Zimbabwe
‘Ah, and no cake to offer you!’ Mrs H— said. ‘I would have baked one if only I’d known you were coming.’ It was teatime in Zimbabwe. A golden afternoon sunlight streamed across the shrivelled garden lawn and the mopani woodland beyond. Mr H— chipped in, ‘But of course the telephone is cut off, so you could not have called.’ We all made polite noises but one thing was clear. This elderly couple had no cakes to bake. I looked into their faces and saw they were starving. A neighbour had encouraged me to visit the couple to boost their spirits. He had said, ‘I’m very worried about them. I won’t be surprised if I hear they’ve shot or hanged themselves.’ So my group drove over there and as the car entered the drive we found them, looking suspicious and scared.
Mr and Mrs H— (to reveal their names would put them at more risk than they already are) settled in Zimbabwe 29 years ago, investing all they had into a livestock and game farm.
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