One last shot against the pan, and then it was time to go bushwhacking through that crazy nothingness of teak and tall grass that had us a bit turned around at the start of our safari.
We’re having some trouble keeping the windshield defrosted- but do we see something up ahead?
As we crawl closer, we notice that indeed there is a living roadblock up ahead. It’s dead quiet out here at 6:30AM, and all we can do is cut the engine and watch this guy go about his morning routine. Not a bad kiss goodbye from the park! It beat a lion chasing us away…
Out here, if you don’t look sharp, you have no idea about what might be standing right beside you…
We eventually escape the muddy clutches of the back road and find ourselves on some beautiful, unbroken asphalt. Now that we are back in relative civilization, our immediate concern is to refuel the car. We were told that there was a filling station near the park- a good thing since we were certain that we’d run out of gas before getting to the first big town (Bulawayo).
As it turns out, there were several gas stations on the road to Bulawayo. The only problem? None of them had gas. We’d roll up, walk up to shopkeepers- all who were in no rush to pump our gas. This, as we would quickly learn, was a sure sign that there was no gas to be had. Uh-oh.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. They have us pull around to the side of the building and before we know it, our highly official friend is dumping something into the gas tank. “Is my car going to blow up?” asks Annie in a half-joking manner. “Maybe,” I think to myself- but then again, I don’t think that today is our day to die. We’re going to make it to a real gas station with this premium liquid.
At last we’re back on the road, rolling down the highway without a care in the world now that we’ve got more Go Go Juice that seems to be doing the trick. Nothing can stop us now- there’s only cabbage trucks that require overtaking on the road.
Zimbabwe is a former British colony- and I’m not sure if it is related- but the roads all have rest areas every couple of kilometers. Except here, it’s not called a “Rest Stop”- it’s called a “Lay By”. Figuring that we should give one of these fine diversions a look-see, we pull over and test the facilities. The verdict? I don’t think I’ll be laying about one of these anytime soon- but I definitely appreciate the presence of a trash can.
As we’re nearing Harare, we get a front row seat of a storm going through its birth pangs. Looks like the rest of our journey will be completed in the rain. Good thing we’ve visited our Lay By and have also gassed up sufficiently.
Nine hours later, we find ourselves rolling through downtown Harare. It’s nothing like view that we had this morning, but I’m still impressed by the number of clean-looking skyscrapers (and working traffic lights).
We think that the verdict on this guy was that he was looking for better cell phone reception. He climbed out of the cab of this moving truck and was having a chat on his phone- yes, while standing upright. When he was done, of course he climbed back in and continued on with his day. Yet another example of something that ultimately becomes unremarkable to someone living in these parts.
Unlike in Dakar, phone card vendors adopt a more casual approach to selling their wares. You can see that they don’t smash a dangling supply of top up cards against your car window- instead they put them on a stick, let them flap in the breeze, and then they turn around and ignore the fact that idling cars are potential customers. I don’t think this guy is very good at his job.
They do however sell magazines at traffic intersections (and they sell some other stuff too). What I liked about this guy was the fact that he had fashioned the Zimbabwe flag as a cape.
I took this photo because it showed the way to the Publicity Bureau. I am only guessing that this office has the creatively challenging job of painting a positive image of Zimbabwe’s leadership. I could definitely be wrong, but after reading a very excellent book on Robert Mugabe and the state of Zimbabwe (click here to check it out), I would guess that they have their work cut out for them.
Case in point: “Heads Roll Over Mugabe Plot”. The headlines are always interesting, and many ensure that you never quite forget that this is a country that operates in a perpetually precarious condition. Bob, after all, is 88 years old- and no one’s quite sure what’s going to happen next.
But just to balance things out, rest assured that not all the headlines are about the gerontocrat. We’ve got other pressing headlines to cover!
I am really trying not to dwell on Mugabe, lest I portray an image of Zimbabwe that makes you want to stay away. Really- if you have the means and desire to a safari- I urge you to book a trip. Still, I wanted to show you my best attempt at the street that passes by Mugabe’s official residence in Harare. This main road is closed and barricaded every day between 6pm and 6am. Paranoid, anyone?
I also need to briefly touch upon the currency issue once again. If you remember my first Zim entry, then you know that U.S. dollars are acceptable tender in this country. The only issue with this (apart from the fact that a lot of our dollars look downright disgusting and would have been taken out of circulation in America) is that they don’t use coins. This means that at the store, you often get this kind of “IOU” from the cash register. Crazy, isn’t it?
The markets in Harare are not like the evil harass-you-fests in Dakar. Annie took me to this one, which was located on a parking lot (really, they built a parking structure and then instead set up a market- go figure). The people manning these places are still excited to see a foreigner perusing their stalls of Africrap, but they are much more gentle than your average Senegalese merchant. The mentality is different here, and honestly- so many of these people have been persecuted by the regime that I don’t have the heart to haggle with them just so I can save a dollar or two on a gift. It is abundantly clear that these folks need that kind of savings way more than I do .
Annie was also nice enough to take me to a place that displayed Shona stone carvings. These are gorgeous- many highly ornate (and massive). I have done a horrible job of providing anything in the way of cultural enrichment during my Zimbabwe blog entries, but the Shona people are found in this country, Botswana, and Mozambique. Shona is also one of the official languages of Zimbabwe.
More options for shopping in the Harare environs. This place is holds the silver work of a world-renowned jeweler. Annie and I had to travel down some very random and seemingly-deserted country roads to get here- but we were richly rewarded when we found this studio.
This was the view from the main room. The woman working that day suddenly exclaimed, “Oh look, the giraffe is back” as she looked out the window. My zoom makes him hard to see- but indeed we stood there in awe as we watched this fantastic panorama come to life below us.
No, the average Zimbabwean cannot afford to shop here. No matter where I go in the world (yes, even in America), I always find it impossible to ignore the incredible disparity between the different social and economic classes. Do I feel slight guilt for the fact that I am able to patronize any one of the aforementioned establishments without fear of being chased away because I look too poor or malnourished? Kinda. Does that stop me from spending my hard-earned money and feeling incredibly grateful for all of these amazing experiences? Not at all.
