I am an African first and foremost: Where will I go?

A white farmer explains why he is refusing to leave his family home despite the threatening presence of Mugabe's 'heavies'

The Shand farmhouse, Glendevon, has a lonely, isolated air. The swimming pool has turned olive-green and the braai (barbecue) area is empty. The land is also bare. At this time of year, the rich soil of Concession, 50 miles north of Harare, should be groaning with green winter wheat. Instead, it is a vast expanse of brown, weed-stubbled fields.

But Colin Shand's mind is not on wheat. For four days, the 58-year-old white farmer has been holed up in his farmhouse. His wife has gone to England; his daughter has fled to a rented house. Now his only company comes from Steady, the family's elderly black cook, five playful dogs, one grouchy cat and the Colt .45 handgun he keeps by his bed.

And, as President Robert Mugabe vowed to press ahead with land seizures yesterday, it was clear that the stand-off was not yet over. "It's been stressful. I can't leave the house," he said yesterday. "The main thing is the loneliness – boredom and loneliness."

As are more than 1,700 white farmers Mr Shand, a ruddy-faced, tough-skinned man, is refusing to budge in the face of President Mugabe's threats of eviction. On Thursday, hours before the eviction deadline expired, Mr Shand padlocked himself into the farmhouse, his wife's home of three generations. Since then he has hardly left; he has been sending e-mails, making mobile phone calls or watching satellite television, alternating between sport and the South African version of Big Brother. All the while, he keeps one ear cocked for the sound of angry voices and swinging iron bars.

He didn't bother listening to President Mugabe's speech yesterday. "I didn't want to hear it. I believe it wasn't even that good," he said afterwards. Instead, he watched South Africa play Pakistan at cricket.

He has not used his gun, but has reason to be careful. One night last week, the squatters on his farm attacked as he pulled up at the gate. His lawyer says that if attacked, he is within his rights to open fire.

"But the way things are now, she says I'll definitely go to jail, no matter what," he said matter-of-factly in his pick-up truck as we hurried towards the farm before nightfall. Inside, his wife had stripped the walls of paintings and photographs "in case we are ransacked".

During yesterday's speech, President Mugabe railed against "rapacious suprem-acists" who want to "own this country for Britain".

Over fish and chips in the chilly dining room, Mr Shand explained why he is a "Zimbabwean, an African, first and foremost". His mother's family came from England, his father's from South Africa. Lyn, his wife, goes back even further; she has buried three generations of family in their garden.

After leaving school, he joined the paramilitary Police Anti-Terrorist Unit, to fight "terrorist guerrillas, whatever you want to call them – Mugabe's men". But he would rather not delve into the details, saying that "all that is history now".

Since independence, Mr Shand has made friends with black Zimbabweans. The best golfer at the golf club where he socialises is a black man. But he would never allow one to marry his daughter. "The black man and the white man, it's different cultures. We're not the same," he said.

The past weekend was a peaceful, if stressful, time. "It's like waiting for a war to start," he confided on Saturday morning. A few hours later, the squatters ordered him to a meeting in the farm workshop.

The tone was conciliatory. The squatters discussed some misunderstandings that, they said, led to the attack on his truck. Mr Shand apologised for offending them. But the meeting was interrupted by the arrival of a pick-up carrying Zanu-PF officials. "I really thought the settlers were acting in good faith," he said later. "But those heavies just put a big damper on the whole thing."

Mr Shand is considering a deal offered by Zanu-PF lawyers, whereby he can keep 400 hectares (990 acres) of land in exchange for the title deeds. Other farmers received the same offer; the umbrella group Justice for Agriculture opposes it. Yesterday afternoon all was still quiet. Around Zimbabwe, farming officials had no reports of forced evictions.

"I think something might happen tomorrow," said Mr Shand. "It's just a feeling. But we'll wait and see."