"Tension sets in." I catch the headline as a vendor holds up the Financial Gazette at the robot (southern African-speak for traffic lights). (No-one has the cash to actually buy the pink paper these days. No-one has the cash to buy anything or pay any bills these days. But that's another story).
In the small hours, I lie awake. The mosquitoes are bad this season. It's all that uncollected rubbish. Round the corner, the women from the Salvation Army sing. It's one of their many all-night vigils. I have been lulled to sleep so many times in Zimbabwe by outdoor choirs.
This time though I think there is something frenzied about the clapping.
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