Personal reflections on being in Bulawayo (+ elsewhere in Z)

When we were changing our money in M&S in Edinburgh, the nice woman who was counting out dollars for us asked where we were going. When we told her, she replied, 'Zimbabwe? That's an interesting place to go on holiday?!' And of course, we understood that 'interesting' perfectly. The media in the UK hardly mention countries in Africa unless there has been trouble there and Zimbabwe had been making the news quite a lot - economic problems, political problems, elections coming up in July which will be bitterly contested. And so on.

But she was right - in the original sense of 'interesting' too. It's hugely interesting. And worthwhile visiting. It has amazing scenery, lots of historical remains from early medieval times and right through colonial times. But it is also fascinating to see and partly participate in contemporary life.

It has been very easy being here. There is a habit of courtesy here - as in much of Southern and East Africa. It begins with the cultural requirement to greet people. By which they don't mean a casual 'Hi!' or 'Excuse me.' Rather it means a much longer exchange e.g. Good morning/ How are you?/Fine/How are you?/Fine/How has your day been? And sometimes on for a bit longer. The least is an exchange of 'How are you?'. This custom means that a polite exchange has already taken place and established a pattern before any questions, comments, requests, etc are made.

But it's not just civility. People have been so helpful. In the excellent Bradt travel guide to Zimbabwe that I downloaded before coming there is a comment about security, theft etc. The author remarks that of course one should be careful about flaunting your wealth and possessions, especially since any foreigner who can afford to be holidaying here must be (relatively) wealthy. But he goes on to say that in Bulawayo anyone approaching you is just as likely to be offering help. Indeed. That is exactly right. One time I stopped dead on the pavement wondering if I had some item or other with me. Immediately a stranger asked if I needed help. The same thing happened to Peter in Masvingo (as we wrote in the blog on Peter's memories of Zimbabwe). And as we wrote in the blog on the Bulawayo Club, all the staff there went out of their way to be helpful. (By the way, I referring to both Black and White Zimbabweans here.)

Not only have we found people to be polite and helpful, but also we felt remarkably safe, at least in Bulawayo. (We are talking about Bulawayo. The centre of Harare is another matter - we were warned not to walk out at night, and to be careful in the day.) So much so that we have done some of the safety no-nos without a second thought. For instance, a man flagged Peter down when he was driving on a dirt road through the remains of an industrial area (abandoned factories, etc). Peter immediately stopped and wound down the window. The man only wanted to point out a flat tyre and then to offer to find someone to fix it within five minutes. Which he did.

And again, when we got lost trying to find the Khame ruins (we'll write about this fantastic historical site another time) we stopped in one of the townships to ask the way. (I use the word townships because it is what the inhabitants called them. They are brick built houses with yards, about the same size as many UK houses, and not shanty towns in any way.) Two men looked concerned and decided it was too difficult to explain.

So one of them offered to come in the car with us and show us the way as long as we dropped him back home at the end of trip. Which we did. He was called Francis and was a nice man. We enjoyed his company.

The rich seemed to have moved out to the suburbs. That is where the expensive restaurants and shopping malls seem to be for instance. And very pleasant they were too. Here we are in 'Roosters' in one of the shopping malls, about to have a light lunch. (It was delicious, too.)

We enjoyed staying right in the middle of Bulawayo. There were plenty of well-heeled people enjoying eating and shopping in the centre where we were - as well as plenty of poor ones. At least there were plenty of well-heeled Black Zimbabweans. Most of the White ones seemed to stay in the suburbs for some reason.

 So when we were walking down the pavements (or queuing in Nandos) we, well mostly me, enjoyed the fashion parade.

We liked going to Nandos, partly because it had veggie options for Mo in this very carnivorous country. Peter was  thoroughly at home with all the meat on the menu.Like the Edinburgh one, Nandos was always busy - but with a slightly different menu. The sadza (maize porridge) with peri peri relish and roast vegetables was delicious.

Eating, shopping, finding a coffee, it is impossible to get away from economics. There was a very congenial cafe called the Indaba. It was meant to be a book and coffee shop but there were nearly no books There were nearly no books in the bookshop either. Or medicines in the pharmacy. Or stationery in the stationery shop. Or department store goods in the department store. In the middle of town. This lack was because of the lack of foreign exchange. Shortages of petrol were everywhere too (though not so much in Harare.)

So we saw long petrol queues in Bulawayo and Masvingo and empty forecourts everywhere, including in Bulawayo and Masvingo. This was the queue in Masvingo. We are in the grey car, but it isn't the back of the queue. There were another three cars behind us. You can't help but wonder about think about all those people who work in the petrol stations and are suddenly unemployed for an indefinite time. For everyone it is a very, very tough economic situation. The teachers went on strike and lost. There are unemployed teachers but the ones who are working are doing a double shift (8-1 and then 2-7 is what I think we were told). On the other hand the prices in the supermarkets for foreign brands were eye-watering. For instance a packet of coffee which would cost about £3 in the UK is about £7.50. So some people must be doing very well indeed.There are hugely expensive houses in the suburbs and some very fancy vehicles. Meanwhile a lot of the educated population is abroad, and the poor are very poor indeed. One woman said, movingly, that her daughter was in her second year in university in Harare, and was 'learning in hope'.

It is impossible to get away from economics. It is difficult to get away from politics. We enjoyed the newspaper headlines, though not just for their political content. We didn't find out what the headline third from the right meant. It was easy to read them because they are all in English. (Indeed just about everyone speaks English. We only ever met one person who didn't. Nearly everyone else spoke it fluently, between themselves as well as to us.) However some of the TV party political broadcasts were in other languages. So Peter very much enjoyed one of them, in a pub, with everyone joining in and commenting, apparently from different sides, and very good humoredly. He hadn't a clue what they were all saying  but the experience was immensely enjoyable. As he told them, to their great amusement.

If you are interested in what is going on in politics it doesn't take long to start a - guarded, often coded - discussion of the political situation. We were interested that one person referred to 'Comrade Mugabe', apparently approvingly. Others spoke of the dancing in the streets when the news came through about Mugabe's removal. We heard some speak with deep bitterness about the current president being so close to the previous one and being so identified with the divisive policies of his party, ZANU. Especially when those policies resulted in massacres of some of the population. The papers we bought included long articles about the situation, always very obviously partisan to one side or another. One article said approvingly that the current president was willing to let 'bygones be bygones'. Huh? Anyway, the elections are coming up, a change in itself. and like everyone else, including the international observers in the plush Holiday Inn in Harare, we wait to find out what happens.

In the midst of all the economic trouble we were interested to notice that everyone, but everyone (except, probably, the poorest) has a mobile phone.There is at least one good reason for this. The country has run out of cash. At one point in April, apparently there was one working ATM in the whole of Zimbabwe. There are more now, but the queues at any ATMs that have cash are heart-breaking. They are, in effect, the poor people's equivalent of the petrol queues of the rich. People can sit all day waiting for the chance to withdraw some money and still go home penniless, with no money for food or transport. On the other hand for those with enough money to have a mobile there is another solution (so clever!): ecocash. It is possible to bypass cash altogether by signing up to the biggest mobile network, Econet. If you have an econet account you can pay directly. We saw most shops and food outlets (probably all of them) displaying the number they used to take payment.

Oh and charging the mobile? Easy if you can afford a solar charger. (This one was round the back of a litttle museum in the Matopos.) There is plenty of sun here - we tried buying a solar charger at home but there isn't enough sun in Scotland it seems.

We loved being in Zimbabwe, and apart from the cost etc would more than happily go back. I now have my 'Driving in  Southern Africa' badge. Good roads, pot-holed roads, strip roads (that's where there is only tarmac for one vehicle so to pass on-coming traffic you put two wheels on the hard dirt road either side of it) and dirt/bush roads.
And driving into Harare in the rush hour with the minibuses a law unto themselves, and other people managing the best they can roughly within the rules of the road.

Happily, though, we found it very easy to leave Zimbabwe because the hotel in Harare was not good. It had everything going for it: lovely location, lovely building, big comfortable rooms and friendly reception staff (who greeted us with a little glass of baobab juice (?) - weird but quite good. On the other hand nothing worked: the sheets were stained with what looked like a, er, male substance. The cold tap only worked if you pressed hard as you turned. The shower only worked on hot if your partner sat on the loo seat and held the button down for you. Not that the water was always hot. Nothing was done when all this was politely reported. The barman was rude (only the second rude person we came across). The doors to the bar and restaurant were left open on a cold night. (It is winter in the Southern Hemisphere.) The restaurant had long menus without prices - unless you threw a Miss Piggy style tantrum, and then a dog-eared one with prices appeared. The food in the  restaurant was cold, the breakfast no more than edible. (We actually walked down the road to the Holiday Inn to get a breakfast at the same price and not brilliant but much better.) So it was quite a relief to get into a taxi just before midnight to get the plane to Dar es Salaam. Where the hotel is lovely.