Night Of Knives

Chapter 33

The children see them as they descend the gentle slope, and by the time they reach the house, the unexpected visitors have attracted a crowd of more than fifty people. About a dozen are adults. Their once-bright clothes are ragged and faded; several of the smaller children wear no clothes at all. A few of the adults looked dangerously thin. Some of the men carry hoes and big sticks, but Veronica is almost too exhausted to be afraid. If these people attack them, so be it. But she doesn't think they will. They look more to be pitied than frightened.

"Hello," she says, as loudly as she could manage, and holds her hands up in the universal we-come-in-peace gesture.

Lovemore greets the crowd that faces them in an African language. Shona, Veronica supposes. After a brief pause the eldest man answers. His voice is clear, but he is so thin and weak that he has to lean on another man, and there are visible sores on his face. He and the several other gaunt adults are dying of AIDS. Veronica guesses there are more in the house and the shelters, too weak to come see their visitors.

Lovemore pauses in conversation with the eldest man to update Jacob and Veronica. "I told him we got off the train to look around when it stopped, and it left without us."

"Are you sure that was a good idea?" Jacob asks, keeping his voice very low. Veronica supposes on one level that's sensible, English is the country's official language and some of them might 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.