Cape Maclear, Malawi, July 18
Once again I find myself a bit
behind on my blog posting, but maybe a delay of a couple of weeks helps give me
added perspective on a place. Or maybe
I’m just a bit disorganized. Whatever
the case, it’s been two weeks since we left Zimbabwe, and it’s high time that I
tried to set down on paper (or the screen?) some of my impressions of that
beautiful, slightly tragic country.
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Terri and Thabbeth, twin towers of humanitarian work
|
Our introduction to Zimbabwe on
Tuesday, June 14
th was not the most positive. The Beitbridge border crossing from South
Africa, the only crossing point between the two countries, is a zoo, with
thousands of Zimbabweans (and a tiny handful of South Africans and other
nationals) thronging the immigrations and customs queues. It took over an hour of lining up to get our
exit stamps from South Africa, with the lines twice being shut down arbitrarily
and everyone rushing en masse to a new place to line up again. Almost everyone in our line was Zimbabwean,
many of them either cross-border traders or people working in South Africa, and
they knew the ropes intimately: where
the next queue would open up (across the parking lot in a small container
converted to an immigration shed), how to slide past others discreetly to get
closer to the front of the queue, how the queue would suddenly divide into
three indistinguishable files and which one to join. The South African immigration officials were
off-handedly rude to the Zimbabweans, shouting at them and ignoring them in equal
measure. When we finally got through to
the Zimbabwean side, we had would-be fixers pestering us, and a tiny queue of
perhaps nine people waiting for their TIP (Temporary Import Permit) to bring a
vehicle into Zimbabwe took almost an hour and a half. It was an expensive border to cross, with my
visa as a Canadian costing US$ 75, and the car costing $64 for road tolls,
third-party insurance and the cost of the permit itself. It was almost two o’clock by the time we got
rolling up the road to Bulawayo, three hours after we had first parked on the
South African side, and we were keen to get to Bulawayo before dark.
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Thabbeth and her Sethule Trust team
|
The road ran through a desolate
hot, dusty Lowveld that looked almost uninhabited and uninhabitable. As we drove along on smooth tarmac, we slowly
and imperceptibly started to climb. We
ran into our first few Zimbabwean traffic police checkpoints and made it
through without paying any fines, despite the fearsome reputation that these
cops have for finding faults and issuing fines.
The cops were polite, welcoming and completely professional, and having
shown our fire extinguishers, breakdown warning triangles, high-visibility
vests and the TIP a few times, we were always waved through. As we approached Bulawayo, at around 1400
metres above sea level, the countryside began to look a bit more prosperous and
lived-in. The sun set not long before we
got to the southern edge of Zimbabwe’s second city, and we crawled in in the
dark, Terri navigating us in expertly to our destination despite the best
efforts of our car GPS to claim ignorance of Bulawayo street names.
A Civilized Interlude in Bulawayo
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| A preschool helped by my former school LAS |
Our destination was the home of a
former colleague of mine from Leysin American School. Thabbeth is a black Zimbabwean nurse who
married an English doctor, Michael. They
lived and worked for nearly twenty years in Bulawayo before the deteriorating
economic and political situation drove them to emigrate to Switzerland a decade
ago. Terri also knew Thabbeth from
Leysin, as they both run charitable projects in Africa and had compared notes a
few times. Thabbeth’s outfit, Sethule
Trust, works with orphans and vulnerable children in and around Bulawayo,
trying to improve their educational prospects.
Terri had long been curious to see Thabbeth’s projects in action, and
since we knew that Thabbeth was going to be in Zimbabwe during the LAS school
holidays, we had planned for several months to coincide with her in
Bulawayo. When we finally found her
house in the southern suburbs, it proved to be a palatial building in a huge
tract of land, surrounded by several outbuildings and cottages, one of which
was reserved for us. We had a joyful
reunion with Thabbeth, ate and then collapsed into bed, tired from a long day
of driving.
We spent the next three days in
and around Bulawayo.
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Recess time!
|
On Wednesday, we
accompanied Thabbeth and various staff members of Sethule on visits to a couple
of rural elementary schools at which they were considering starting projects to
help develop computer skills. The first
school was in pretty bad shape, with its classroom buildings starting to
crumble as termites ate their way through the wood of the roof structure, but
its headmistress seemed to be a well-organized woman who runs a tight
ship. The classrooms we visited seemed
to be teaching quite advanced topics, and the students seemed fairly motivated
to learn. There were quite a lot of
students who looked absolutely destitute, and I asked the headmistress what
they and their parents were doing out in the middle of semi-arid nowhere; what
economic basis was there for living out there?
The answer was that until 2002, a huge commercial farm had been in
operation here, run by a white Zimbabwean farmer who had employed hundreds of
local black farmhands.
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| Me helping instill good handwashing hygiene among the kids |
Then the farm was
nationalized and taken over by the government, and the new owners, politically
connected ZANU-PF supporters, had not tried to run the farm commercially,
resulting in all the workers losing their jobs and being thrown into complete
poverty. This was something to
contemplate as we went to another school, this one near a still-functioning
commercial farm. The students seemed far
better dressed here, while the school buildings were much newer and better
maintained, apparently thanks to donations from local big farmers. A couple of my former LAS colleagues who had
accompanied an LAS student trip to Zimbabwe a couple of years earlier were
sponsoring three children at this school and we said hello to them, while
looking at some of the (quite good) poetry that they had produced.
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| Me at one of Sethule's preschools |
We had a tour around downtown
Bulawayo in the afternoon, visiting the city art gallery where a series of
young resident artists were producing both typical folk-influenced art and more
contemporary works. We had lunch at a
trendy café, and then looked at some more art before going to a concert. It was the opening concert of the Bulawayo
International Music Festival, and featured a mix of high school orchestras and
choirs, a gospel group and two energetic African dance troupes. The music was good, but what was more
striking was just the normality of it all—young musicians, both black and
white, playing music and singing as would happen anywhere in the world, far
removed from the poisonous politics of President Mugabe and the imminent
economic meltdown. It seemed a hopeful,
positive sign.
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| Callisto, Beke, the pastor and I posing beside Stanley in the Matopos |
The next day we accompanied
Thabbeth out to another pre-school, the Hope Sethule pre-school, located right
on the edge of the Bulawayo suburbs. LAS
students had been there a few months before on a service trip, working on
playground equipment and painting. It
was good to see the results of this fund-raising and effort. Thabbeth’s Sethule trip for LAS students and
Terri’s Zambian trip for Kumon students are so similar in so many ways that it
was a bit eerie. Thabbeth had a couple
of young Zimbabwean university graduates working for her, teaching at the
pre-school; they were looking for higher-paying jobs more related to their
studies, but with the dire economic situation in the country, they were glad to
pick up any job at all. The pre-school
kids were having fun playing outdoors, eating their nshima (corn meal mush;
these tiny children could pack away huge amounts of the stuff!) and singing
songs in English. I found the names of
the students great: Proffesor (spelled
that way), Dogood and Precious were not atypical. One little boy, the most recent addition to
the class, took a shine to me and sat on my knee during the singing before
telling me a long story in Ndbele that apparently involved him being attacked
by a huge cow. It was the first time he
had really interacted with anyone since arriving in the class, and it was
strangely touching, especially given the terrified reaction that most children
have to meeting me!
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| Terri at the wheel of Stanley in the Matopo Hills |
That afternoon Terri and I
unfolded our Giant Expressway bikes and rode the 10 km into downtown
Bulawayo. It was an easy ride, and the
downtown core was actually pleasant to cycle in, free of the insane traffic,
noise and menace of many African cities.
We bought Zimbabwean SIM cards and got a new, longer seat post for my
bike from Mike’s Bikes, run by a Zimbabwean lookalike and sound-alike of
Farzan, the legendary bike mechanic of Petrie’s Cycles in Thunder Bay, an
imposing figure in my youthful cycling experiences.
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| Wonderful giraffe painting at Nswatugi Cave |
Matopo Hills Loveliness
On Friday the 17
th we
went into town to buy a few supplies, and then in the afternoon we drove out of
Bulawayo towards the Matopo Hills, the pretty area southwest of town that is a
popular weekend retreat for Bulawayans as well as being a UNESCO World Heritage
Site for its prehistoric San rock paintings.
Thabbeth’s family comes from this area, and she and her husband had
built a weekend home there years ago. We
stayed there for the next couple of nights, enjoying the isolated country
atmosphere, going running through the impressive landscape of granite outcrops
and dry bush and visiting another Sethule Trust project, a pre-school based at
the local Presbyterian church which Thabbeth’s family had been instrumental in
building. We also visited the nearby
garden in which fresh vegetables were grown to feed to the students in the
various Sethule schools in the area.
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| A year's worth of maize for Beke's family |
We
visited the family home of Beke, one of Thabbeth’s employees, a gifted mechanic
who had fixed all the small, niggling things that had been going wrong with
Stanley while we were staying in Bulawayo.
The most important thing that he fixed was the solar panels, which had
stopped charging a couple of weeks earlier.
He located the problem (a loose connection on the roof) and fixed
it. He also found some blown fuses in
our wiring and got our gas stove working again.
His family house was really a family compound, a neat enclosure full of
several round houses (rondavels). His
wife had produced a bumper crop of corn despite the drought that is plaguing
Southern Africa, and he had used his income from working for Thabbeth to buy a
good solar charging system for the house that allowed them to be completely off
the electrical grid.
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| Terri and I with Beke and his family in the Matopos |
The Matopos are
full of similar compounds, swept spotlessly clean and built solidly, evidence of a rural prosperity and pride in
the Ndebele heritage that seems to typify the Bulawayo area.
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| San painting of a kudu at Nswatugi cave |
It was a magical couple of days,
especially on Sunday morning as we drove to the isolated Nswatugi Cave to see
the San paintings there. We drove
through a gnarled and timeless-feeling landscape along a track that steadily
deteriorated until we abandoned Stanley at the foot of a steep rocky slope and
walked the final few hundred metres.
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| My not-nearly-so-wonderful sketches of the Nswatugi art |
The
cave was impressively situated in a big rock outcrop patrolled by fat rock
hyraxes who fled on our approach. There
was nobody at the cave, not even a caretaker, and we had the site to ourselves
for an hour as we photographed and sketched the paintings, created in red ochre
sometime between 20,000 and 2000 years ago, presumably by San hunter
gatherers. The animals were wonderfully
lifelike and alive, painted with exquisite accuracy, particularly the kudu and
the giraffes. This was in such stark
contrast to the strangely elongated stick figures used to depict humans that
scholars have long debated what the meaning is.
One of the most popular hypotheses is that the human figures represent a
state of dance-induced trance. We loved
the hour spent in the cave: the views
out over the Matopos, the isolation, the beautiful bush. Only as we were leaving did another pair of
tourists appear, a pair of young Canadian women who had hiked for two hours
from park headquarters to arrive there.
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A year's worth of maize for Beke's family
|
Prehistoric Rocks: Khami and Great Zimbabwe
We drove out of the Matopos, into
the leafy southern suburbs of Bulawayo and right out again, headed for another
World Heritage site, the ruins of Khami.
We arrived on the second try, having been led into the middle of nowhere
by our temperamental GPS system on the first attempt. Khami is a wonderful site, evocative of
bygone glory and almost completely deserted.
We paid our entrance fee and wandered around for a couple of hours, past
tall stone-enclosed platforms that top some of the hills. The masonry of the walls is wonderful, very
accurate and decorative. Khami was the
capital of one of the successor kingdoms to Great Zimbabwe, and it reached its
zenith in the 1500s and 1600s. One of
the stone platforms features a stone cross on its upper surface, presumably a
reminder of a long-vanished Portuguese influence on the area. I liked the historic atmosphere so much that
I was ecstatic to find that we could camp at the site. We set up Stanley in a picnic area under a
canopy of tall trees and watched the sunset from atop one of the stone
platforms, drinking wine while I played guitar.
Then, as we cooked up steaks on a charcoal grill, the full moon rose
over the ruins, making for a truly unforgettable evening. That day, with its varied and various
historical and artistic overtones, was one of my favourites of the trip. Africa is not often visited for its historic
ruins, but Zimbabwe has a lot of impressive history to see. I wrote a couple of haiku about the day:
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Intricate stonework at Khami
|
Prehistoric
art
Giraffes
and kudu canter
In
ochre outlines
Stones
glow russet tones
History’s
glowing embers
Khami
afternoon
In both Nswatugi and Khami, I was
amazed at the utter lack of tourists at two of the top sights for tourists to
see in the entire country. Foreign
tourism into Zimbabwe is almost entirely extinct, which is a pity given how
much the country has to offer visitors.
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| Another idyllic campsite at Khami |
We slept well under the trees,
and the next morning we woke up to a rich chorus of birdsong. We spotted bearded woodpeckers, a gabar
goshawk and lots of noisy Egyptian geese.
After a breakfast of soft-boiled eggs, we packed up and were driving
east by 9:15. After a stopoff in
Bulawayo to buy groceries and return some books to Thabbeth’s house, we set off
towards our next stop, Great Zimbabwe.
It was a long drive east, and we arrived just as dusk was falling. There was little traffic on the road, and the
towns we passed through seemed somehow scruffier and less prosperous than Bulawayo.
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| Sunset tunes at Khami |
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Cross platform at Khami: Portuguese work?
|
We set ourselves up in the site campsite,
plugged in our fan heater and our electric oven and kept ourselves warm on the
inside with some delicious lasagne that Terri whipped up in the oven, and warm
on the outside with the fan heater going all night to counteract the distinct
chill in the air.
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| Great Zimbabwe |
We spent the next day at Great
Zimbabwe, starting off the day with some freshly baked scones that Terri
whipped up using our (almost) new oven.
Great Zimbabwe was the capital of a powerful Shona kingdom from the 11
th
to the 15
th century, between the time of the Mapungubwe kingdom and
the Khami kingdom. The ruins are similar
to those of Khami in terms of their stonework, but they are much, much larger
in scale. We walked up to the Hill
Enclosure, 80 metres above the campground, and spent a happy hour exploring the
intricate passageways and staircases linking together the various
enclosures.
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| Terri and the Great Enclosure at Great Zimbabwe |
After a brief visit to the
museum, we walked around the Great Enclosure, a truly impressive feat of
stonemasonry consisting of a towering outer wall and dozens of smaller family
enclosures inside it. The colours of the
stone, the overarching trees and the surrounding stony landscape were
wonderful, completely redolent of long-lost history. It was easy to spend the day there, and it
made a pleasant setting for a long afternoon jog. Once again, the utter lack of foreign
tourists was striking; we saw only one other group, a family of 4. That evening it was much warmer than the day
before and we sat out eating leftover lasagne under the just-past-full moon
before retiring into our cozy sleeping quarters and comfortable bed where I
composed a haiku on that day’s exploration:
History’s shadows
On Great Zimbabwe’s stonework:
So fades all glory.
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| Stanley on the road to Chimanimani |
Chimanimani: Montane Beauty
The meaning of the warmer air of
the previous evening became clear in the morning when we woke up to rain! Sort of ironic, given that Zimbabwe is in the
grip of an El Nino-powered drought.
Terri went back to bed briefly to wait out the rain. We left around 9 and drove into nearby Masvingo
to do some grocery shopping. Masvingo
seemed poorer and grittier than Bulawayo, and the Pick’n’Pay parking lot
boasted several beggars who accosted us in turn. We eventually drove off and dropped, slowly
and imperceptibly, to a mere 480 metres above sea level where we crossed the
Save River on a giant suspension bridge.
From there we climbed steadily up, up and up through pine plantations
that reminded me of the Sabie area, before dropping down again to the town of
Chimanimani, built around a big sawmill.
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| Sums it up; I love the ad below |
I spent much of the drive reading stories from the Zimbabwe Daily News
aloud to Terri about the apocalyptic bad news enveloping every aspect of life
in Zimbabwe.
We stopped in Chimanimani town
to buy our park permits (we had been told erroneously that this had to be done
at the park headquarters in town; in fact you can pay just as easily at the
small ranger station at the foot of the mountain) before setting off on the
final 15 km to the mountain’s base camp.
It was a spectacular drive along a slightly hair-raising track, and we
pulled into the campsite not long before dark.
It was the night before Terri’s birthday and (since we were supposed to
be hiking the next day), I prepared a special birthday celebration that night
with bubbly wine, smoked salmon pate and even a (slightly burnt) chocolate cake
cooked over the gas stove with the aid of an “outback oven”. It all went well, with a beautiful sunset
thrown in, until the heavens opened and it started raining on me as I barbecued
some steaks. We didn’t let the rain
dampen our enthusiasm, though, and it was a pleasant evening in the campsite.
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Terri's birthday celebration in Chimanimani National Park
|
Thursday was a bit of a
washout, as it rained repeatedly, putting paid to our plans to go hiking. We sat around reading, playing guitar and
drinking tea, hoping for a window of clear weather, but it never showed
up. We went out for a brief walk in the
afternoon but managed to get rained on and lost, so we turned back to eat pasta
carbonara instead.
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| Zimbabwe's flag flies at Chimanimani Base Camp |
The next day, Friday June 24
th,
dawned dry and clear, so we got up, packed up and set off uphill into the
Chimanimani National Park, a place that had been on my travelling radar since
my sisters both hiked here two decades ago.
We planned to stay overnight in one of the many caves that dot the
landscape, so we didn’t even bring a tent, although we did bring lots of food,
sleeping bags and mattresses. It was a
steep and sweaty direct ascent up Bailey’s Folly trail, starting at 1200
metres’ elevation in camp and ending atop a small plateau at about 1800
metres. We wandered along the plateau,
past beautiful eroded white boulders made of some sort of quartzite, to the hut
that is perched above the interior basin at the foot of the highest peaks. We stopped there to eat some peanuts and
cookies before descending to the basin in search of our cave, the Red Wall
cave.
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| Funky rocks, Chimanimani |
We wandered along, following a
rough sketch map and some verbal directions, and never found the cave despite a
good hour of searching. We did see the
squalid tin hut inhabited by relays of armed park rangers protecting the park
from the depredations of hordes of illegal gold miners from the Mozambican side
of the border (the park straddles the international boundary), and lots of
pretty grassland and rocks, but there was no sign of a cave we could sleep in,
so we retreated back to the hut. We
rolled out our sleeping mats in one of the four rooms of the hut and settled
down to reheat some leftover lentil stew that filled our hungry bellies nicely. As we sat watching the late afternoon light
turn the peaks redder and redder, two more hikers appeared. Daniel and Callie, a pair of American rock
climbers, had been hanging out in the hut for a week, going out every day to go
bouldering. We had a long and
interesting conversation with them about their travels; Callie in particular
had some good stories from working in Antarctica, climbing in Alaska and
cycling in Central Asia.
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Afternoon light in Chimanimani National Park
|
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| Wonderful Chimanimani flower: possibly a Leucospermum species? |
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| Terri hiking in Chimanimani |
The next morning we said our
goodbyes to Callie and Daniel and headed back down the mountain, this time on a
longer route along the main river that drains the park. We stopped for a swim at lovely Digby Falls,
an oasis of great beauty amidst the wild rocky slopes. We continued downstream for a couple of
hours, hoping that our pseudo-map would be more useful than it had been the day
before. The scenery was fabulous: alternating river rapids and placid pools,
with towering rock faces above and scattered forest and wildflowers. Eventually we turned away from the river and
up a small tributary valley, full of flowers and birds and fed by some
waterfalls high up above us. Our final
trudge out to the base camp along the Banana Grove trail was a comedy of
navigational errors compounded by a lack of trail maintenance and signs; we
walked through grass thickets taller than us, hoping that we were following the
correct barely perceptible indentation in the vegetation. Terri was quite annoyed by the time we got
down at the lack of useful trail markers.
A good shower and a tasty steak dinner soothed her choler, however, and
we had a pleasant evening in base camp.
 |
Terri descending out of the Chimanimani range
|
As we packed up to leave the next
day, Daniel and Callie appeared; Daniel’s vehicle was parked there and they
were going to drive into town to buy more groceries to take up the mountain
again. We had a good chat with them
before we drove off, heading north towards Nyangani national park. The scenery was wonderful, an autumnal sea of
gold and copper reminiscent of fall colours in Switzerland.
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| Mutarazi Falls |
Adventures in Nyangani
We passed through Mutare, Zimbabwe’s third
city, where we bought groceries and left Stanley parked on some dodgy streets
watched over by three even dodgier-looking youth. We bought a new speaker cable to link my iPod
to Stanley’s speakers, and set off north listening to podcasts. Following our GPS and directions from a local
shop, we turned off the main road in search of Muturazi Falls, the highest
waterfalls in the country. It was an
execrable 4WD track that slowly deteriorated until it became essentially
undriveable. We turned around and headed
back towards the main road, giving up on the falls, until we passed a sign and
a turnoff for the falls. We decided to
give it another try and ended up at the parking lot for the falls just at
sunset. We didn’t want to pay the steep
US$10 admission for just a few minutes of visibility, so we turned around
towards Far and Wide, a lodge we had passed a few kilometres earlier. They were closed, but we got some drinking
water from them and found a place to camp for free beside the Honde Valley Viewpoint. It proved to be a perfect spot to camp, right
on the edge of a huge escarpment, and we slept well after a splendid meal of
Asian-style pork, veggies and rice.
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| A view into the Honde Valley from Mutarazi Falls |
We woke up the next morning to
tremendous views over the escarpment down into the lowlands of the Honde
Valley. We walked to Muturazi Falls, a
couple of kilometres further along the escarpment, and had great views; sadly
the falls face directly south, so they are never in direct sunlight, at least
not in the winter months. Despite their
height and isolation, the two falls (there are actually two of them, a few
hundred metres apart) are difficult to capture photographically since they are
always in shadow. The setting is
magnificent, and the fact that (once again) we were the only tourists around
added to the feeling of being at the ends of the earth. We admired the falls, the dense primary
forest and the birds before heading back to the car; sadly, the ticket seller,
who had been absent on our arrival, had gotten to work while we were at the
falls, and collared us for US$10 each on our return trip. Terri quizzed him and he said that he hadn’t
been paid his salary for 3 months, a common story among all government
employees in the country this year.
When we got back to Stanley, we
decided that we might as well use the admission ticket to see more of Nyangani
Park. We crawled back down the awful
track to the main highway, then turned off again soon into another section of
the national park. Again we were the
only tourists in the entire campground, and had the place to ourselves. We had electric power and ran our fan heater,
but sadly the power went out that evening, the coldest night of our trip. We awoke to frost on the ground and -1.5
degrees on our thermometer.
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Terri and Xavier at Domboshawa
|
Luckily for us, it warmed up
quickly, and we set off on our bicycles to the Chawomera fort ruins. It was a rough track, so rough that the
previous day we had tried to drive it in Stanley and had quickly turned
back. The ruins were farther away than
we had been told, and we had almost given up hope when we finally saw a sign
pointing to an unobtrusive hilltop beside the road. The fort ruins were pretty tiny, but there
was a small enclosure wall and some “pit structures” just below the fort that
apparently had something to do with slavery.
It was an isolated, atmospheric spot and we enjoyed the excuse to go for
a bike ride before breakfast in some pretty scenery. On the horizon we could see the flat-topped
bulk of Mt. Nyanga, the highest peak in the country, but apparently the park
was enforcing a rule that would-be climbers need to take a guide (at $5 an
hour) to attempt the easy walk to the summit, so we weren’t interested. We returned to camp, ate a late breakfast and
then drove towards Harare.
Another Civilized Interlude in Harare
 |
| Domboshawa rhinoceros painting |
It wasn’t far from Nyangani to
the capital, but it took us a long time because finally our luck with
Zimbabwean traffic police completely ran out.
From about 100 km out of Harare, we were stopped at least 10 times by
police who were aggressive, rude and determined to find something to fine us
for. We paid $20 because our light
illuminating the license plate wasn’t working (this was during the day!) and
another $10 for our reverse lights not working.
Another police roadblock caught us a second time for the reverse lights,
but fortunately you can’t be fined twice on the same day for the same offense
so we waved our receipt from the first fine and got away. We also had a patently bogus Mozambique-style
“speeding” shakedown with a traffic cop waving a radar gun reading 81 km/h at
us. Since we had just left a
construction zone, we weren’t going any faster than about 40 km/h, so we stood
our ground and eventually the cops gave up.
We knew that the police were under pressure to collect enough fines to
enable their salaries to be paid that month, so they were out in force all over
the roads.
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| Bruce and his wonderful papier mache heads |
We eventually made it into town
and traversed Harare’s confusing maze of streets to the eastern suburb where my
friend Bruce lives in great style in a big house on a huge piece of land. We were let in by the gardener, did some
much-needed laundry and awaited Bruce’s arrival from a work trip to
Bulawayo. We sat up chatting over wine
until late, then turned in.
 |
| Bruce, Xavier and me in Harare |
Our three days in Harare were a
wonderful respite from life on the road.
We slept late, did yoga in the garden, admired the guineafowl that ran
comically around the grounds, went out to dinner and drinks with Bruce at
various local nightspots, attempted to get Stanley’s faults fixed (we got the
license plate light fixed, but the reverse lights required a switch that was
not to be found anywhere in Harare). We
had another run-in with traffic cops for a bogus rolling-stop violation that we
eventually argued and wheedled our way out of.
We admired Bruce’s wonderfully distinctive paintings and masks, and went
out to see more contemporary Zimbabwean art and more folk-inspired tourist
art. We bonded with Xavier, the
indomitable Chihuahua who rules Bruce’s house, and took him out to the
impressive San rock art site of Domboshawa, which was similar in skill to the
Nswatugi paintings, but with different animals (notably white rhinos). We also rode our bikes to the Zimbabwe Parks
authority and managed to negotiate a booking for two nights of camping in Mana
Pools National Park; the initial quote was a crazy US$115 a night just for
camping fees, but eventually the capable ladies running the booking office
found us a stand-by site for US$44, still steep but a lot more affordable.
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Wonderful Domboshawa lizard
|
Mana Pools: A Zimbabwean Eden
It was hard to tear ourselves
away from the creature comforts of life at Bruce’s, but on Saturday, July 2nd
we got up early and drove away at 7 am, hoping to escape the snares of the
traffic police. Amazingly, we had no
encounters with police all day; perhaps having made their ticket quotas for
June at the end of the month, they were lying low at the beginning of
July. Or maybe they had been told to
take it easy after no less a figure than the Speaker of Parliament complained
publicly about the depredations of the traffic police on ordinary Zimbabwean
drivers. At any rate, we drove easily
and quickly on nearly-deserted early morning roads towards the Zambian
border. At Morangora village we stopped
and did paperwork for our park stay, then turned off onto the worst road of the
trip so far, a dirt track so completely corrugated that it’s impossible to
drive on it without rattling everything loose on your car and on your
body. When we stopped at the park gate
to sign in, we found that one front indicator had rattled loose and was hanging
on by its wire, while an entire front fender panel had shaken loose and out of
position. Worse, our battery had shaken
itself loose and one of its leads had come off, so that when we went to restart
the engine, there was no electrical power at all. Luckily that was easy to fix, but it was a
reminder of how hard these horrible washboard tracks can be to vehicle
longevity.
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Modern Zimbabwean art portraying elephant poaching
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Luckily Mana Pools was worth the
pain of getting there. Our campsite was
right on the Zambezi River, staring out across the river at Zambia. The sunsets and sunrises over the river were
exquisitely beautiful, and the campsite was quiet, dark and full of the noises
of nearby animals. Mana Pools is famous
for allowing tourists to walk around alone among the animals (although last
year they introduced an extra US$15 a day “walking permit”; this doesn’t seem
to be enforced at all, so if we were ever to go back, I wouldn’t buy the
“walking permit” and would take my
chances with the rangers. Terri and I
spent the next day, our last full day in Zimbabwe, walking around the park,
checking out the impalas, warthogs, hippos, crocodiles and abundant
birdlife. We heard lions without meeting
any (fortunately), but saw no sign of cheetahs and leopards. We saw a few elephants and kept a prudent
distance from them. The highlights for
me were the pools themselves, isolated oxbow lakes that are absolutely bursting
with hippos and crocodiles. It was a
memorable, slightly nerve-wracking day that ended, once again, with a fiery
sunset over the Zambezi.
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| Gnarled old tree trunk at Mana Pools |
On Monday July 4
th we
drove back out over the horrible bone-jarring track to the main road and turned
right towards the border. Zimbabwe had a
final sting in its tail for us as the Zimbabwean and Zambian customs officials
contrived to shake us down for an extra US$ 40 in bribes since we didn’t have a
police clearance letter from South Africa stating that the car wasn’t
stolen. It was an unpleasant way to
leave the country, but somehow appropriate, given the state of the country.
Final Thoughts on Zimbabwe
I really enjoyed Zimbabwe. I found the people that I met and conversed
with to be well-informed, well-educated and amazingly stoic in their outlook
despite living in a train wreck of a political and economic system. Zimbabwe is always full of reminders of how
the country once was, a thriving agricultural and industrial powerhouse that
has slowly been ground down by Robert Mugabe’s autocratic 36-year rule. While we were there, the cash shortages that
have plagued the country for months became really acute, with lineups of over
100 people snaking along the block outside every ATM we saw, as people queue to
withdraw the pitifully small amount they are permitted every week. The country’s dollarization in 2008 helped
end the incredible hyperinflation that destroyed the Zimbabwe dollar, but it has
had the effect of pegging Zimbabwean prices to a far higher price than any of
its neighbouring countries and competitors, particularly South Africa. Zimbabwe’s industries and farms just can’t
compete on price with South Africa, Botswana or anywhere else. The country’s industries are mostly idle;
Bulawayo’s factory belt is a ghost town, and all the workers in the Matopo
Hills who used to work in those factories are back home, unemployed and trying
to eke out a subsistence living on their farms.
The once-booming commercial farm sector is almost extinct thanks to
populist but disastrous land-redistribution schemes that gave the land to rich
ZANU-PF politicians who were uninterested in farming. The country’s balance of payments is abysmal,
with imports more than double exports this year. The economy is crumbling, and a US embassy
political official I spoke to thought that the economy would completely grind
to a halt by October.
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Fish eagle at Mana Pools
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Essentially everyone is waiting
for President Mugabe to die; at 92, he hasn’t got too many years left. The problem is that nobody knows who will
succeed him. Will it be one of his two
vice-presidents, or will it be his young and ruthlessly ambitious second wife
Grace? Zimbabweans have managed to
survive this long by staying out of overt opposition to Mugabe, but there are
signs that this year will be different.
An online anti-Mugabe rant by a pastor, Evan Mawarire, went viral on
social media and spawned the #thisflag movement that is pushing for Mugabe’s
removal from office. Not long after we
passed through Beitbridge, a government attempt suddenly to stop most imports
across that border led to a serious riot in which cross-border traders went
berserk and threatened to kill the chief customs officer.
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| Burnished copper tones on the hippo-filled Zambezi at Mana Pools |
Two days after we left Zimbabwe, a
stay-at-home protest across the country led some to predict the imminent demise
of the Mugabe government. It hasn’t
happened yet, and it may not happen, but Zimbabwe certainly feels like a
country on the brink of a meltdown. Stay
tuned to see how it all turns out. In
the meantime, by all means visit the country; the long-suffering people of
Zimbabwe need all the support they can get! It must be said, though, that Zimbabwe's use of the US dollar makes it significantly more expensive than neighbouring countries, so don't spend too, too long here unless your wallet needs to be lightened!
Next post I will describe the
Zambia/Malawi leg of the trip, which is still going on as I write. With luck I will be able to bring the blog
completely up to date!
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| Sunset over the Zambezi at Mana Pools |
