Hope flashed into the weary lives of Heidi and Dirk Visagie only to be cruelly crushed days later. Just an hour's drive from Harare, the Afrikaners were in the office of the district lands officer in small town Chegutu - it was their last, desperate attempt to save their small farm.

Glowering opposite them was Timothy Mudavanhu, a minor functionary of President Robert Mugabe's Zanu-PF party, who has been plaguing their lives for nine years.

Most of Zimbabwe's dispossessed 4000 white farmers have endured these supposed arbitrations to defend their livelihoods. Racist abuse is hurled at them by officials and often they are threatened and spat at. Eventually they leave in humiliation - and defeat.

Frank (not his real name), a lands official at Chegutu, flipped through the Visagies' sheaf of four high court orders affirming their right to Wantage farm. Once issued by a judge, the injunctions are routinely ignored.

Frank looked up. "The matter is clear, " he said. "The law must take its course." The Visagies and Mudavanhu were stunned. In 10 years of free-for-all land grabbing there is no record of a lands officer having acted in favour of a white farmer.

Despite Mudavanhu's shouting, Frank was resolute. He said the meeting was over. Mudavanhu asked if he was being kicked out like a dog. Frank replied: "No. A dog has four legs."

The Visagies giggled and went home on a high, but victory lasted only 11 days. Mudavanhu returned to Wantage with his rent-a-mob. After going to Harare to see a lawyer the Visagies returned to find the padlock on their gate broken.

Mudavanhu's lock was in its place and drunks were on the lawn around a bonfire. All the Visagies had was their car, cellphones and the clothes they stood up in.

A call to Frank established that the lands officer had been wrapped over the knuckles. "I have been transferred," he told them. "Please do not tell anyone you have spoken to me."

Eventually, with pressure from the South African Embassy - Dirk Visagie is a South African citizen - Mudavanhu was eased out by the deputy sheriff, still bawling that he would be back for "my farm".

Heidi says she felt nauseous during the bubble, which lasted 11 days. "It was like the Mad Hatter's tea party. Now I know where we stand."

She is 38 and a third-generation Zimbabwean. She and her husband, 42, bought Wantage in 2001.

The government gave them a certificate stating the farm was not needed for resettlement. But three months later, Mudavanhu burnt down their citrus orchard.

She has been punched in the face and had a gun to her head. Crops were flattened, the Visagie house emptied. The mob held the gardener's head underwater in the swimming pool to get the house keys. Her soft-spoken, gentle appearance is deceptive. Mudavanhu once told Visagie that Cecil Rhodes was her uncle. She exploded: "I am an Afrikaner! We went to war against the British, they put my people in concentration camps. Don't you call me British!"

When the Visagies are left alone they run a thriving operation on their 86-hectare holding which produces 240 tons of tomatoes a year for a nearby cannery. There are also rows of tuberoses, a fragrant lily.

Dirk is a meticulous farmer, his wife says. But every time Mudavanhu ploughs through their crops, it takes something out of you, she says.

Usually her husband puts on a brave face with each onslaught, but last time he gave up. The couple even lost their sense of humour, until a swarm of bees set on Mudavanhu as he was ranting at them.

Dirk has a heart problem, and the stress gives his wife eczema. Each time Mudavanhu takes occupation she moves their belongings to relatives. When he has been fought off, she returns. The unpacking restores her sanity. She was putting away tea cups when I arrived. But she knows Mudavanhu will be back.