!”

I smile in agreement and roll the window down a bit as we get closer to the City Bowl.

Wait a second. No way. No fuckin’ way.

You smell burning wood up there?

“Yes, there is a fire happening, on the other side of Table Mountain, not in the city.”

Son of a bitch! I barely got here!

You know when it started?

“I think today, yes, today was the start. The news said it was a, a hiking trail, in Rondebosch.”

This part of the earth does everything it can to keep your fight-or-flight instincts active.

“The fire department, they are sending in helicopters.”

It’s some semblance of relief, especially when the long-term Airbnb in Vredehoek I’m about to check into is at the very top of Deerpark Drive, the last street before the mountain starts.

Day thirteen - evening

It really, really smells like smoke out here. I can’t even breathe right now, man.

I’m the only guy in the world who routinely calls his girlfriend “man.” It’s a term of endearment at this point.

“And we’re walking uphill. Our lungs are gonna collapse before we get back to Eggi.”

Aren’t you running on, like, four hours of sleep? Why would they set a six AM call time for a German telecom ad?

“I don’t know, but it was wild today, they rented a giant green screen and didn’t even use it.”

We turn the corner from Kloof Nek onto Nicol and get treated to a prime view of a blaze that’s crept from one side of the mountain to the other.

Fuck, that’s heading downhill towards our studio. You think we’re screwed?

“I really have no clue.”

You just wanna get home and knock out, huh?

“I need to, dude. Tomorrow’s the cleanup day and I have to be there at eight. ”

I decide to light up an old joint after she falls asleep.

Day fourteen - about one-thirty in the morning

It smells pretty bad right now. Breathing’s not fun, either.

I finish watching Inherent Vice, put my phone down, and go to check on how the mountain’s doing. The first thing I see when I open my window is a smoldering silver leaf tree about one hundred yards from the electric fence that separates the property from the hiking trails leadingup to the mountain.

FUCK FUCK FUCK

I put my hand on her shoulder and lightly squeeze it a few times.

Dude, I’m really sorry, but we gotta bug out.

She stirs awake and looks at me through squinted eyes.

“Wha’s it?”

The fire made it pretty close. I think we gotta go. Like, now.

“You sure?”

I go to take another look out the window, and all I see are plumes of smoke illuminated by an

orange glow. No way.

We can’t take any chances, man, seriously. It’s go time.

She sighs a little bit.

“Okay, let’s pack our stuff.”

We grab our still-unopened suitcases, shove them into Eggi’s cramped trunk, and shoot down the property’s driveway. The orange glow of the fires illuminates our rearview mirrors.

“That’s fire’s really blazing up there.”

Yeah. I guess they were playing my mixtape.

“Well, welcome back to the city.”

We drive all the way down into the city center. The normally chaotic two-lane streets that snake through highrises and future boutique hotels are dead empty.

Should I start calling for, like, places to stay?

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The Lodge is all booked out. Cloud Nine won’t even pick up their phone, and they’re too close to the mountain anyway. Same thing for the Holiday Inn Express and the Hilton. I finally get a line on the Cape Diamond Hotel.

“Hello, Cape Diamond Hotel, this is Rico speaking.”

Hey. Do you guys have any rooms available?

“Let me see, sir...so, we do have one room available. It’s our honeymoon suite, and for one night with parking and breakfast you’re looking at...five thousand Rand, plus fees.”

Okay, give me a sec.

You think it’s worth?

“I just want to sleep. I really don’t care where right now.”

At least it doesn’t smell too smoky down here. I bet they even have an air filter.

“Probably, yeah.”

Not feeling it?

“Eh...it’s your call.”

Five thousand Rand, that’s like two-seventy, two-eighty American. That’s more than a week in our studio.

Uh, hey, Rico, I think we’re okay on the room. Thanks, though.

“You’re welcome, sir, if you have any furth-”

My phone cuts out. There’s no service in between all these brutalist office buildings.

“Where should we head now?”

Maybe park outside of Toni’s? There’s a lot of streetlights, so it should be relatively safe.

The last thing my girlfriend probably wants to do right now is sleep with the lights on.

We head up to where Tamboerskloof meets Gardens and park across the street from a cozy little Mozambican restaurant. She reclines her seat all the way back and rolls up her sweater touse as a pillow.

Hey, we just got a message from the Airbnb host.

“Wha’s she say now?”

Apparently, the fire department’s up on the other side of the street. They’re taking care of the fire.

“So... we can go back or what?”

She says if they really want us to evacuate, they’ll tell us.

“Oh.”

We could have stayed in bed. We really could have stayed in bed.

Do you wanna head back?

“I guess, if you wanna.”

Alright, that’s the plan.

We slump back up the hill towards Vredehoek and drive directly into the scorched trees and flashing red and white lights at the bottom of Table Mountain.

Day fourteen - about nine-thirty in the morning

The house never got touched, but the mountain's northern face is considerably grayer than usual.

I wake up late and check my phone. My girlfriend’s already gone to work. She’s supposed to get off work at twelve-thirty today, which is nice. I hang out in the studio until she gets back, and we go to Toni’s for lunch.

“By the way, today’s Alberto’s birthday, and he wants to get drinks later.”

I check my shirt, and I still smell like smoke. Alberto lives in Vredehoek too, so I don’t think he’ll mind.

Sounds good to me. Did anyone talk about the fire at work?

“Not really. The crew was mostly Germans, and they’re staying at the fancy hotel on Orange, so they probably didn’t even know what was happening.”

That sort of thing happens pretty regularly around here. As long as you can afford it.