speak it, but it also makes them look suspicious. "If they hear the army's looking for people from the train –"
"Where else would we have come from?" Veronica asks, making a point of speaking normally. "I don't think it matters. I don't think they exactly keep up with current events out here."
"She's right," Lovemore says. "That road no longer goes anywhere, it leads to a bridge that broke two years ago. They say they must take an oxcart twenty kilometres to reach the nearest taxi stop. He says they'll take us if we pay a good price."
Veronica winces. "And we burned all our Zim dollars."
Jacob says, "I'm sure even here they understand US dollars. But we're down to our last ten bucks."
Lovemore says, "I have American dollars. Not many, but enough."
The elderly man declaims something loud and rhythmic.
"What was that?" Veronica asks.
"He invited us to eat with them."
Veronica's throat is aflame with thirst, and her stomach quickens at the thought of food.
Jacob hesitates. "Can we trust them? They're war vets. What if they…"
"What? Poison us? Don't be ridiculous," Veronica snaps, exasperated. "They're not the enemy. They're just people. If they wanted to come after us they'd just do it now. And I don't think I can talk much longer if I don't get something to drink. Tell him we accept."
Lovemore nods and speaks to the old man in Shona.
A crowd of children follow them as they continue to the house, which is in a half-rotted state, almost devoid of furniture and used largely for storage. The large ground-floor room off the entrance is inhabited by rusting tools and half-deflated cornmeal sacks marked by the depredations of vermin. There is obviously no power or running water any more, and without those, Veronica supposes African shelters are preferable to a big European-style house. Food is still prepared and washed on the kitchen's counters and sinks, but the cooking is done on an open fire in the back garden outside the kitchen. The dining room is dominated by a magnificent mahogany table, probably too big to have been removed from the house. The homemade wooden stools that now surround the table are crude but sturdy. Veronica wonders what the upstairs are like, if the bedrooms are used for anything or have simply been abandoned.
She greedily accepts a pot of tea and metal cup and promptly burns her tongue, unable to wait to quench the edge of her thirst. She drinks four more cups before her body's sharp need for water begins to dull and awareness of her surroundings return.
The room is full of people, most of them children, sitting on the stools and the floor, or leaning against the walls. Women bustle in the kitchen. Lovemore talks in laconic Shona with the war vets' patriarch and two other men. The children surround Veronica and Jacob, clustered around and under the table. A few of the more daring reach out to touch them before jumping back and giggling. Veronica smiles at them awkwardly. At least they do not have the distended bellies of the ill-fed, and their eyes are bright and lively. She wonders how many of them were born with HIV. According to Lysander more than one in three adult Zimbabweans has the virus.
The meal is preceded by a woman who circles among the diners with a bar of soap and pitcher of water; Veronica uses most of a pitcher to wash her hands. The food, which Lovemore calls sadza, is ground cornmeal garnished with tomato sauce and salt; a little like pocho, only better. It is brought in from outside in a huge serving bowl, dished out onto metal pans, and eaten with one's right hand. It isn't much, but Veronica devours two platefuls and is ready to give the house three Michelin stars when she is done.
"When do you think the army will get here?" Jacob asks.
Lovemore frowns. "It depends on how they search. Perhaps this afternoon. Perhaps as late as tomorrow, with the broken bridge."
"And then they'll know where we're going."
Lovemore considers. "These people may not speak. They too have been betrayed by the government. When they came here and took the property from the whites, Mugabe and the war-vet leaders promised them they would keep the power running, they would build schools and clinics, there would be taxi services every day, they would be given seeds and farming tools. Then the leaders went away and nothing happened. Now they have been abandoned. They say they don't want to stay.