budiriro

The Revellers NiteClub is on the left and we are not anywhere near Tadiwa's place.

"Where are you?" Tadiwa's father says on the 'phone. His English is heavily-accented, as mine must sound to him. "Is that in Budiriro 1 or 3?" Budiriro township has several sections and we are not, it seems, in the right one. Meet you by the cholera clinic, that's what she'd said. We have a map. A very ancient map. On the map, Budiriro has one red cross so that's what we're aiming for. Thing is, roads have appeared and disappeared since the map was made. There are potholes and piles of rubbish and vendors and buses and chickens and no street signs. The sight of our car -- with us in it -- causes a major stir.

"I'll give you directions," calls one man. Too sensitive, not wanting to rub the cholera bit in (nor make them think we're aid workers or nosy journalists) we settle for asking for directions to the community centre, which the map says should be just round the corner. Two sullen security guards direct us to a community centre, but it's definitely not the one we want.

On our right, there's the Apostolic Faith Mission. Now there's another landmark we were looking for. We follow the road round. The cholera clinic should be here surely...

A few kilometres on, as we meander through a maze of tiny streets, we have to concede that there must be several Apostolic Faith Missions in Budiriro.

"We'll have to turn round," he says desperately. It's getting dark. We want to be out of the township before night falls.

Past a new borehole, a UNICEF bowser. There are vegetable vendors in the mud, near the rubbish. Suddenly, the clinic looms, mostly hidden from sight behind sheets of plastic. We can see someone moving around inside. It is quiet tonight. Cholera has moved from the city mostly now, into the hard-to-reach rural areas.

Tadiwa appears in the long grass at the side of the car, a plump, shy sister in tow. "Did you get lost?"