Dateline Harare: This is not the Africa I came to visit, but probably where I could have the most impact.
The Sunday drive was all of that and more. It takes two hours to reach the border crossing at Churundu. The village sits on a ridge overlooking the Zambezi River. On the way we had to dodge numerous pot-holes, some large enough to swallow a small car. Any repairs made to the road were completely insufficient, usually nothing more than bricks thrown into the hole. The pavement on the national roads in Zambia is very thin, it seems to be slightly more than an inch in thickness. The border crossing was almost painless, a lot of nodding and smiles to comments in an English I could not understand. Brian was very familiar with the process and we were able to get through in less than an hour. The only admonishment: “Don’t take any pictures until we are well clear of the Zim border crossing.” This was the same advice listed in the US DoS website, so I nodded like a seasoned covert operator.
Once into Zimbabwe, the highway passes through a park that spans the valley floor below the escarpment. There were plenty of elephant sign, and many Baobab’s, but no actually animal sightings. The Baobab’s are very impressive, the wood is soft and pulpy, so the trees grow very thick but short. The Baobab’s are of little use, the wood is just too soft. The average tree is larger than a sequoia in girth, but only 50 ft high. The largest was not much taller, but here’s a picture; the large scars are from the elephants, who sometimes dine on the bark, as they do with many trees.
The branch above me is a full 9 ft thick!
The drive takes another five hours, but in Zimbabwe the roads are much better. In fact there are obvious signs of real repairs. Once past the escarpment the terrain starts to resemble the land of my family: south central Missouri. There are rolling hills, towns along the highway, the same style of fencing (barbed wire with tree limbs interspersed with iron bars) and even the dirt roads have a similar consistency, the ones here in Africa are a bit dustier and have a redder hue. But Missouri has no palm trees, and Zimbabwe has no Granny Jessie, or Mugabe would have been gone long ago. Even some of the towns resemble Urbana (This will only mean something to a few of you). So yeah, the drive is very interesting to me on a personal level. I’m already forming an attachment to a country that a few hours ago I was cautious to even enter.
Our first stop is the home of Brian’s brother, Gareth. Gareth has been in logistics for some time and has been a font of information for Brian and WBR as we attempt to move into Harare. He has two teenage kids, a boy about to start college and a girl still finishing high school. They have a very nice home with yard and garden, Gareth’s wife serves custard pie and tea. It’s hard not to devour the entire offering after a day on the road. As I come to find out the rest of the week, Gareth’s household resembles many of the middle-income business owners in Africa. The grounds are well kept by a gardener; the interior is cleaned daily by a maid; and often there is additional help to look after younger kids or prepare food. In the states, this number of servants in the home is a sign of much greater wealth. Here it is more a sign of how little labor costs. This home and a few others I am able to visit, are modestly furnished and not grand in any proportion – they are simply comfortable and the people extremely warm and friendly. I find each occasion to be extremely charming. I’m not sure whether Brian is blessed with the best group of friends a man could imagine, or if southern Africa hosts the nicest people on earth.
The conversation at Gareth's centers around the dismal decay of Harare’s infrastructure. After ten years of no tax base, hyper-inflation and poor leadership many systems are failing. The power goes out almost daily and the municipal water supply is also infrequent. In fact, in some areas water and sewage lines have been placed in the same ditch and as the sewer lines break, the water supply is compromised. Families like Gareth’s are lucky to have a built in sprinkler, they have been able to convert the well to a water source for the home.
We are offered the daughter’s cell phone, which will be our only way to communicate while in Zimbabwe. Cell phones are readily available here, but obtaining a sim card involves a month of red-tape. From Gareth’s we go to the hotel, a former Sheraton residence but they have sold their assets and moved out of the country. The hotel is nice and comfortable, obviously a former Starwood residence. But we find in the restaurant a common occurrence in Zimbabwe: menus are pointless. The food served is often all that is available that day and everyone gets the same meal. When a buffet is offered, its not because pickings were more abundant that day, its quite the opposite. The buffets remind me of casserole night, when all the week’s leftovers are mixed together.
Dave knows of an establishment that is highly regarded and that he has patronized before. It is a residence converted to a French Restaurant. The entire home is very nice and surrounded by a beautiful garden, for those classmates reading this, it immediately reminds me of Face in Shanghai. Inside it is all business people – the menu is a bit pricey, compensation for variety and quality. The bar is fully stocked and the wine selection is great. I thought I ordered a glass, but the bottle followed me to the table. But that really wasn’t a problem. It was a great dinner in four courses. Its experiences like this that leave me with the overall impression that life in Africa can be much better than I expected.
Wow I am ready to go to Harare to be near
ReplyDeleteGareths till I can have some of those housekeepers, groundskeepers etc. I had no idea.
This post is quite impressive. And I do see that you are thinking of us at home.
Grandma sends her love.
Aunt Deb