War vet at the door.

Its me again. This week our area was on red alert, information had been leaked that there could be a reoccurrence of trashing and looting in our area. Not good for the head. I immediately checked the little suitcase, fresh knickers, passports, picture of granny ,yes all was in tact I kicked it under the bed. I surveyed the house how ridiculous I had just finished unpacking the refugee stuff could I be homeless again, so soon. It wasn't worth thinking of so I decided to go for a run. I squeezed myself into my running shorts put on my refugee Reeboks and headed for the hills. 

The dogs wagged their tails in open admiration as I cantered down the road. Its so great going with dogs because they don't mind you staggering to a standstill while you wheezily gasp for air. They patiently wait for you coming over the crest of the hill and nip your heels encouragingly as you lie in the middle of the road recovering from the stitch in your side. 

Well to cut a long story short I returned from the run, flopped on the couch trying to breathe, was that rasping noise really me. I closed my eyes briefly only to open them again with the cook bent over me. Now Kapira is old and deaf. Madam he shouted war vet wants to see you. I flicked off the couch my legs felt like two strands of sphagetti, where I screamed?. He pointed his thumb in the direction of the door, "its war vets" he repeated loudly. I leopard crawled to the sideboard and reached for my self defense pepper spray. Could be useful with a panga wielding war vet. 

The cook was looking incredulous and slightly puzzled at my actions. I peered out the window, couldn't see any war vets, and there was no shouting and screaming either. I backtracked to the bedroom, nope nothing there. Perhaps it was just a lone one. By this time the cook was following me, he looked more alarmed than ever. Its just war vet he shouted. I sidled into the kitchen, a shuffly sort of crouch, the cook looked as though he was going to burst into tears. I carefully peered out of the window and oh yes!!!! There was Orbert the foreman he had come to give me some money for some clothes he had sold. I know, !! But its not my fault Kapira has a speech impediment and I am a nervous wreck.

Mandy Retzlaff
Bvumba
Zimbabwe