no questions asked

"I'll need a knife," T. says. "For protection."

Living in Zimbabwe, we've got used to watching our backs. Nothing valuable or sensitive is ever stored on the hard-drive of our main computer. Everything is on the flash-stick. Two flash-sticks in fact. His n' hers, only his has a lot of hers stuff on it. Four days ago, his flash-stick was stolen. Along with some digital equipment, a phone book containing several years worth of contacts and some household bills that nicely display our address. All in a brown leather bag, which might have looked as if it was stuffed with US dollar bills.

After the initial gut-twisting panic, we tried to make a plan. My father-in-law printed posters, offering a reward for the return of the flash-stick. His office help trawled computer dealers in town, begging them not to sell on any secondhand flashsticks that came into their possession. We alerted everyone we could think of. T. too, volunteers to help. "They'll sell it on. Obviously," he says.

T has a neighbour who managed to recover money stolen from his wife last week. T's neighbour wants to team up with T. on the understanding they'll split the reward money. We have to provide transport for T and Co. to get to the place where the stuff was stolen. Co. reckons he should be able to identify which tsotsis operate from there. The pair of them plan to raid the tsotsis' hideout.

"But T," I say (I mean, I do desperately want this flashstick back) - "Won't you get into trouble with the police if they find you with a knife?"

"Only if I'm using it," he says.

In the end we give him a catapult. For protection.