Our Zimbabwe dilemna

Three years ago whilst living in Francistown, Botswana I wasa regular visitor to Zimbabwe. Every other weekend my family and I would cross the border into Zims with groceries for our relatives. We did not cross the border exclusively to assist otehrs though; we crossed because we loved the warm welcome and happy atmosphere of Bulawayo. On our recent trip we didn't enter Zim. We received mixed advice about the wisdom of doing so. With the benefit of hindsight I think we should have have gone - to visit family but also to see for ourselves how things have changed. It was only the fear of harrassment from the police that detered me. I have always coped with it previously but this time I just felt I didn't have the patience to cope. The stories of people being strip searched at the border as official searched for illicit currency was off-putting as was stories of seven roadblocks between the Plumtree border post and Bulawayo. Next time I must bite the bullet though and cross the border...

Back to Africa

I'm heading back to Africa for the first time in over a year this summer. I can't wait! My wife, son and I are flying into Jozie before heading up through Bots and in Zed. We may venture into Zims but that will depend on the 'situation.' I would like to see how things have changed in the three years since I was last there. I know it'll be heartwrenching and I'll hear dreadful stories about peopleI've known well. The trouble is that when we used to travel to Bulawayo regualrly we had a bakkie but this time we will be relying on buses and lifts from friends. If we do go the Bulawayo then we have to have maize meal, sugar, cooking oil, salt etc. The people need these commodoties more than anything.

Everywhere we go I will be armed with my camera. I want to take hundreds of pics to publish with the stories that go with them. One of my regrets about my time living in Bots is that I never took enough photos. I will take photos of development as well as poverty; of people happy and prosperous as well as poor and repressed. The negative images of Africa that the Western media peddles sicken me. Of course there is poverty, sickness and repression across the continent but this is the only image of Africa most Europeans/North Americans have. I love showing my students at school pictures of modern Johannesburg and asking them where in the world do they think this city might be? New York, Chicago, Rome or Berlin are common responses. When I tell them that it's Johannesburg in South Africa their jaws drop!

Death without dignity in Zimbabawe

My friend's uncles story of his sons death was touching. As we sat around the fire he told me of his loss and his grief.

His son, Jacob, had been at the cattle post for about a week but had made his way back to the city due to his ill health. Apparently he had been ill several months earlier but had made a seemingly full recover (it's amazing how often I heard that at funerals!) Upon reaching home he could barely walk or talk so my uncle immediately drove him to the main hospital in Bulawayo. 

Jacob was obviously seriously ill and his father genuinely believed that the hospital would be able to help him. After all this was Zimbabwe - for so long the bread basket of Southern Africa. My friend's uncle knew only of a well resourced highly efficient hospital that served Bulawayo. He was broken hearted to find the hospital in a state of disrepair and filth. With no other option he checked Jacob into the ward. Jacob was taken for examination and was returned to the ward where his father awaited. He was then informed that unfortunately there was no medicine available and that all the hospital could do was place Jacob under observation. 

My friend's uncle was obviously shocked but said he felt that at least the authorities would be able to look after his son. He then asked the nurses for blankets to cover his shaking and desperately ill son. He was told that there were no blankets available and that patients had to supply their own blankets. He immediately drove home to get blankets but could not fathom how it could be that a hospital could not provide a desperately sick man with something to cover himself. When he arrived back he did his best to keep his son warm until in the early hours of the next morning Jacob passed away.

The Bulawayo funeral house

It was my first visit to my friend's family place. I had expected a fairly modest dwelling but I found them living in a large farmhouse on the outskirts of Bulawayo. The house was somewhat rundown on the outside but was very well kept internally. The warmth of the welcome I received was overwhelming especially given the circumstances - they had just lost their son! I arrived on a Saturday afternoon. The family had just returned from their church service (as 7th Day Adventists they worship on Saturday.). It was daylight but there was a nip in the air so the warmth of the fire was welcome. The grounds of the house were immaculately kept. Vegetables were growing and elsewhere the lawn was neatly mowed. If I hadn't had known better I would have thought the family to be quite prosperous. In fact they were well off not long before but Mugabe's tyranny, especially against the Ndebele people in Matabeleland, had made their saving worthless. My friend's uncle worked as an inspector of schools. A good well paid job in normal times but like any other Zimbabweans, outside of the Presidents inner circle, the family were living from hand to mouth.

He is an inspirational man though. Despite the hardships he was suffering, the economic ruin and mostly the loss of his son he refused to be downhearted. His faith in God obviously sustained him and his family - although they had many questions they wanted to ask God!

Death and hardship in Zimbabwe

One day whilst I was living in Francistown I received a phone call to tell us that one of my  friend's cousins had died in Bulawayo. The next weekend we crossed the border into Zimbabwe and headed to the house.

We crossed the border at Plumtree countless times. I'd often spend weekends in Bulawayo. Hotels were cheap. You'd change your Botswana Pula into Zim Dolars at the border and for what amounted to enough money for a few groceries in Botswana you could enjoy a great weekend in Bulawayo.

The border crossing was relatively painless. It was as frustrating at times but I was rarely harassed. To be fair the Zimbabwean officials treated me with great respect, despite my British passport, and I'd often face more needless bureaucracy when crossing back in to Bots - even with residence permits! On the odd occasion I had to pay tax on the groceries I was carrying. The tax was pittance but the delay caused by queuing to pay it was an unnecessary burden.

The groceries we carried were for people I knew in the Bulawayo area. Due to the ever worsening plight of the people of Zimbabwe it became increasing necessary for me to carry groceries including mealie meal, sugar, flour, cooking oil and salt every time I traveled. These commodities were unavailable in Bulawayo at that time. 

After crossing the border one would pull over into a lay-by where one would instantly be surrounded by dozens of young lads offering varying exchange rates for Botswana Pula. After making the trip several times I got to know a few of the boys and     I     always used the same ones when changing money. That way one could be sure to avoid the special branch officers who allegedly infiltrated the money changers. I'd pick up one of our lads at the border and drive slowly to Plumtree village, a few KM's away. As I drove i would sort out the exchange of currency with the lad. The system worked well and was safe. After the deal was done we'd drop the lad off at Plumtree village so that he could make his way back to the border. Using the parallel market became a perfectly natural thing to do and literally everyone from Botswana travelling into Zims did the same.