Murphy's Law is True in Africa Too

I was scheduled to fly out of Arusha to Harare, Zimbabwe via Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Why did I pick this crazy route? (Look on a map. It's crazy.) Because it was the cheapest. In the future, I will weigh my sanity heavily when I compare it with the cost of a direct flight.

Our plane needed a part that they couldn't get until the next day so another flight was diverted to pick us up. The problem--lots of double booked seats, including mine. When we finally got it sorted it out it was after 8 pm (for a 5 pm flight) and I was squished in the middle seat at the back of the plane. How many people who know me understand what this means? I was not a happy camper.

We arrived in Addis around 10:00 p.m. and I had to go to baggage claim to get my luggage because some idiot (= ticket agent) in Kilimanjaro didn't tell me that it was NOT a good idea to check your luggage to Addis but check it all the way through. Of course, you can guess, I had no luggage.

I went up and down, in and out, around and around talking to everyone and anyone who would listen to find the suitcase with no luck. Meanwhile, other passengers were waiting to catch mini-buses to the hotel where we were going to stay until the flight the next day. (Oh yeah, did I mention there was a 13-hour layover between flights and we had to be shuttled to a hotel to stay for 7 hours until we departed the next day?) I filled out a missing luggage report and then waited outside on the curb for the bus.

At midnight, we finally checked into the hotel and I found the room to be really nice, thank God. I probably would have lost it if it had been a dive. I took a long, hot shower and didn't realize until afterward that the spray was going out on the floor because there was a large gap between the shower and the wall, and I ended up with an inch of water all over the bathroom. Stupid design. Not my problem. Towels to floor, teeth brushed, into bed.

A few hours later, I am rudely awakened by a hotel person trying to get into my room to wake me up. He would have actually come in to the room if the chain hadn't been on the door! Good Lord. It was only 5:20 a.m. and the flight wasn't till 9:00 a.m. He said he had to get some people up extra early because they didn't have enough buses for everyone to leave at the scheduled 7 a.m. pick-up. Did I look like someone who wanted to volunteer for the early time slot or just someone who wouldn't punch him in the nose for waking them up an hour early? Clearly, I must not have looked irritable or intimidating enough at check-in.

Got to Harare and waited for the bag, but again, nothing. I saw that my phone was dead so I couldn't call my ride, Carol, to tell her I was here, after arriving late. I walked around baggage claim looking for an outlet to plug in my phone, found one, and sat waiting for it to boot up. Called Carol. Her number was not in service. (Common problem as the network often goes out or doesn't work properly. Found out later, she lost her SIM card on the way to the airport.) Checked the luggage carousel again. No luggage. Wanted to cry. Sniff. Sniff. Went out of the airport and saw Carol driving past. Luckily she saw me and stopped.

I had no medicine, no clothes, no toiletries. My Zim phone was in my lost luggage. (I know, I know. For being a frequent traveler, I didn't plan this very well at all. My mind was elsewhere. On a man, of course. That's a different post.)

When we arrived home we found out there had been an attempted robbery, but the maid scared them off. Carol lives in a nice 4-bedroom house surrounded by a huge garden and high electrified walls. (Most residences in the low-density areas have electrified or barb-wired walls surrounding their homes, an unfortunate necessity in many Zimbabwean towns.) Oddly, the last time I was here, she had an attempted robbery too. The maid said the men were the same ones who had pried open the electric gate and come in the last time. It was so coincidental that we thought maybe they knew I was there with lots of cash, but how could they know when it happened while she was picking me up at the airport?

The next day we went to the pharmacy to try to get a small supply of the medications that I take. It still baffles me how they give you prescription drugs without a prescription. I caught a reflection of myself in the glass and had to laugh. I was dressed in borrowed, pleated Banana Republic shorts, probably from the 80s when Banana Republic had giraffes sticking out of the front of their stores. The legs were so wide I could have parachuted in them.

We couldn't get the medicine at the first pharmacy and had to go across town to a bigger one. There I spent $46 on a 5-day "emergency" supply. The pharmacist suggested we go to the Ethiopian Airlines office to get reimbursement. Great idea except the airline office was in downtown Harare--not an easy place to go because it's far and they "clamp" vehicles a lot. (Clamping - it's just what you think it is.)

We made the trek downtown and hassled with the airline people for a while until they handed over $75 cash. While we were there, the manager called to see if my luggage had arrived and it had just come in. Ahhhh.....Murphy's Law -- gotta love it.

Back to the airport to pick up my luggage, and soon discovered that my Zim phone had been stolen. We then went to the local Econet to get me a new phone, but it was crowded so went on to another one across town. I finally got the new one and I thought we were done with Murphy but no, there's more.

All I wanted after this craziness of the day was to take a long, hot bath but as we were eating dinner the electricity went out, so that ended that idea. When the power goes out, it shuts down the water pump so you can't get any water into the house. Consequently, Carol keeps buckets of water around the house for "flushing" the toilet, and lots of bottled water for drinking. (Oh, and lots of candles.)

I lay down on my bed to wait for the electricity to come back on so I could bathe, but fell asleep. I woke up about 2:00 a.m. with some very unpleasant symptoms that traveller's frequently experience. (Although I've never been sick like this while in Africa. Must have been the visit to Tanzania.) I was vomiting and everything, which was bad enough, but the electricity was still off, so here I am at 2:00 in the morning, violently ill, dumping buckets of water into the toilet to wash everything away. It was then as I was paying homage to the porcelain God that I was certain this had to be the worse trip I've ever had.

In the morning, Carol took me to a doctor, her neighbor two doors down. $50 later and I had 3 prescriptions to fill. Back to the pharmacy.

There was a bright side to my stay in Harare. It's always wonderful to see Carol and I was finally able to get out to Batsiranai to talk to the ladies about the project. We talked about some of the ideas I had in my 17-page Marketing Plan I did for them last year. They're still very keen on the whole idea, and we discussed several options for how it will work between the two sites: Harare and Vic Falls. Next step is to draft a proposal of how the operations process so they can understand it better.

Here is a video of a song they sang for me as a thank you for the work I am helping them to do:
https://youtu.be/rksxI-ndUpI  It was so touching and I was quite moved by their gratitude.

I figured with all I'd been through the past few days, I would splurge on an airline ticket to Vic Falls rather than go by bus, which most likely, would be one with worn shocks, bumping over pot-holed roads for 12 hours. No thanks. We tried to get a ticket online but it was twice as expensive ($240 vs $140.) Same if I purchased it at the airport. They said the best thing for me to do to get the cheapest fare was to.....go to the airlines office downtown. Here we go again...

I did finally make it to Vic Falls. Write soon.

A New Adventure - Tanzania!

I scheduled this trip to Africa to accomplish a myriad of objectives, including visiting an orphanage in Tanzania, going on safari in the Serengeti, and doing research for expanding the Batsiranai project in Zimbabwe. The journey has been a difficult one, with many ups and downs.

My first mistake was booking a flight from San Francisco to Tanzania via Johannesburg and Ethiopia with no rest stop in between. 27 hours in the air, 14 hours of layover time. Never again.

When I finally got to Kilimanjaro, it was four o'clock in the morning, and, after I collected my luggage, a uniformed woman asked me to leave the terminal because she was "locking up" the airport. So I was sitting outside in the dark at 4:00 a.m. in a completely foreign country, carrying $2000 cash, a Macbook, 2 iPhones, my Zim phone, a camera, etc., wondering where my ride was. He finally came about a 1/2 hour later, and drove me to my hotel in Arusha, 50 minutes away. My head and throat hurt (a sign of a cold coming on) and I was exhausted, so I checked in, and then slept the entire day and night, getting up only once to eat my room service dinner.

The following day I felt better, and left for Mto wa Mbu, about an hour and a half from Arusha, to visit the kids at the Children Concern Foundation orphanage that my friend Betsy is supporting. The kids were wonderful. They hugged me, jumped on me, clung like little vines around my arms and legs. I brought lots of art supplies, and we made thank you cards for Betsy and her friend K.C. who are doing wonderful work with the orphanage. In fact, they have raised enough money to build two new dormitories and two classrooms!

The next day I decided to teach the kids about collage art. The kids were really engaged, and did some beautiful collages from natural and "found" objects.

The dedicated directors of the orphanage, Peter and Andrew, took me out to the site where the new classrooms and dormitories are being constructed. The kids are going to have a much better life after they move here, each one getting their own bed for the first time in their lives.

I had planned two safaris while in Tanzania, so I gathered my guide, Samwel, and driver, Amos, and we took off for Ngorongoro crater and Tarangire National Park--two of the best places on earth to see wildlife.

I saw lots of animals--zebra, wildebeest, elephants, giraffe, lions, hyenas, impala--and a variety of beautiful birds. The animals are so beautiful in their natural habitat. I never tire of seeing the bold array of stripes in a huddle of zebras, or watching a giraffe glide along, it's impossibly long neck undulating gracefully with each stride.

If only my trip had stayed this pleasant... More to come. 

P.S. If you want the next update, put your email address in the space below under "Follow by Email" and you will automatically get the update. I won't be sending out a mass email next time. 

Birthdays! Birthdays!

I've been back to Zimbabwe twice this year already. Once in February to celebrate Ivy's 12th birthday and in June to celebrate Elle's 3rd birthday. Even though their father and I are no longer together, I still think of them as my girls and love them very much. Ivy had never had a birthday party in her life so to give her a party with balloons, a cake, presents and family surrounding her was very special for me. 

For Elle's birthday, I brought her a new party dress and headband, and she looked like a little African princess. She also had the cake, presents and balloons I did for her sister. She kept saying in Ndebele, "It's my cake, not Ivy's cake. It's my cake." She was so adorable I wanted to cry.

I also visited the women of Batsiranai to discuss the possibility of opening a new chapter of the project in Victoria Falls. I want to help the women and children of Vic Falls where so many of my friends are located, and I thought this would be an excellent way to do that. It would be a tremendous undertaking, but I'm willing to do what it takes to make it happen. If I can help even one child go to bed with a full stomach, clothes on their back, access to medical care when they need it, and money for school fees, then it's worth it.

I'm planning to make my third trip to Africa in the next few weeks. This time to investigate my options for the project location, fund-raising options, and to go over lots of details with Rose, Margaret and Nerica at Batsiranai. It will be a busy trip. I'm flying to Tanzania to talk with some safari operators to see if I can arrange a fund-raising safari next year. 

Will update you again when I get to Tanzania.

David and I decided to take a trip to see the Painted Dogs exhibit many miles away from Vic Falls so he negotiated to rent a car from a friend and off we went. 

Of Mice and Men

I'm preparing for my 7th trip to Africa. It's unbelievable to think I will have been to Africa this many times in only a year and a half. Now that's love! I will spend 5 weeks there with David enjoying their winter season. It will be nice because it won't be as hot. Generally highs only in the 80s and the nights are a mild, sub-Saharan "chilly" 50 degrees.

A few days ago, I spoke with David on the phone as I do every day. He's currently enjoying his "off" days; he works 22 days on and has 8 days off. He was with his friend Richard in "the village". It's Saturday night and they are hanging out catching mice. He's excited because they've caught 5 so far. I don't want to know why they're catching mice or what they're going to do with them. Every time I talk to David and he's with Richard he's doing something that makes me squeamish. The last time he was out with Richard they were at a farm. They had just caught a rabbit, killed it and skinned it and were sitting around roasting it on a fire. The animal-lover in me has a hard time with some of his leisurely pursuits.

Anyway, the connection with David was bad so I told him I'd call him back later. A couple of hours later I called again. I asked him how he was doing with the mice and he said they ended up catching 25. The rest of our conversation went like this:

"Oh," I said. "Is this like a sport? Why do you catch them? What are they for?"

He chuckles and says, "We eat them!"

There is a long silence on my end of the phone.

"Honey? Are you there? Can you hear me?" I hear David's voice coming from the iPhone in my hand but I have been stunned into muteness. After a couple of moments, I say, "Um, yes, David, I hear you. Did you say you eat them? You EAT them? Are you teasing me?"

He laughs again. "No, I'm serious! We roast them over the fire."

"But they're mice," I say, my voice barely audible.

"They are wild mice. We have large wild mice and smaller ones we call "rats". They are very nutritious and full of protein." I can hear the earnestness in his voice now. This is not the first time he's had to explain a common African pastime to my incredulous ears. "They even feed them to sick people. When you go to the hospital, it says on the menu: eggs, toast, mice."

Another long silence from my side of the world. My side of the world where people don't eat mice and rats and termites and worms. My side of the world that I'll be leaving soon for that side of the world. That side of the world that I love, that contains the person I love. The person who just ate his share of 25 mice. Rats. Rodents.

"Honey? Are you there? Can you hear me?" I hear David asking again.

"Uh, yes, David. I can hear you," I say.

His voice smiles into the phone, "I can't wait to see you, sweetheart. I have so many exciting things planned for us. We can go to the village and you can see how we catch the mice and then..." I don't remember what else he said after that. I do remember not eating lunch that day.

This morning as I left for work there were the remains of a large dead rat on the gravel in my driveway. Iggy, my darling male kitty that I love so much, ate everything but his victim's tail, one long foot and the entrails. As I moved quickly past the carnage, I made a mental note not to kiss Iggy's face when I got home that night. And then I thought about David. Oh, my dear David. What about the mice he ate? Well, I reasoned, I can kiss him. His mice were cooked!

Charge!

As most of you know, I went to Zimbabwe June 29-July 7  to visit David again and during this time he was off work so we spent the whole time together, which was nice. One morning he asked me if I was going to send out an update like I had done before. I told him there was nothing really new to write about and my friends and family have heard everything I've done already. Little did I know that very same day would provide quite a tale to be told!

It is "elephant season" in Victoria Falls now, and animals come into town to find water and food since the bush is very dry this time of year. David had warned me of the elephants roaming the streets, and I was anxious to see some up close since I've only seen them from across the river, on a game drive, or at the zoo. That afternoon we decided to walk into town. We stay at a place called Penny Wise Cottages and it's about 1 km from town.  We walk on tarred, paved roads all the way and the neighborhood is mostly residential until you get into town.

We were a few blocks from town when we saw several large elephants coming out of the bushes on the side of the road. David told me to not get any closer due to the fact that they are have been known to kill people when they are in town and easily agitated. 

I held back but took out my iPhone to take some pictures. We watched the elephants walk down the road until they were out of sight, and started to walk again. Suddenly David said to hold up because there was a bull elephant still in the bushes. I didn't see him, but David's a guide so he looks for these things. (I'd probably be dead after this incident because I was just awed by the fact that real elephants were walking on the road and my biggest concern at that moment was how my photos of them were coming out.) 

The elephant started coming out of the bushes and David pulled me back and said under his breath to keeping backing up slowly. We stepped back a few feet, watching the elephant the whole time, with a couple of other guys who were heading to town. All of a sudden the elephant turned to face us directly and started to pick up his legs to run. David screamed, "Run. Cheri! Run!" and I turned around and ran as if my life depended on it.

The other two guys took off like bullets too but in a different direction. The only thing I could think of during these few seconds was, "I'm going to die unless I find cover. I need to get behind that wall and run into that house. Please, God, let the door be open. If it's not, I'll run behind the house and into that shed." It's amazing how fast your brain comes up with Plan A and B when your life is on the line. 

I was in flip-flops and running so fast that I started to stumble. I knew that the elephant was going to catch up with me after I fell. I felt complete terror inside my whole body. 

Just then David yelled at me to stop running. I recovered my balance, and turned around. The elephant was standing in the center of the street looking at us. Then he threw his trunk up in the air and trumpeted SO loudly as if to say, "Don't f--- with me!" I will never forget that image as long as I live. 

He looked massive and wild, and I knew that if he had wanted to kill us, we would be dead. Surprisingly for their size, they can run much faster than humans and, as one of Africa's Big Five, if he is intent on killing you, you will die, unless he is shot. Elephants charge to kill, or to scare their prey by doing what is called a "mock charge." I can say, categorically, that it works. I had never been so scared in all my adult life.

I hugged David and kept saying, "I can't believe this. I can't believe this. We almost died. We almost died." (I tend to repeat myself when I'm freaked out.) My adrenaline was so high. I told David I was sorry for not listening to him when he told me to get in the car and roll up the window when we saw the leopard in Hwange National Park. If you recall, I was so excited I was hanging out the window taking pictures as the leopard strolled by our car. David was saying, "Cheri, this is one of the Big Five. Roll up your window. He could attack us even in the car." I ignored him and kept taking pictures. I have now learned to respect his instruction and these animals.

I asked David since he was wearing running shoes why he was so far behind me. He said he wanted to stay back so if the elephant kept coming it would get him first. (Okay, all together now, "Awwwwww....how sweet.") 

I said as I was running I was thinking about the horror of being trampled to death and David said, "Oh, he probably wouldn't trample you. He would grab you with his trunk, throw you on the ground, and pierce you with one of his tusks." 

Oh... that's so much better...

The group of elephants crossing the road into town.

The lone bull elephant that charged us.

You'll Trade my iPod for a What?

I told you before that it's hard to get items at the grocery stores. The shelves are lined with food but it's mostly the same food. Like they have regular shelves of stuff like we do -- rows and rows of vegetable oil say -- but all of it is the 500 ml bottle of Sunlight Oil. You don't have many choices. And it took me a while to find milk that tasted like milk. Most of the milk is "long life" milk which tastes like it's had one life too many. They are used to it but I can't stomach it. I finally found one that was "normal" and was so thrilled that I could eat cereal again. Funny how you get happy about the small things when the items we take for granted are taken away. 

Most stores take U.S. dollars at the check out in addition to South African Rands but they don't have U.S. coins so all of the transactions that end in an odd amount that would require change are balanced out with gum or candy. It's so funny. You buy something for .60 and they wait for you to pick out the candy that totals .40 and then give you your receipt. All the registers have .05, .10 and .15 cent items sitting there for that reason.

David is on a 30-day leave. Yesterday, we left after breakfast to walk into town, me with my iPhone on and him with my iPod on. We listen to the same song by cueing it up and pushing play at the same time. This is actually a bit dangerous, walking with music on, because the roads are narrow and the cars drive fast. And of course I tend to forget that they drive on the OTHER side of the road here so when I think I'm moving out of the way, I'm actually moving right in line to be run over.

So yesterday, we're walking along, and a truck slows down --someone David knows -- and we run to jump in the back so he can take us the rest of the way into town. After we do our errands, we buy chicken for our picnic then walk to the Zambezi River to sit along the banks and watch the water gush along toward the Falls. 

While we are sitting there, several huge elephants are across the river eating tree leaves along the bank. Sometimes being here seems surreal, especially when I encounter animals in places where I wouldn't think of seeing them. (Like outside of a zoo!) And there are always warthogs and baboons scampering everywhere, and when you see them you are reminded quite keenly that you are, indeed, in Africa.

Later, a guy comes along and says something to David in Ndebele and David motions him downstream. David says not to look because the guy is going to bathe. Sure enough, he strips off his clothes and washes (with no soap). I couldn't help but peek a couple of times. David says that since the water gets shut off because people can't pay their water bills that they have to bathe in the river. 

That's life here. Every day you see women carrying large sticks and branches on their heads because they have gone to gather firewood to build a fire to cook, etc. because they don't have electricity either. I am always amazed at these women. They gather firewood, get water, clean the house every day, cook, wash clothes (by hand with a bar of soap in a bucket of water! no appliances), take care of the children, and put up with their husbands going out with other women because that is the culture here. 

David and I go back into town and I meet one of David's good friends, Sole. David had let Sole listen to my iPod the other day, and he was going on about how much he loved it and wanted one so bad. He asked me if I would bring him back one next time I came. I asked him how was he going to pay for it. He said he would give me a cow. 

I said, "did you say a cow?" He said, "Yes. I have lots of them and it's what I use to pay for things." I just busted out laughing, the idea seemed so absurd. I said, "What would I do with a cow?" He said I could skin it and make a rug and then use the meat for food. And he was dead serious. Sorry, Sole. I don't think I'll be trading an iPod for a cow anytime soon....but stay tuned. You never know what will happen next in Africa.

At Odds with the Oven

I tried to bake the other day. What a fiasco that was. Our stove/oven is possessed with a mind of its own and pretty much does whatever it wants to do. There are 6 knobs across the top of the stove and no writing of any kind anywhere on the stove or the knobs. When we first started cooking with it, we had to turn on all the burners because we didn't know which knob went to which burner as none of the knobs corresponded to any of the burners. 

We would stand there trying to cook and David would be touching the burners to see if it was a "hot" burner so we could boil water or a "low-medium" burner that we could simmer something on. We finally figured out that one burner goes on anytime the stove is turned on, two burners work somewhat normally, and the 4th does not work at all. And we have to wear flip-flops when we cook because if we touch the stove in bare feet, we get shocked. 

One day I wanted to bake some brownies. I bought a muffin pan and all the ingredients and thought I would try to make them as muffins. I could not find cake pans or cookie sheets so I made do with what I had. It was difficult figuring out the ingredient amounts because I don't have measuring cups and the ingredients are all listed in metric. I found a can that was 100grams and used that as the basis for all my measurements. I finally put together what I thought was a pretty good batch and filled the greased and floured muffin tins with batter. 

Our (possessed) oven only has one temperature. You can have it broil with the top burner or bake with the bottom burner. We figured out which set of knobs turned a certain way would do each. I had the brownies baking for a while and when I checked on them I saw all 12 brownies had spread out over the top of the muffin pan touching each other like one big brownie, and where each muffin was supposed to be, the brownie was caved in like a little swimming pool. I took them out and thought, "oh well. They will still taste good." (I had planned to give them to my friends at Masuwe.) 

I tried to get one out and it was stuck on tight. I tried to pry it out with a fork and finally was able to scrape it all out. All of them were stuck like glue to the pan and I ended up with a large heap of brownie bits and crumbs. David said they wouldn't know if I told them it was an American dessert called Brownie Crumbs and you're supposed to eat it this way, but I just couldn't bring myself to give them to anyone. 

My second foray into baking came with the inspiration on the flour sack for scones. How hard could scones be? I mixed up a batch and cut them out with the peanut butter jar lid and put them on a roasting pan in a hot oven. For some reason the oven burner switched from the bottom burner to the top broiler burner even though I had the setting on what we always used as the oven setting. I tried to get the bottom burner to go on but it wouldn't and I ended up with scones that were burned on the top and very dry. (We ate the bottoms and they were okay.) 

But I was determined not to let Africa win, so I made another batch a few days later. This time, nothing would go wrong. The bottom burner lit up properly and I put the scones in. I came back 20 minutes later and the oven had gone off. I tried again to get it to work and it would go on and then go off again some minutes later. The scones were in the oven for over an hour and a half at this on and off low temperature and they ended up being hard as rocks. I am no longer inspired to bake. 

I am attempting to cook a roast this evening for dinner. I don't know how it will come out but I'm crossing my fingers that the oven is having a good day. When I bought the roast yesterday, I asked the guy how to cook it. He said, "oh, I'm sorry mama, I don't know how to cook this. We could never afford to buy this meat so we have never cooked it before. I will call the madam and she will tell you how to cook it." 

He took out his cell phone and dialed someone and I heard him explain what I wanted to this woman on the line. He was quiet a moment and then he said "she is white". (She wanted to know before she told me how to cook it if I was black or white! I guess she wanted to know if she should tell me how to roast it in an oven or over an open fire!!) 

Anyway, she told me to roast it an hour per kilogram. I told her my oven didn't have any temperature settings. She said, "I know, mine doesn't either. What I do is just open the door occasionally to let out some of the heat and it adjusts the temperature so it doesn't get too hot. It will be fine." It actually came out pretty good.

No matter what the down sides of being in Zimbabwe are or the challenges I've encountered, I would never trade this experience for anything. It has been so incredible and I have had so much fun. Of course, spending so much time with David has been the best of all. The life here is so simple and the people so lovely. Everyday I get up and make coffee and feed the kitty that adopted us. Then I put on shorts, a tank top and my flip flops and do whatever I want to do that day, which usually involves going into town, checking email (when the internet is not down), shopping for food at the store or the open market, or having drinks with friends. 


I admit that I am a bit homesick and miss some of the many options we have at home to do for fun. Like, sometimes I just want to be able to go to the movies. I am looking forward to showing David life in the U.S. I know he will have culture shock. He originally grew up in a village where they had mud huts with thatched roofs and cow dung on the floor. The kitchen was a hut with an open fire pit in the center and sometimes he would sleep near it to keep warm. 

Of course, now he has better living accommodations but nothing like my house at home. I don't know if he's ready for the impact that being in the U.S. will have on him. He asked me once how many lanes of tarred road we have. I told him there are some with 12 lanes across (counting both sides.) He just stared at me like I was nuts. Oh, yes. It will be culture shock, for sure.

Riding in a Chicken Bus and You're the Chicken

A couple of days ago, David and I went to Bulawayo, the second biggest city in Zim about 450 kms from Vic Falls. It's the closest place David could get his passport renewed, which he needs to get a visa to come to the U.S. Of course, I expected some kind of T.I.A. thing to happen, either in transit or in Bulawayo, and Africa did not disappoint. Here is our adventure:

We had to be at the "bus station" by 2:00 a.m. to catch a bus. The bus station is a huge dirt lot where all the buses are lined up. It has an old station building but it is rundown and there is no power so it is virtually useless. There are no lights except for the light of the moon to guide you and you walk around the maze of buses and people looking for the bus you want. 

We found the one going to Bulawayo and paid the guy $20 for the tickets and got on board. I had heard that travelling by "chicken bus" was very uncomfortable but cheap. We had two seats and the third seat was empty so I thought we were in for a smooth ride. However, a short time later, we stopped and more people got on. Our third seat was now occupied and the row in front of us was taken by three very drunk men, one of whom was loud and obnoxious. We had planned on sleeping during the trip but that didn't seem likely now. 

We had another stop a bit later and more people got on. There weren't any more seats left and I didn't understand how these people were going to find a place to sit, but they started putting all their luggage and stuff in the aisle and standing next to it. 

At one stop I had to use the toilet so David got the conductor to take me off the bus. We were at the back so I literally had to step on people and their belongings to get out. The whole time I'm maneuvering around people, I'm asking the conductor if this is a real restroom he is taking me to. He's not answering. At the front of the bus, children sleeping on the steps had to move for me to get out, and there was one child sprawled out on the dashboard. Really.

I asked him where to go and he pointed to the bushes along the road.  They will gladly leave you behind so I was quick and got back on the bus, waded through the throng again, and made it back to my seat. More people boarded the bus at another stop--I don't know where they put them--I was half asleep and didn't care. 

We finally got to Bulawayo around 8:30 am.  David forgot to copy his ID so we had to find a place that made copies. The power was out so it was difficult to find one with working copiers. Then on to the passport office. This place was like the DMV only 10 times worse. It was hot and humid and of course had no air conditioning and jam packed with people. There was a long line at Counter 2 where David was supposed to go but luckily we had called earlier and arranged to get the "deluxe" treatment for a mere $50 extra. Zimbabwe works on this bribe system for everything. 

We went to the front of the queue and people didn't get upset or anything--they must know that this stuff happens and learn to deal with it. The guy told David his ID was too faded and he would have to get another. This usually takes several days and we only had a few hours so the guy called a friend of his at the ID office and arranged for David to get a new ID that day for a mere $20 extra. 

We walked over to the ID office, about 10 blocks away, and found out that the office did not have power so we walked back to the passport office, at which time the guy phoned another friend and had us go back to the ID office to a different dept. that had electricity. 

We went back to the passport office with the new ID and the guy took David's paperwork and told him to come back at 2:00. It was 12:30 so we went to have lunch and shop a bit. 

Unfortunately, the buses going back to Vic Falls had already left so we now had to try to catch the 5:00 pm minivan called a "combi". (David said if we didn't make it, we would have to hitchhike home!) We went back to the passport office and the guy said David needed to write a letter stating why he wanted a passport so he wrote how much he loves me and  wants to go to the U.S. to marry me. Swoon. 

I couldn't handle the heat anymore so I went outside. While I was waiting, I talked to a couple of women who had been there for 4 days trying to get some document. FOUR DAYS. 

Finally about 4:00 pm David came out of the office smiling. The paperwork had been processed and he was set to receive his passport in 2 weeks. And remember, we were considered lucky because we had money to get faster treatment. Most of these people wait for days to get what we got in a mere 8 hours.

We got a taxi to the van meeting area. I thought the bus ride was bad. Oh no. It gets worse. We were crammed into this little van so tightly that we could not even sit straight across. We were sort of zig-zagged across the seat so we could all fit. There were four of us across, four in the front (including the driver), four in the seats behind us and four behind that. 

I was really stressed out and didn't think I would do very well for the 7 hour ride. I took a Xanax and hoped I could just relax enough to get through it but my head hurt, I was very tired and cranky, and at this point, tired of the Africa experience. When another guy got in and stooped over our row with his legs standing on the boarding platform, I took another Xanax and tried to chill out.

About 1/2 hour into the ride, someone's luggage fell off the top of the van and we had to stop. David and I got out to stretch and he wanted to know If I was doing okay. I just started crying and told him that I just couldn't be squished anymore. I told him to ask my friends at home how they always hear me say, "I don't want to be squished," whenever we go anywhere. He tried to comfort me by saying that "This is Africa and this is how we travel." I sobbed, "But I'm an American and I'm not used to this crazy kind of travel."  After some minutes, we got back in the van and I figured I needed another Xanax for the rest of the ride home.  I know the prescription says 'take one tablet 3 times a day as needed' and the doctor probably didn't mean all at once but this was an exception!

I somehow wedged myself between David and the window so I could sleep (or maybe I actually passed out) and when we stopped again it was dark and we were in this rest stop that sort of reminded me of a fake Disneyland village. There was a cluster of little shops and everything was dark because the electricity was out but they had a few candles burning in each of the shops. It was so pretty. 

I don't know if it was because I was drugged and tired or what, but I found this so charming and I was running around to each shop buying Cokes, and chicken pieces, and these big puffy balls of fried dough covered in sugar--like a donut-- that were just yummy, and we bought pieces of fish at another place. I kept asking everyone if they had napkins, and David told me to stop asking because everyone thought I wanted nappies (diapers). 

We finally arrived in Vic Falls around 11:30 pm. I was exhausted and couldn't remember a more difficult trip. David said it was a "very good" trip by African standards. No problem. Whatever you say, darling. Next time we're taking the Pathfinder bus for $60 a seat. I'm buying.

I'll Have a Beer

Since Zimbabwe is trying to climb out of the worst economic downturn in its history, things are often difficult to get. I'm lucky that I went to Zim this year, though, since just 6 months ago they were still struggling to get food in the grocery stores. You had to buy food on the black market. Can you imagine? So while I shop at the grocery store and I can't find tin foil, I try to remember that at least they have food on the shelves.

Last year, they started using the U.S. Dollar as their national currency. Before that, the Zimbabwe Dollar became so worthless that it took 10,000,000,000 dollars (yes, that's 10 trillion dollars) to buy a loaf of bread. David was telling me how people would bring bags of Zim dollars to the store to buy one small item and it took forever to count it out so the government started making billion and trillion dollar notes. I think the largest was 20 trillion. I have some of those notes, and of course, it looks like Monopoly money to me. 

Also the inventory in the grocery stores is a crap shoot.  I thought that they didn't have paper towels or tin foil but yesterday I saw them. They just run out of stuff and then it is a long while before the stock gets replenished so you think they don't have something but they might--you just have to wait a while to see if it comes in. 

All paper products are super expensive. I bought a box of Kleenex for $5.60 (I had to have them!) A roll of paper towels (one brand, one size, no choice) was $3.50. A pack of 40 napkins $3.75. Anyway, you never know what you're going to get when you go into the store. I once waited 2 weeks to get milk because the stores didn't have it. This happens with Coke and beer too. Sometimes you have to go to several stores to get a Coke or the beer you want. 

And God forbid you want to buy beer or coke in bottles! They have this thing about bottles. I'm not sure where it stems from but they are very particular about them. Most of the time you have to drink the stuff there and turn in the bottle before you leave. Sometimes they won't let you buy a bottle of something unless you have an empty bottle to trade. They reuse these bottles a lot. The Coke bottles are all scratched and the paint on the logo is all scuffed up and faded. (Does Coke's brand manager know this is happening?) Yesterday I tried to buy 4 beers to have on hand when David came home from work. They made me promise that the taxi driver who was taking me home come back on his way back into town and drop off the 4 empty bottles I said I had at home. Another time we were traveling to Hwange National Park and stopped in the town to get beer and a loaf of bread (I like snacking on the warm, uncut loaf) and the check-out girl wouldn't let us have our bread until we finished the beer and brought the bottles back. Our bread was being held hostage for the empties!! 

Another funny thing, they call all alcohol 'beer'. I asked David's friend who had come over for dinner what he would like to drink. He said beer. I handed him a cold bottle of Castle and David said "oh, I think he wants a vodka and tonic." I said, "But he said beer." David said, "we call all alcohol 'beer'." Why?? How hard is it to say vodka when you want vodka? Gin if you want gin? Beer if you want beer? So now I ask, "What kind of beer do you want? Castle, vodka, or gin?"

Speaking of beer, they have these large outdoor places called 'beer halls'. They are big, fenced-in yards with benches scattered around and usually a TV showing a soccer game and a 'store' where you buy the alcohol. Most of the people buy these large plastic buckets of beer which is some kind of home-made stuff that is really cheap. They sit in a circle and pass the bucket around and everyone sips from it. I didn't try it, of course, (germs!) but I thought it was something I might have done in college when money was tight but the desire to drink was strong!

Another new African custom I learned today. Always something. I'll write again soon! Love you all!

The African Gestapo

David and I found a flat together about 1 1/2 km from town. It's half the price but the same size and better amenities so we're happy. The only difference is that we have to walk to town every day to get things when all I had to do before was walk downstairs. Oh well. It's great exercise! Everyone walks everywhere here. It's a part of life. Whether you have to walk 1 block or 3 kms, people just walk. They don't have money for taxis and very few have cars or bicycles. 

Our cottage is in a place called Penny Wise Cottages and it is surrounded by a stone wall and electrified wires on top of that (although the electricity has long since been turned off.) All of the houses have fences around them that have electricity or razor wire, and also a guard that stands watch from the evening until morning. I was surprised at this since it seems like such a safe town but they told me it's because people come in from neighboring countries (Vic Falls borders Zambia and Botswana) and try to steal things and then go back -- all in a night's work. So the guards and fences are there to keep everyone safe. That suits me just fine. 

Where I was living before when I was renting on my own, the rules were that I was not to have any visitors after 9:00 pm (um...hello?? I have a boyfriend...) but David would stay later anyway and we never had a problem until one night I got a knock on the door about 11:00. I told David to hide in the closet and he grabbed his hat and I stuffed him in between the clothes. I answered the door and it was the Sentinel (the guard) asking where David was. (David had "checked in" when he came over earlier so he knew he was there.) I said David left already. (Sorry, God. Just a little white lie.) He said, "When? Why didn't I see him?" I said, "I don't know. Maybe you were sleeping when he left," He got a bit huffy at that and asked if he could search the flat. I told him I was really unwell and suffering from a flaming headache and he would have to leave. 

A few minutes later we had another knock on the door and the Sentinel came back with the apartment manager. The manager asked where David was and I told them again that he had already left and that I was getting a little annoyed at being disturbed, especially since I wasn't feeling well. They kept insisting to know where David was, and I kept insisting that he left. Just then the guard pointed down to the floor of the foyer and asked, "Who's are those shoes?" Oh, God! David always took his shoes off when he came over. I just about choked at such a stupid oversight on my part. I hemmed and hawed about David keeping several pairs of shoes at the flat and, it even sounded lame to me. So I thought I'd call his bluff and tell him to just go ahead and search the flat.

I opened the door wide and told him to go in. You'll see he's not here, I said. He came in and looked around all the rooms and even out on the terrace. Lastly, he went into my bedroom and I walked in and said, "See? He's not here!" Just then he looked at the closet. We looked at each other for a couple of seconds and I knew it was do or die.  I figured I better do something grand, so I started in with big arm gestures and going on about how I felt like it was Nazi Germany and he was acting just like the Gestapo and that he really had to leave now because I'd had just about enough. Well, to my relief, it worked. After a minute he reluctantly left, eyeing the closet the whole time he walked out.  I'm sure both he and the apartment manager knew that David was still there! But I wasn't going to give him up that easily. Stay tuned for more fun in Africa coming up.

T.I.A.

I'm here in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe visiting my new boyfriend, my darling, dimpled David. It has been two weeks since I left so I thought you were due for an update.

David helped me find a one bedroom flat right in the main area of town on the top (4th) floor. It's run like a hotel. They come in every day and clean the apartment, wash the dishes, give fresh linens, etc. The flat has a living room, full kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. It's really nice by third-world standards. I did not like the cockroaches that I encountered on day one but some spraying took care of them and, of course, nothing works perfectly, like the shower that comes out at a trickle, but that's how it is here. They have an acronym they use called "T.I.A." It stands for "THIS IS AFRICA". And that's just how it is.

The view from the living room is of the mist coming off of Victoria Falls and that's where the sun comes up so it's really pretty. I sit in a big comfy chair every morning with my coffee and watch the sun come up or the rain come down. Either one is nice. The weather has been hot and humid the last few days which means today I hope we will be walking the cubs to Croc Rock--my favorite place on earth. It's located along the Masuwe River and where we swam all the time when I was a volunteer. We would just jump right in, fully clothed. It was so freakin' hot that it was a welcome relief to get cool in the cold river. If you watch the video I did, you will see how beautiful Croc Rock is.

I have been trying to cook at home but I'm still in the habit of going out to eat every day. The daily staple here is called sadza and it is basically a very thick corn meal, sort of like mashed potatoes, that they eat at lunch and dinner with meat and vegetables. David has wanted me to make him a sadza dinner (is he already thinking of me as an African wife??) so I'm going to attempt it tonight. I'll let you know how it turns out. I don't really see the point in spending hours in the kitchen slaving over a hot stove when a nearby little hole-in- the-wall restaurant makes the same thing and it's delicious for $1 a plate. It always amazes me how cheap it is. 

Everything is eaten with the fingers--the sadza, meat, vegetables, etc. They don't use napkins, which just bothered me to no end for the longest time. I guess I'm used to it now. They always wash their hands before and after the meal, but not with soap, so I'm always putting on Purell hand sanitizer. However, that's going to stop soon because I'm running out of it, and they don't have it here. Guess I'll have to adapt completely to the African way.   

I'm here in a local restaurant eating sadza (with my fingers) and a white woman just came in. We are the only two white people in this crowded restaurant. She ordered sadza and is eating it with a fork! Hmmph....foreigner! :-)

Daily life in Vic Falls is so simple, although I do complicate it by complaining to the management that the faucets don't turn on and off properly, that I don't have enough toilet paper (you have to ask the management for it every time you want a roll! I said forget it, I'll just buy my own) and get frustrated that I can't get things I want at the market. No cake mixes, brownie mixes, olive oil, light butter, cheese, brocolli, etc. The locals seem to get along just fine without my missing "luxuries." 

But I love it here. The people are so helpful and friendly. And they run on Africa time so everything takes a reeeeally long time. But since I don't have meetings to get to or projects due, I don't stress about it too much.

I just finished making an iMovie that compiles my video and some photos of my time as a volunteer with the Lion Encounter program (the first time I was here in January). It shows you how we fed the cubs, walked them, played with them, etc. I hope you'll like it. 

Here is the link:  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hb-kJAXt9B0