11th Dec pm: Further Insights

11th Dec pm  
There are no real motorways in Zimbabwe, so no quick 
routes and no driving in the fast lane .

Infrastructure:
Peak time is characterised by lots of horn beeping and curb driving. This is not a patch on some of the traffic in India, as seen on various tv documentaries  but definitely unsafe for bikes to weave in and out of. The grossly neglected roads are flanked by broken street lamps hence our  arrival on Monday along an extremely bumpy road with only pitch darkness to "welcome" us back home . The same traffic lights I left behind 18 years ago ( still barely standing) are covered in rust  and power cuts are almost a daily occurrence  . For this reason people keep their own diesel generators on standby at all times. Water is insufficiently treated. The government simply announced one day that it had run out of chlorine so people have to either boil their drinking water or fit chlorine filters to their taps (instructions which were only adhered to after a recent serious outbreak of cholera.)

I've already touched on the erosion of the public transport system.  I also found out that the  intercity train which regularly afforded me a relaxing overnight journey from Harare to Bulawayo,  is now only ever used by the severely desperate traveler and even then only  as a last resort.

My brother found out from his visit here about 2  years ago, that the only complete dual carriageway runs from Harare to Chitungwiza township, where Auntie J lives. There is another one that starts from the  city center and although intended to go all the way to Bulawayo, the opposite edge of Zimbabwe, it stops dead  just before Zvimba, 'coincidentally' the location of Bob's palace.

Economy:
In 2007 the trillion dollar note was introduced. It was worth 1 pound.
This well and truly sounded the death knell of the Zimbabwe dollar and the complete takeover of the US dollar. Immediately after that petrol became available at an affordable price and the economy began to stabilise.

However, before ordinary Zimbabweans could reap the benefits of US Dollarisation, the storage silos were yet again  found empty, when draught  struck in 2008. This robbed the nation of any respite from the the relentless struggle to survive in the face of  government  corruption and lack of investment. The rural poor died of malnutrition and the average  working classes were reduced to 1 meal per day. The mood was desperate but change was as elusive as ever if not short-lived.

Public services have all but disappeared, yet the present mood spanning Harare's social strata is one of resilience, driven by strong family ties and unrelenting optimism. In the absence of a social welfare state this could be viewed as a purely Darwinian survival instinct. However, even in these days of uncertainty, whatever the time of day, unexpected  visitors are as welcome as expected ones, as much for a hearty chin-wag as to share whatever there is in the cooking pot (usually sadza with savory vegetables, stew or both). I am thus reassured that the warmth of the Zimbabwean culture has not been diminished by a failed economy and  this inspires hope.

Back to the Homestead:

We visit cousin P in Braeside (formerly a predominantly mixed race neighborhood) to finalise memorial arrangements but it's like starting from scratch. We agree to drive around Harare with P and to later pick up Antie J (my mothers last remaining sister) from Chitungwiza township.

We start with Waterfalls (not Victoria Falls), the place where I spent my infancy with a brother and father (separated from my mother by the strains and restrictions of apartheid)  and later returned to as a university student. This once leafy middle class suburb is now occupied by the mechanical supplies and services  industry, hence the greasy, ram shackled and junkyardy appearance of our former garden. The original house still stands but each room is rented out by cousin P. He  faces a tough struggle every month to prize any rent money from tenants  and consequently has had their electricity supply cut off. But as a sure testament to the afore mentioned resilience  the mechanics on site are still in business using ramps, levers, pulleys and a selection of pre-industrial revolution methods to get the job done, albeit on Africa time like 'Come and collect your repaired van in 3 months time.’

I can still make out where the different rooms of my former home used to be and which parts of the yard once housed the goats, ducks  and chickens my father kept.  I am  pragmatic about the livelihood this place provides , despite the degradation.  My childhood here although filled with many happy memories, was far from idyllic so I'm happy to move on............except for 1 thing: Despite the fact that the mango, avocado and mulberry trees have  been preserved ,  I cannot hide my disappointment  that the tree I was most interested in, our rare guava tree which bore large, white, fleshy, juicy and sweet guavas has been replaced by a refreshment kiosk! (Heartbroken!)

  

11th Dec am : Nda Dzoka (I'm Back)

11th Dec am -Harare first impressions

We’re staying for a few days in Avondale, with family friends, J a lawyer and his wife T  who  is an ex-headteacher.  G (my sister-in-law) and I  wake up at 6.30 am for some cross training and  our long-awaited first glimpses of Harare in daylight. I sincerely hope this will quell the sinking feeling we began to feel last night, as we entered the capital city in the dark, sans any form of street lighting!

 It's cool this morning because it rained last night .  Harare’s urban-scape is generously furnished with luscious green foliage and looks as fertile as ever. The golden morning sun brushes its warm rays gently across my cheeks, as I smilingly note that there are vegetables and fruit trees everywhere, in allotments,  in-between and within  every garden,  like there always used to be! Orchard trees are  heavily hung over with fruit including bananas and mango trees of almost every variety. Cousin P later informed me that now-a-days people are nervous about when to plant their maize crops because this part of the world has not escaped changing climatic patterns. So planting and harvesting is late for many and staggered due to differing weather forecasts. 

Ghettoisation has crept into this affluent neighborhood in the form of poor street maintenance, worn paint, heavy rust and litter. I stare in silent bewilderment at the steady and uniform stream of cheap Japanese cars and rusty bikes driving past us, amidst incessant and unnecessary beeping of horns,  and rush hour cuts into the peace and tranquility of our morning power walk. With no buses in sight,  public transport  is limited to ETs (emergency taxis). These come in the form of  people carriers,  a step up from the battered old Peugeot 404 estate cars I formerly used to hop onto in a mad rush to get to lectures, during those heady days at University (the UZ was the only one in Zimbabwe at the time. Now there are 3 or 4...I have yet to find out more about the quality of courses on offer). The average ET is unlicensed and stuffed to bursting with commuters  who flag them down from any point along the road. It flaunts all safety rules and sensibilities. But one thing you can be sure of is that no matter how many tonnes of jet black fumes puff out of said ET, you will somehow arrive at your destination, remarkably intact for just US$1 (Z$1 in my day, a useful measure of inflation...but what do I know about economics or finance?).  

No amount of gloom mongering can prepare a nostalgic home-comer for the sense a malaise creeping up on me this morning, despite having returned with an open mind even after the grueling experience at Beitbridge (boarder between South Africa and Zimbabwe). In other parts of Harare as I find out later, the degradation is blatantly apparent but to put it down a widening rift between the haves and the have-nots would be an oversimplification of Harare’s current condition. I’m sure many would agree that even the nouveaux riche are hurting beneath the surface but the feeling that they are in many ways exposed and vulnerable  is perhaps more palpable to the first world outsider, than  to  local opportunists and entrepreneurs  who are just getting on with their lives. But this kind of laisser faire economics is so accurately played out before me this morning, when a man suddenly crouches down at a road junction and using a bucket of rubble, begins to fill up and level off the pot-holes. Every now and then he stops traffic to put out his hands for what he feels  he is owed for offering a service that the  government has clearly failed to deliver. This act I’m told,  would be repeated at various busy road- junctions in the city, without ever seeing the actual completion of the job in question! (I would not be surprised if the same bricks are removed from the holes each time, and the bucket reloaded   for the encore)

I've taken pictures (to be added later) of some ostentatious houses built alongside the dilapidated roads. There are even more affluent cul-de-sacs, that we later stumble across, in this and the neighboring suburb, which look  like embassies typified by security guards manning electric gates (everyone has electric gates!), high brick walls, topped with masses of barbed wire, tennis courts, outdoor swimming pools, thatched gazebos,  servants quarters, orchards and  still an acre of land to spare, inhabited by those who, like J and T have either made it or survived in the new Zimbabwe. There’s definitely wealth and money here.

Incongruous  non-indigenous palm trees are popular.

Everyone has an electric gate!

My sister in law and I end our power walk, relieved not to have sprained any ankles whilst trying to negotiate the unfriendly road surface. Fresh filtered coffee is served in familiar modern western style at a Greek cafe, although we resist the temptation to replenish ourselves with large tall triple chocolate and carrot cakes cut into gargantuan slices, in favor of joining our hosts in their 12 bed-roomed home with landscaped garden, complete with fashionable but incongruous , non-indigenous palm trees. We promised ourselves that we would offset our braai frenzy with a healthy breakfast of cold  fruit salad  and were not disappointed  with the exotic variety on offer  ( sliced  pawpaw, guava, Mexican apple, lychee and mango)...certainly much more befitting of the smoldering mid-morning heat!  

9th Dec: Touchdown

Back To Southern Africa After An 18 Year Hiatus



Sunday 9th Dec.11.00am

You know you've arrived in South Africa when you discover that one of your suitcases is missing and after politely but assertively launching your complaint, the Afrikaans baggage retrieval manager says casually  "Doen't wurry seur. Ert  happens all the tarm. We'll just send forert" taking your details with half open eyes and matching pace ....Africa time has well and truly set in.

Simmering, we just managed to squeeze the last of our excessive luggage into the boot of our ride, and set off, each passenger with a sizable bag on their lap, only to find that the boot kept flapping wide open on the motorway. The driver stopped at the dusty roadside unperturbed, and dug out a length of wire from the ground to 'borpa' the boot shut with. As I watched the dazzling heat haze shimmering in the distance, I was overcome by the dawning realisation that we were only an Oliver Mtukudzi tune, a mattress tied to the car roof and cage full of chickens short of the perfect picture of Africa!

Passing through a stretch of  "informal settlements', set on dusty sandstone ( they comprise mostly of tin/ zinc and plastic shacks with the odd small bricks and mortar contraption), I am reminded of the film District 9, an allegorical satire of  apartheid, but I presently draw parallels with the plight of economic migrants. The rest of the route is hilly, green and beautiful. A noticeable contrast.

2.00pm that day; Outdoor swimming for the kids on an idyllic island in the weekend home- boat owning community where we will be renting a cottage near my brother's in-laws.

8.00pm The braai is served. See pics for the perfect Southern African cuisine. Cooked by my sister-in-laws mum. 

Despite turning in at midnight, we would have to set off at 4.00am and face the ugly giant that is Beitbridge boarder, to begin our Zimbabwean escapade. 

Themes for my African Odyssey

When I waved goodbye to my slightly truculent husband ( he was facing the prospect of nearly two weeks of lone parenting in temperatures of -5 deg C on the home front) I was inwardly beaming in anticipation of bright sunny skies and the heat of the African sun! Joining my younger brother ( plus wife G and two young kids) on board the plane, I realised that finally I would be able to indulge my newly found passion for writing.

The theme for my trip to Zimbabwe was Closure...for three main reasons: I had not managed to attend my mother's funeral, so the laying down of her grave stone in Harare, gave my younger brother LG and I another opportunity to gather extended family for a memorial service ,  in the city of our birth.
Secondly, I wanted to return back to face up to my ailing motherland,  left behind for a new life here in Britain, all those years ago. Compelled not only by nostalgia but by the need to verify first hand, some of the negative press and mixed messages I'd been drip fed about Zimbabwe. By gauging the mood of the people who had stuck it out, I hoped to pick up clues about the future prospects of Africa's forgotten food basket which by all accounts now lies empty.
Lastly, there were questions about my own sense of identity that were still unanswered at this 'tender' age of 43...

The Capetown trip (a first for me) was more of an afterthought , for which I had to extend my trip by 5 days (Hubby understandably seething at this point). I couldn't possibly turn down the kind invitation of my older brother, N, now resident there! It was birthday boy LG who decided that this was where our holiday would begin in earnest . Hey wenna (You know it) !
So blessed with excellent tour guides (relatives) and equipped with an inherent sense of adventure as well as a palpable connection to this culture, we set out to celebrate little brother's 40th birthday in style!

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Over the next few days and weeks I will be furnishing you with the details of my travels. It is envisaged that this blog will develop into a regular and delightful feature covering  my cost effective yet  inspiring trips, focusing on people, attitudes and culture.  I hope you find my observations to be witty, informative, and thought provoking. Thank-you for your support and constructive comments.