A few days before his wedding, Lieutenant Conteh called again to see James Bartlett.
"I have to tell you that there are now many more war veterans than before," announced the Lieutenant, gravely. "Not all of them are in the village, either, but some are camped out around the farm ready to move on to your land."
"I have heard that," replied Bartlett. "They have been to the fence and the gate many times, and we have spoken to them about their intentions. Mr. Mbele also has reported that they have been much more active among the farm workers, many of whom have already taken fright and left."
"As I feared," said Conteh. "They will move into the empty houses around the estate as soon as they feel free to do so, but they still assure me that they will not make a move to take over your farm until after my wedding."
"They have told us that," agreed James Bartlett, "and I cannot thank you enough for keeping them at bay for as long as you have and giving us the time to plan an orderly departure."
"What exactly are your plans now?" asked the policeman.
"We shall leave here to attend your wedding, and not return," replied Bartlett with a sigh of resignation. "Most of our stuff has already been moved out, and is now in the Western Cape, where we shall eventually make our new home. We had planned to take our most valuable belongings with us - personal things like jewellery and so on - but we have heard such dreadful tales of looting at the border that we have made other arrangements for that now."
"The war veterans have told me that you may leave with your pick-up truck and your big Volvo car if you wish," said Conteh.
"I shall only take the pick-up," replied Bartlett. "I think two cars crossing the border, on what is supposed to be a holiday, would only arouse suspicion. I plan to leave the Volvo Estate in the care of Mr Bangura at his workshop, where my son can collect it at some time. It should be safe there."
"I agree," said Conteh. "That sounds sensible, if I may say so."
"I hope, when we have gone, that you will be able to keep an eye on things as best you can," pleaded Mr. Bartlett. "Make sure they don't do too much damage to the property - that sort of thing. After all, this represents all I have in the world, more or less."
"From what I hear," said Lt. Conteh, "the house should be all right. I understand that the Local Government Minister in Bulawayo has plans to move in when you leave."
"But he knows nothing about farming," protested Bartlett.
"He is not coming here to run the farm," responded the policeman. "He has been 'given' the house as a reward for services rendered to the party, the President and his cronies."
There was a long silence.
"What a disgraceful state this country has come to," said a sad James Bartlett. "My own country, too, although I become ashamed to admit it."
"At least your old homestead will not be taken over by the war veterans," said Conteh.
"That's little comfort," replied Bartlett.
Conteh nodded.
"The Government is robbing me of my house and my property," said Bartlett. "There's no other way of looking at it."
"I agree it is a crime," said Lt. Conteh. "But it's one I can do nothing about. I can't prevent it, and I can do nothing after the crime has been committed."
"But you will keep an eye on the place for me from time to time, when you're passing?"
"I am sorry, but I can't even do that. After my wedding I am being promoted and moved to Bulawayo. I am so sorry," Conteh said again.
"I am pleased for you that you are getting promotion," said Bartlett. "But you will be missed hereabouts."
The man sighed.
"No doubt old Mr. Mbele will look after things as best he can."
"I'm sure he will," replied the policeman. "He and his son."
Conteh stood to leave. "I hope your departure goes smoothly," he said. "I hope you will be able to share a little of my happiness at my wedding on your way. I am proud that you were able to accept my invitation."