fuel

Fuel shortages irritate me, but not in the same way they irritate my husband's family. I will let the gauge sink down to empty and then happily drive for what I estimate to be another 50 kilometres with the red light flashing before reluctantly consigning the car to the yard. This horrifies my mother-in-law, who makes a habit of stopping "to top up" at every garage she passes. Those blackboard signs in Zimbabwean garage forecourts that say Petrol: No. Diesel: No are the stuff of her nightmares. I thought it was just one of those: we-do-it-like-this-and-you-do-it-like-that things until a weekend with the extended family in Bulawayo. "We always keep the tank full," says my father-in-law's cousin thoughtfully. "Always have done. It's from the war days.

"You had to be ready to leave at a moment's notice."