of the old regime, makes it clear he is not going to set himself above the people. Peasant people. He lets it be known he is keeping chickens and anyone can drop in, African style…’
‘No one is going to drop in now. He’s surrounded by security fences and guards armed with kalashnikovs.’
‘You don’t think there might be some connection between putting up security fences and white louts turning up to jeer and shout threats? You don’t think Mugabe goes around in a motorcade because you people would cut his throat as soon as look at him?’
‘ Louts? ’
‘Louts.’
He glares at me.
I glare back.
He went to bed. I went out into the cold dark of the garden and stood there for a long time, hoping that beyond the security fence I would see the dim shape of a duiker moving about in the starlight. But the dogs stood quietly by me, looking straight out, so there was nothing there.
We were up by five-thirty, awakened with that long forgotten amenity, the early morning cup of tea. At seven we sat down to an old-fashioned English breakfast, laid before us by Joseph, a smiling friendly young man who had already asked how he could come to London and work in my house as my servant. I said we didn’t have servants: that is, only a few rich people had them. He stared at me, unhappy, because he wanted to live in London where the streets are paved with gold. Then, ‘Who does your work for you? Who cleans your house? Who cooks your food?’ When I said most people cleaned their own houses and cooked their food, he shook his head, disapproving.
During breakfast Harry was angry, and I listened to The Monologue again. I knew by now I was going to hear it over and over again, during this trip. At any given time, all the people of the same kind will be saying the same things, often using the same phrases. It is this mechanism that journalists rely on: interview two or three people and you know what everyone is saying. (Similarly, if you want to know what the literary world is thinking, in London, you need only to spend half an hour with a representative of it to know what writers are in, what writers are out, and exactly the words used for these pronouncements of the communal mind.)
Harry was angry because of problems with his business, which made pictures from feathers and articles like buttons and key-rings from ox horn. It had been successful before Independence, but now, with so many of the customers gone–they had Taken the Gap–it was struggling. Black girls came from a nearby farm village to work. It seemed there was a troublemaker among the girls, she set all the others off, yet the girls had been given everything they asked for. They brought their babies and small children with them to work, they came and went as they felt inclined…no, it was all impossible, he was glad he was Taking the Gap.
Where did the phrase originate? White people who left Southern Rhodesia, and then Zimbabwe, for The Republic, * ‘Took the Gap’.
My brother was prepared to leave this pleasant house, built by himself and a black builder whom he said was a good chap–working with him was a pleasure–leave this great garden, laid out by his dead wife, leave this district, where he had lived most of his life, for a lower standard of living in The Republic not only because he had a daughter in The Republic, but because it stuck in his craw to live under a black government.
‘And now I’ve got to put up with their bloody Labour Officer telling me what to do. I have to abide by whatever decision he sees fit to come up with. I have to do what he says.’
After breakfast the Labour Officer arrived. He was on a bicycle. My brother invited him, with cold formality, to sit down. This of course could not have happened in the old days. We three sat on the verandah and Joseph brought out tea. He and the Labour Officer exchanged greetings in the Shona style.
‘Good morning.’
‘Good morning.’
‘Have you slept well?’
‘I have slept
‘No one is going to drop in now. He’s surrounded by security fences and guards armed with kalashnikovs.’
‘You don’t think there might be some connection between putting up security fences and white louts turning up to jeer and shout threats? You don’t think Mugabe goes around in a motorcade because you people would cut his throat as soon as look at him?’
‘ Louts? ’
‘Louts.’
He glares at me.
I glare back.
He went to bed. I went out into the cold dark of the garden and stood there for a long time, hoping that beyond the security fence I would see the dim shape of a duiker moving about in the starlight. But the dogs stood quietly by me, looking straight out, so there was nothing there.
We were up by five-thirty, awakened with that long forgotten amenity, the early morning cup of tea. At seven we sat down to an old-fashioned English breakfast, laid before us by Joseph, a smiling friendly young man who had already asked how he could come to London and work in my house as my servant. I said we didn’t have servants: that is, only a few rich people had them. He stared at me, unhappy, because he wanted to live in London where the streets are paved with gold. Then, ‘Who does your work for you? Who cleans your house? Who cooks your food?’ When I said most people cleaned their own houses and cooked their food, he shook his head, disapproving.
During breakfast Harry was angry, and I listened to The Monologue again. I knew by now I was going to hear it over and over again, during this trip. At any given time, all the people of the same kind will be saying the same things, often using the same phrases. It is this mechanism that journalists rely on: interview two or three people and you know what everyone is saying. (Similarly, if you want to know what the literary world is thinking, in London, you need only to spend half an hour with a representative of it to know what writers are in, what writers are out, and exactly the words used for these pronouncements of the communal mind.)
Harry was angry because of problems with his business, which made pictures from feathers and articles like buttons and key-rings from ox horn. It had been successful before Independence, but now, with so many of the customers gone–they had Taken the Gap–it was struggling. Black girls came from a nearby farm village to work. It seemed there was a troublemaker among the girls, she set all the others off, yet the girls had been given everything they asked for. They brought their babies and small children with them to work, they came and went as they felt inclined…no, it was all impossible, he was glad he was Taking the Gap.
Where did the phrase originate? White people who left Southern Rhodesia, and then Zimbabwe, for The Republic, * ‘Took the Gap’.
My brother was prepared to leave this pleasant house, built by himself and a black builder whom he said was a good chap–working with him was a pleasure–leave this great garden, laid out by his dead wife, leave this district, where he had lived most of his life, for a lower standard of living in The Republic not only because he had a daughter in The Republic, but because it stuck in his craw to live under a black government.
‘And now I’ve got to put up with their bloody Labour Officer telling me what to do. I have to abide by whatever decision he sees fit to come up with. I have to do what he says.’
After breakfast the Labour Officer arrived. He was on a bicycle. My brother invited him, with cold formality, to sit down. This of course could not have happened in the old days. We three sat on the verandah and Joseph brought out tea. He and the Labour Officer exchanged greetings in the Shona style.
‘Good morning.’
‘Good morning.’
‘Have you slept well?’
‘I have slept
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