We sat at the crossroads; it was early in the rainy season and we all sweated gently in the humidity. I say crossroads, but really they were just dirt tracks. The one from the east led in from the coast and went on to the big lake, to the village where we lived and from which we had motored early in the morning in the Land Rover. The southern track wasn’t up to much but the north-going one went on to the diamond mines. There were four of us: the forestry officer, the game ranger, the bank manager, and myself;…