birthday

On the bumpy mud track leading to the homestead, blue plastic bags hide each bunch of bananas so that each tree is dotted with huge gaudy baubles.

"I took my grandchildren up the hill the other weekend for a birthday party," says a farmer. "Seven kids, all under the age of 10."

We're sitting in a shade-dappled garden, sprinkler going and that chill in the air you get - despite the sun -- when the Zimbabwean winter's about to set in. I look at the wine and the curry and the perfect rice and dhal and poppadums and Greek cakes and good books and a huge floppy dog. Not for the first time, I get that trapped-in-time feeling I often get on still-white-owned farms.

"When we came back down again, the army trucks were waiting." He takes a sip of wine. "Wanted to know what political meeting we'd been holding up there."

The authorities -- or rather those loyal to the president -- have been clamping down on all gatherings, revving up, no doubt, for elections Mr Mugabe is determined to hold before the end of the year, despite widespread fears of violence. A History Society meeting was recently broken up in Harare: too many whites in one place made the gathering "suspect" (read: likely pro-opposition MDC).

"I said to them: Why would I take kids to a political meeting? If I wanted to hold a meeting, why wouldn't I just hold it in my house?" He sighs.

"And I'm going to have the same problem next month, when the Tree Society of Zimbabwe come."