Chaos.
One of my elderly friends phones early in the morning, asking if she can have a lift into town to do some shopping. John is going out anyway so he says he will pick her up.
I go out to try and get mealie meal for Elizabeth and find that overnight it has gone from $230 for 10kgs to $300 - and the US$ rate has dropped. At times, nowhere kills my faith in humanity more than Zimbabwe does. If anyone can make a quick buck they will, even out of the poorest, most vulnerable section of society.
At TelOne, I wait in a ginormous queue to buy a top-up voucher for the Internet as no one is sure whether they will be open next week. I overhear a man in the queue talking about Thorgrove, the infectious diseases hospital to which all COVID-19 cases are being referred:
'Thorngrove! Does anyone know anyone who has come out of there alive?'
I am so happy when I at last get home. We decide to take the dogs out for a walk. At the gate of Hillside Dams, the man in charge jokes that Rolo needs to wash his paws before coming in. Rolo growls at him in response. He then tells us that they will be closed from Monday which is pretty devastating news.
On the walk, we bump into a lady with two dogs. Tallulah is off the lead and she goes roaring up to them - but doesn't do anything besides sniff them out. This is most unusual and I can only think Sian's dog communication is working.
John plants the lettuces, chermolia and spinach seedlings that I bought yesterday and I mark entries for my school's literary festival. Everything is very unsettled: so normal, so strange.
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