A sudden wave of frustration swamps Rudd. He shoves his mug to the middle of the table. “Why does this country keep falling apart? It’s embarrassing. And it just becomes normal. Then other people fix us. I don’t get it.”

Bernard clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth.

“Oh well,” says Fred, winking, “at least you might get some business out of the Aid gurus who’ll come in now, to help us sort this out. They’re going to need somewhere to stay.”

Rudd gives a half smile, his eyes resigned.

“Oh dear! What a mess,” says Marybelle cheerfully. “Rudd, why not go to Vic Falls? Everyone says it’s brilliant there.”

 “Doesn’t appeal,” says Rudd with a shrug.

“Oh? Not go to Vic Falls? I was told I must,” says Father Norman.

Rudd looks across at the priest with his sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. “Of course you must go,” he says. “The Falls are amazing. I just wouldn’t want to work there.”

 “Got to see the Falls,” agrees Fred.

“I’ve been once,” says Marybelle. “Went with my mother when I was little. She used to say the Falls were like the Earth pouring out its soul.” She is about to enthuse some more, when the sound of helicopter rotors whines up from the golf course below. “That must be the doctors,” she says, squinting her eyes towards the sound.

“Not going to be an easy day for them,” says Father Norman.

Rudd gets up and walks to the edge of the verandah, and watches the helicopter blades wind faster and faster, sunlight bouncing off them as they lift up and over the trees, and then spin off into the distance.

“At least they’re Zimbabwean,” Uncle Fred calls out to him as he walks back to the table and sits down again. Rudd smiles and tips his chair back, hands linked behind his head, half listening to the conversation, half wondering what it will be like to work on boats in the Med. He hears Fred ask Marybelle about her plans.

“Me? I’m staying here. Not here, here, although maybe a few days more, if I can be some help.”

 “You could do with her help couldn’t you Rudd?” Fred asks.

 Rudd brings his chair straight again. “Of course, but if there’s the chance of a ride back to Harare, I think you should take it Marybelle.” As he says this Rudd realises suddenly how Marybelle will react. He tries to apologise. “No … I … didn’t mean …”

“Don’t want to be a burden,” says Marybelle softly.

“Marybelle, please, you know what I mean. I can’t even begin to tell you how much of a help you’ve been. For a start, you’ve fed us all. You’ve been brilliant.”

Marybelle sniffs, and smiles. “Oh Rudd. Ignore me,” she says. “I just hate this getting old thing. Of course it makes sense for me to go if there’s a chance.”

“Anyway Marybelle,” says Fred, “that wasn’t my question really. I want to know what you’re going to do in the future? Any plans? Off to anywhere?”

“Me? I’m staying in Zim. Can’t go anywhere anyway. No passport. No money.”

“Like most of us,” says Fred.

 “Me too,” says Father Norman, sighing heavily. “I’m not going anywhere until that mission truck gets unburied.”

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023