Clothes shop Alcatraz is jammed with new imports from Dubai, Singapore and Malaysia: Britney T-shirts, black tops with a seqinned British queen on (surely not PC), spikey-heeled fake suede boots (what -- for Summer?). Not so long ago, in the depths of Zimbabwe's economic crisis, places like these were empty, echoing hangars. I browse through the rails, prick up my ears when I hear a familiar song.
"If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands," the assistant sings.
Another joins her. They loll underneath the clothes, singing loudly above the roar of the generator. "If you really want to show it, if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands." And the next verse, the Shona ex-Sunday school version: "If you're happy and you know it, say Amen..."
How long since I heard that song sung here in Zimbabwe?
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