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1 17 S SA AL LM MA AG GU UN ND DI I Talk about coincidences! George had dug out his copy of The Matopos, edited by Sir Robert Tredgold, K.C.M.G. It was a revised edition of ‘A Guide to the Matopos’ by Dr E.A. Nobbs (all those abbreviations), and had been published by The Federal Department of Printing and Stationery , 1956, the year George’s little brother, Percy, had been born, and died. At the back of the book there was a fold-out map of the Matopos area, which, George hoped, might include the location of Empandeni Mission. Unfortunately it didn’t extend that far, but there, at the western end of the Matopos, was his grandmother’s birth place: Old Mangwe Fort. Empandeni Mission would be a few kilometres further west, close to the Botswana border. George felt an inexplicable surge of apprehension. He would visit the place where his family had begun, in 1896, the year of the first Chimurenga. The fort had been built during the outbreak of the Matabele War in 1893. Its purpose was to guard the coach road that led to Bulawayo, the road along which the first whites had entered the land controlled by Mzilikazi , king of the warlike Matabele. First came the hunters, then the missionaries , then the traders. It was an underground fort, circular in structure, like a doughnut; only, where the hole should have been there was a column of earth and rock, which supported a roof made of Mopani poles and sand bags. After the Matabele War it was used as a storage facility for grain; consequently it became infested with vermin. It was to this sanctuary that about 150 settlers fled during the 1896 uprisings. There they suffered for many months, in constant fear of having their throats cut: the archetypal colonial nightmare. That the fort was never attacked is one of the more poignant ironies of Zimbabwean history. A voice from a cave in the Matopos gave orders to the warriors that the road to the south should be left open so that the settlers could run back to wherever 108 they had come from. Instead it gave reinforcements, under the command of Plumer, free access to provide relief for the embattled white community . If it weren’t for Mlimo, thought George with more sentiment than irony, I wouldn’t be where I am today. The bastard! In order to punish George for going to prison in her time, Beauticious arranged to hire him out for a wedding the following weekend. Normally he got a five per cent cut and he was allowed to keep any tips, but this time he would get no cut and he would have to surrender his tips. Fair is fair. I mean! Some months before, Beauticious had hired, for George to wear, an Elizabethan outfit, doublet and hose, from the theatre club. Among the nouveau riche of Zimbabwe there is a tacit understanding that what you hire or borrow you need not return; and Beauticious had no intention of returning the costume, or the various stuffed animals she had hired, through a contact of a contact of a contact (above board since they were all somehow related) from Bulawayo’s Museum of Natural History . At least she didn’t steal them, like those settler bastards who stole the soapstone Zimbabwe birds! Or those goffels who stole the gold cup that was presented every year at the Trade Fair to the farmer whose bull had the biggest balls! Hokoyo! George had thus far performed at two weddings. It was his job to drive the car (the madam’s blinded Wabenzi) which brought the bride and her pre-nuptial entourage to the church; thence the bride and her post-nuptial entourage (the groom squeezed in) to the fountain in the Centenary Park, for photographs. It was also his job to decorate the car with ribbons and balloons. Most important of all was the ceremony of opening the doors for the distinguished passengers. His anachronistic presence was an endless source of amusement for the guests – one man in his time plays many parts (not those ‘parts’, George!) – and how he hated it. But it wasn’t going to happen. George had other plans. Today was Sunday . He’d give the boys their last lesson on King Lear. The following day, Monday, he would go to work as usual (the Minister was back in town, id est, back in...

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