Guest
A man stood on the pavement in Main street Bulawayo. Across the wide road from him were hundreds of people all anxiously waiting. The man, dressed as he had for many years, in camouflage shirt, shorts and ‘vellies’. His young son’s arms were wrapped around his father’s bare leg; Suddenly there was a deathly hush… they were coming. A feint methodical crunch as hob-nailed boots, striking the tarmac surface with exacting precision, became audible. With every precise step the crowd’s anticipation grew. But no
