Loki
The convoy of three minibus taxis trundles down the road, their brows low to the brown cloud of kicked-up mud and clay. They drive along a ridge line, the endless rolling green creases of the Valley of a Thousand Hills sloping down around them. In the distance, the shining surface of the Inanda Dam peeks from between the nooks of the steep hillsides. The day is dry, and hot enough to paste the grey summer haze low to the hillsides.