Deadly Harvest by Michael Stanley

twenty minutes.
    Witness’s sadness turned to anger in a flash. It was ­people like Marumo who were responsible. Rich, famous, with big smiles, they could attract girls like the one who’d impersonated Tombi. Marumo and his friends were responsible for how bad Botswana had become, where nobody had morals anymore, where girls could disappear without a trace for God only knew what reason.
    He threw his teacup onto the floor and rushed to get dressed. Then he ran down the road toward the school. A large group of ­people were headed toward the playing field, which had a small platform set up at one end, surrounded by Botswana flags, alternating with posters of Pitso and Marumo. V OTE FOR F REEDOM posters were everywhere.
    â€œI’ll show him,” Witness muttered as he neared the school. As he panted into the parking lot, he saw the politicians walking toward the platform.
    â€œRapist!” Witness shouted and sprinted toward the group. “You’re the Devil!”
    As he charged, several ­people tried to stop him, but he shoved them aside. Gordon and another of his drinking friends from Big Mama’s, who’d come to see the Freedom Party rally, spotted him and called out. When they saw Witness running toward the dignitaries, they shouted at him to stop, but he didn’t hear them. As he reached the front of the crowd, several young men pounced on him and brought him to the ground. He screamed and lashed out, catching one of the men with a glancing blow to the head. But they hung on, shouting for the police. At that moment, Witness’s two friends dashed up.
    â€œDon’t call the police!” Gordon exclaimed. “We’ll take him home. His daughter has disappeared, and he’s not himself.” Each took an arm. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything silly.” Reluctantly, the men pinning Witness agreed, not wanting a scene. Witness’s friends hauled him away from the crowd to their car and drove him home.
    They spent the next few hours inside Witness’s house drinking beer. The two men tried to persuade Witness that Marumo was just another politician, that his morals were no better and no worse than anyone else’s.
    â€œWitness, my friend. You’re imagining things. Marumo wouldn’t pick up young girls in a public place. And he wasn’t even in town that day!”
    â€œGet this nonsense out of your head,” Gordon said. “You’ll only get into trouble, and that won’t help matters.”
    Witness listened, but he didn’t believe. He knew what he knew. Marumo was an evil man. A man without morals. A man who seduced young girls. But, as they spoke, he just nodded, wishing they’d leave him alone.
    Eventually, when the men were sure that the rally had ended, they took their leave with a stern warning that Witness should behave. “Listen to us! Don’t do anything stupid!”
    As they walked to their car, Gordon shook his head. “Poor Witness,” he said to his friend. “He lost his wife last year, then he lost Tombi last week. Now he’s lost himself.”

TEN

    S UNDAYS WERE F AMILY DAYS in the Bengu household. Kubu liked to stay in bed late, Joy curled up by his side, and let his mind float in and out of sleep. Later they would drive to Mochudi for lunch with his parents, a tradition that was rarely missed. Finally, in the evening, the family would relax at home.
    This Sunday, Kubu woke near seven with the sun streaming through the window. Joy was still asleep, and he could hear that Tumi and Nono were already awake and playing with Ilia in their room. They were obviously teasing the fox terrier, because every time she barked, there were loud shushes from the girls. Kubu smiled, but it faded as he thought of Nono’s future.
    She and Tumi played well together and enjoyed each other’s company. Around Joy and Kubu, she was polite and restrained, and she seemed to regard her