Most mornings, the first friendly face I see as I walk out the door belongs to this fat lizard.
His favorite sun bathing area is on the back door step where he waits to ambush flies and ants for his breakfast.
Of course, this photo does not do him any justice as he's rather a rotund fellow and not afraid of me at all. In fact, I have often stepped over him on my way out for my early morning walk around the
OLAM factory complex here in Morrumbala.
I then take a turn to the right and wave to the children staring at me through the security fencing. They wait for me every morning and run along the path that hugs the border of the cotton gin. If I pick up speed, they do, if I slow down to take a photo, they shout instructions in their local language - Senna.
Approaching an old truck without wheels that is precariously balanced on blocks I say "Ola" to the watchman who has taken up residence in the cab.
Yes, he lives there. His kitchen is a charcoal burner which is placed on a make-shift mud guard outside the driver's door.
he also has a few veggies growing close by.
It interests me to see someone living that way and I wonder if he sleeps when he is meant to be doing his guard duties.
Opposite the guard's truck abode is a junk-yard of crashed vehicles, tractors and various other parts that have fallen off discarded OLAM transport.Apparently the OLAM drivers tend to crash their trucks quite regularly - the roads are bad here in Morrumbala.
But I think the driver's are almost as unpredictable as the bush tracks they drive along.
A little further on are some more of the dented pick-ups.
Perhaps the other guards shall turn them into guard stations some time in the future.
Down the road is scaffolding holding up piping that runs into a derelict incinerator. A couple of weeks ago the piping collapsed and this is how it has been repaired.
I usually walk very fast when I have to pass under it.
It's the biggest bad luck ladder I could possibly walk under!
The ever present African children encourage me to run as fast as I can...
Still alive after passing the scaffolding, I get to massive piles of cotton that has been stacked on pallets.
I think it looks something like the circus has come to town with all the bright tarpaulins draped over them.
The flamboyant trees are still in bloom and add to the primary colours.
In one of the factories there are sacks upon sacks of cotton waiting to be sorted by the pickers and then it is sent to the actual gin.
Once the cycle is complete, it is packed into plastic bales ready to be transported to Mozambique ports.
A great deal is shipped to Mauritius where they have a large textile industry.
The OLAM offices are around the next turn and I am usually walking so early that the workers have not arrived at the gates.
If they are there, they greet me with cheery waves and greetings.
There is more discarded agriculture machinery outside the staff housing area.
Caterpillars and tractors stand forsaken on deflated tyres.
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