Harare: When you are not waiting!

Harare: when you are not waiting

We are based at Small World Backpackers, Avondale, which is a small suburb northwest of the city. From here we can walk to the shops at Avondale, which are quite pleasant, unless you get distracted whilst shopping for cheese. Avondale is a 20 min walk into town or a taxi ride for $5

The backpackers provides refuge for all sorts of travellers that are coming though Zimbabwe, and we have met lots of interesting people here. We have taken a room here, and enjoy the benefits of a real bed, and our own shower, and make good use of the kitchen but t $45 it isn’t the cheapest break.

We have visited the National Archives in the far northern suburbs, and for a person interested in the history of Zimbabwe, it is a must, Glen was in heaven. I, however, enjoyed looking at their comprehensive archive of photographs of ‘Old Zimbabwe’ when the colonials were here.

The Lion and Cheetah Park is a must see. It consists of 3 areas:

1. A small lion game park you can drive through that has 5 male lions in it. Here you literally have lions only a meter away from you, and you can really appreciate the size of these majestic beasts. Surrounding this area, are 2 other enclosures containing lions and lionesses.

2. Another game park, a kilometre long, containing zebras, wildebeests, ostriches, baboons, and a variety of deer.

3. Lastly, a zoo area.

Although, a bit dilapidated this is an amazing experience. We paid our entrance fee of $10, and made our way to the Lions. Windows firmly closed, we drove in through a rusty gate, and sat in the car next to these creatures. Wonderful. Huge lions with their red manes, just a breath away from us, going about their daily routine. Just an honour to be so close to such an amazing creature.

From there we made our way past the other lions to the game park. Ostriches running in front of us like drag queens late for their show, and a real zebra crossing. A small park, but great for viewing.

Then to the zoo. I am not too keen on zoos, but this privately own zoo is just so unique it is a must see. We were greeted by a friendly guide, who took us to meet Tommy, a Galapagos Tortoise who was approximately 300 years old, and who had been at the park for 45 years. As big as a coffee table, we were allowed to scratch his neck. He graced us with his company until he decided it was to time to go to bed, so he ambled off to his own ronval house and took to his bed.

We were then escorted through the zoo to meet the many residents: more lions, cheetahs, crocodiles, hyenas, jackels and much more. The animals here are hand raised, and many come from a disadvantaged backgrounds, for example the jackel was a victim of a hit and run, and came to the park to give it a second chance, as it sustained a leg injury, that would have surely marked the end of its days in the wild.

The lions are hand reared, so, they can be used for walking with lion’s tours, education, and movie work. We were fortunate enough to actually go in and meet two 11 month males; to get up so close is just so incredible.

Faradales, the Selfridges of Zimbabwe, was a bit of a disappointment. Once the flagstore of Zimbabwe, located in a lovely colonial building in the centre of Harare, it has been relocated to a suburban mall in Barrowsdale, and is hard to distinguish between any other camping/ shooting store. It was a pilgrimage for Glen as the legend that is John Simpson always goes there when he is in Zimbabwe to buy his shoes. So, off we went, and spent an afternoon in the suburbs. Barrowsdale is a glimpse into what Harare probably once was, clean, organised and predominately white.

Although we have been stuck in Harare, and are incredibly frustrated, we have met some amazing and positive people. Our troubles are so small in comparison to what they have all gone through. The hyper inflation of 2008 left so many with nothing, lives have been rebuilt, again and again. Hopes have been raised and dashed...but yet, the overall outlook is one of optimism. You walk down the street, and always are welcomed with a smile, and a greeting. When I tell people of Mum’s history here, and that we are going to Kariba, I have been again and again welcomed Home. Even yesterday our taxi driver implored us to come and live here, as ‘our country need people like you’. We pointed out that the current government weren’t too keen on the British, and he replied that his government, the peoples government wanted us there, which we thought was a lovely sentiment.

Zimbabwe!!! - Baboons and Baobabs

ZIMBAWBE BORDER – 18 JUNE
About 70 kms to the border and most obvious are the queues at the petrol pumps – obviously you’d best fill up prior to crossing over so we do. The border itself proves simple, in and out of the Moz side in minutes and then into the Zim side after only a few minutes of jostling about with tankers trying to force their way ahead in the bottleneck of the entrance. I enter with docs in hand and leave Clare to guard the truck as we’d done in Moz – though here there is nobody loitering about and police a’plenty so am confident vehicle security will not be a concern. Having filled out Visa applications for us both I arrive at the desk of the most stern-looking woman I have ever been confronted with. I smile, she scowls dismissively; I greet, she ignores. I hand over both applications and passports and she studies each carefully; on Clare’s she looks at the passport, then at the application, and demands “Who is this woman?” My wife. “Where is she?” In the truck I say, indicating, as it is parked in plain view of the door. “Did you sign this for her?” Yes. “Can she not write?” Uh, no, she can write. I am met with silence. Shall I bring her in? Silence, but she does scratch out my signature on her form (this is allowable on the Moz docs). I’ll go and get her then, shall I, going all schoolboy in the face of her unrelenting scorn. Silence. So go and get Clare, only to return and find the agent’s chair empty; she has obviously had quite enough of ridiculous tourists for today and has gone into the tea room adjacent, leaving passports and docs scattered on her desk. In her place though is the world’s friendliest guy, who cares not who signs what and Clare is shortly back out at the truck and I am lightened by 110 USD for both single entrance visas.
Next desk over for third party insurance and Temporary Import Permit; sorted quickly, as is the paying of all applicable fees totalling a further 55 USD. The issue is, however, nobody has any change and so we go round in circles for some time trying to put together the 15 USD I am owed (plus additional 50 Rand I am asked to throw in to try and make things easier by raising the amount of return required to a large bill not several small) – it takes two versions of a detailed funds-transfer diagram produced by all parties cooperatively to finally clarify what has been paid to whom and for what – and what has been returned as required - before I can leave assured all has come out on top (they insist I must not leave until I am clear so have no cloud of doubt about them in any way ...). All is laughs and smiles through it all though, no hassle at all just a bit of embarrassment on their part for not being able to cover the funds easily enough – especially with the lights going out repeatedly throughout the process, adding to the sense of folly and degraded states ...
In need of air for one of the tires we begin the fruitless search for a service station either a) still operating; or, b) with electricity to operate the pump. We pass a few very rudimentary stations: some with unleaded only, some with diesel only and many others, although open, having neither on offer ... At writing we’re now in Bulawayo and have still not found an air pump operating – it’ll have to be the compressor instead (with some degree of trepidation given first workings with it, and I will definitely be heaving it if it melts out the fuse again ...); diesel though is fairly prevalent now.
300+ k on and we arrive at the Great Zimbabwe Ruins campsite outside of Masvingo, having first driven through some of the most beautiful scenery along Lake Mutirikwi and across the Dam (where we come across a column of over a dozen vintage Mercedes Benz’s parked on the wayside and at the tail end of a 3 week circumnavigation of Zimbabwe). The campsite is operated by the national parks board the site and is fine, though with some fairly aggressive baboons and very cheeky Vervets who succeed in stealing my breakfast sandwich just prior to our departure after Clare turned her back for one second ... After setting up we are shocked at how quickly it becomes exceedingly cold, given how nice the day has been, and even though we have plenty of firewood provided by our guard – who will be sitting under a tree 100 yards away from us for the night – we are frozen by 1800 (I in thermal undershirt, light thermal second layer, quilted puffa jacket under windstopper fleece and hat and am shivering uncontrollably until I can stoke the flames up high enough to ward off the freeze ...). But it is World Cup and we must find it, so we trudge off to find the lodge, where we have been told at reception they will be showing England versus Algeria at 2000. We find not a lodge but a frozen night watchman under a tree, who on several takes of explanation finally gathers what we are asking about and ushers us into an empty guest cottage, where another watchman is set up on the couch with the game ready to go. Huge greetings, much laughing about why we would be out and about in such cold weather but we’re all soon set in and well into the spirit of it all together (though we do not find the local commercials near as funny as our new friend does, who gales, snorts and slaps his thigh through each one while we exchange quizzical glances ...).
After a surprisingly decent and warm in the tent night’s sleep huddled in thermals under a sleeping bag and poncho liner each we set off to explore the ruins (circa 1200-1500 AD) – the largest stone buildings south of the great pyramids of Egypt. Stunning; really, absolutely incredible, and a very well run site as well with informative guides available for 3 USD and an excellent, though small, supporting museum displaying just how extensive the trade routes through the area were at the time, with pan-African beads, European coins, Chinese pottery and Arab copperworks found in abundance.
Not willing to face another night’s freeze in the park we struck out at 1300 for Bulawayo, 280 km southwest, arriving at 1800 – in the dark, of course - after a great run through stunning scenery of baobab trees and bougainvillea bushes huge as the trees they stand beside and along perfect tarmac roads – marred only by the direct west route for the final 30 minutes into Bulawayo that places the setting sun directly into driver’s eyes and makes the road ahead disappear like some mean-prick-of-a-conjurer’s trick ...
There are two campsite options within town lines, and we chose Packers, a private house that allows both B&B as well as camping options (on the grass out front and in the gravel lot in back). At 10 USD pppn it’s a decent deal, with lovely lounge, kitchen and toilets/showers shared between all guests (how nice to be able to eat at a table!). Bulawayo itself proves very quiet on the Sunday when we head out, the streets pretty much roll up for the day with the exception of the numerous churches competing to send their sermonizing out into the masses, but it is lovely with many old colonial buildings still retaining some of their original charms despite looking a bit sad around the edges now, and the people all prove very pleasant and friendly ...