Yakabatanidzwa ruzha

The facility sprawls before you in sterile silence. Your footsteps echo through the main barn, a cavernous space divided into twenty individual stalls, each equipped with steel feeding troughs and reinforced restraint points embedded in concrete floors. The air smells of disinfectant and fresh paint—the previous owner sanitized everything before the transfer, leaving behind only the bones of an operation. You run your hand along the milking stations in the processing room. Six hydraulic chairs