"Let me see your ring." The man behind the onions seizes my hand. I'm choosing large potatoes in TM supermarket. (800 US 'phone bill for the month = jacket potatoes and baked beans several nights running, plus cheese if you're very lucky).
"How many carats is it?" he asks. I've no idea. It was my mother-in-law's ring.
"I'm asking because I can get you a diamond like that," the teller says.
Oh. I thought the days of the Chiadzwa diamond rush were over. Mai D. told me Sunday the makorokoza (digger) who was renting her cottage had gone for good (without paying the rent, of course).
"This diamond is not from Marange," I say defensively. "It's an old ring."
"It's one carat," he says. "I know all about diamonds. Yours is from Sierra Leone."
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