crisis

Brown water = no clean clothes. "I've run out of underwear," he says. I look up guiltily. I raided his pile last time.

"Look," I say, rummaging. This is a crisis, after all. "Have my last one. At least it's clean though it is a bit - "

Bitty. And flowery. We start to laugh.

"No ways," he says. "And if I ever did, it would be just my luck: I'd get arrested with J and A and the police'll make us strip down to our underwear and J and A will say they always suspected..."

Only in Zimbabwe do you have to worry about things like that.