STARS!!!

JANUARY 2008

MALAWI AND ZIMBABWE

PHOTO?



We give ‘stars’ to people who do well in tests or places which are rated for a myriad of reasons. When John Simpson’s report about Zimbabwe was being aired on BBC World on my Hotel TV, it was suddenly blanked out and I was later told that it was not so much the Government which was objecting, but the Hotel being discrete because it is patronized by Mugabe-supporters. Do they deserve stars for being ‘good boys’? Or does Simpson deserve a star for ferreting out all the most disagreeable bits about the country he could find?

I was in a rush to get to South Africa due to time-shortages, so cut out Malawi (which I had often visited in the past, although the last time was in 1967) and flew from the spread-out capital city of Lilongwe to Harare, the equally modern and busy capital of Zimbabwe. Lilongwe had begun to prepare me for the many ‘westernised’ shops and eating outlets I would be seeing from now onwards. The busy streets of traffic and wide boulevards of both cities were quite a culture-shock.

As this was essentially the end of my trek, I decided to indulge in Harare’s best and famous Hotel: Meikles. It has a 5-star rating and for me, having started the New Year after sleeping on sacks of hard cassava in a dhow, it was as though the place had 10 stars! It was the chocolates on the pillow that did it….

Simpson probably stayed at Meikles, but did he mention it? With its excellent service and large spread of food in the remaining open restaurants one can just as well be in any luxury Hotel anywhere in the world. Did he go shopping in the mostly open and functioning shops where the stocks might be low (except for electronic dealers who had very active businesses) but where well-dressed people nevertheless browsed and bought? Did he witness the long queues of patrons day and night at the multi-screen cinemas? Looking for an Internet Café was like bumping into bookshops on the Charing Cross Road. Everywhere! Just like the fruit and other item sellers who have reappeared on the streets after their horrific removal a few years ago. People are friendly and resigned to doing slow but passable trade. At the bus-stations the busses and mini taxis were doing a busy trade and the streets were not overcrowded, but sufficiently busy to need their traffic-light controls. I had to double-take on seeing clean cars with only one driver and no passenger! Most of my African journey thus far has been in countries where a vehicle did not move until it was fully occupied and more. No doubt I missed Simpson’s photos of the very large but orderly queues at the Banks. It was the end of the month when salaries are paid in, new ZW$20,000,000 notes had been printed and it still takes a long time to count out the large stacks of money everyone has to carry about. I mention this because it is often annoying when only one side of an argument is shown to the world. The same kind of media coverage was done during the Apartheid years in SA and yet acceptable lives went on for very many people. The media only focuses on what is bad or unpalatable and this will make it more difficult for a country to recover once a new regime takes over.

Today the world thinks that Zimbabwe is not worth visiting. Yet my very short and limited visit there was filled with hospitality and good cheer. I walked the inner streets of Harare without fear and spoke to whomever I could. ‘Things are not as bad as a few months ago’ was the usual reaction to enquiries.

But I am not complacently denying what the outside world says. Of course things are in an unacceptable state. All I want is to ask tourists to return and see for themselves; to experience the great hospitality and friendliness of the people; to put their money into the hands of those who are suffering as a result of the lack of business; to defiantly show a politically corrupt nation that ordinary people matter and will survive long after they are overthrown.

An example of the corruption I speak of: The Manager of the Hotel Club took a fancy to me when I used his internet facilities and invited me for coffee early one evening. Delicious snacks were presented to me and the two men sitting around a low table with all the latest magazines. I chatted to the men and we did a bit of lighthearted bantering which continued when a very attractive and well-dressed lady appeared, introduced herself to me as Sharon and greeted them with kisses. I returned to a book and realized that this was a pre-arranged meeting. Talk was political. Sharon had been to a Political Rally that day and reported to the men. Then they discussed the need to motivate the youth of the country before the election. At 7.30pm I decided to leave them to it and as I left, Sharon good-naturedly called out to me, ‘By the way, Hilda, my surname is Mugabe”.

The next morning I was having breakfast in the Club Dining Room when the Manager came in. I asked him about the meeting and he said that the three had been there until nearly midnight. The two men are MPs and Sharon is the niece of Robert Mugabe. She wants to be a politician and the men wanted funds from her family connections with which to ‘bribe/motivate’ young people to vote for them. Trillions of ZW$ were discussed, I was told. What’s new?!

On the Sunday of my stay, I went to the Anglican Cathedral for the 11am service, hoping to meet the Acting Bishop and his wife (friends of a friend). They were there but understandably pre-occupied. The previous week a judge had solved a very divisive problem by deciding that the Acting Bishop and the dismissed incumbent Bishop were to share the Cathedral for their respective services. The latter is a traditionalist and strongly disagrees with the Archbishop of Canterbury who accepts homosexuality. He was sitting at the altar and the left side of the aisle was filled with his followers who started to sing loudly for nearly ½ hour. They were being ‘whipped-up’ and I would not say that any of the songs and chanting had anything to do with the Anglican service. Interestingly, some members of the Mothers’ Union in their blue and white ‘uniforms’ were supporting one side and others were supporting the other side. Eventually the Acting Bishop left where he was sitting in the back row with his wife and went forward to address his congregation on the right side. An argument arose between the two men, service papers were twice grabbed from the Acting Bishop’s hands and flung across the altar steps and voices were raised. Two policemen walked to the front of the nave and accompanied the two Bishops to the vestry. About an hour later I passed the Church Hall where a traditional Sunday Mass was being conducted. A temporary solution to an intractable problem.

By this time I had had enough and walked out with a retired ex-teacher called Heather who had been filling me in on the ecclesiastical row. We were the only white-skinned people there. Heather took me around the quiet cloister which in previous times was a repository of memorials for all the eminent white Rhodesians/Zimbabweans of the last century. Today all the hundreds of plaques have been removed (unless physically impossible) and a great part of history is lost. Heather, though, was like a Tourist Guide and despite the sadly empty spots, she could tell me where everyone had been commemorated and what they were famous for. She had also known virtually everyone thus lost to identity. A small pin on a bench where a few hundred brass plates had told a story, reflects where her brother, who died as a pilot in WW11, was commemorated.

Heather is one of those forgotten pensioners whose monthly Zimbabwean pension can ‘buy a loaf of bread’. Fortunately an organization called SOAP (Save our Old Age Pensioners) comes around twice a week and hands out food and other essentials. I was being patronizing, but as I had far too many boxes of antibiotics, bandages, envelopes and pencils etc, I invited her to my room to take these items to them. She knows Meikles well, but had never been to the rooms. Her life-style put her in awe of the endless, warm, strongly-flowing water, (“I will not flush the toilet to save water”), the great variety of unguents, soaps, writing materials, rolls of soft toilet paper, multi-screen TV, iced water, uninterrupted electricity and so on. The cleaning staff was passing the room and very generously gave her handfuls of soap, shampoo and toilet paper. I liked the way the black staff were happy to give to a white woman in need, although, at other times, I was frequently accosted by members of staff who wanted to tell me about how harsh conditions were and beg for money (I suspect it is a nice little earner). We made up two large bags of goodies and I accompanied her to her bicycle. Only then, when I saw her cardboard-box-covered bike, did I realize that her financial situation had turned Heather into a ‘bag-lady’ and I wondered whether any of those items will reach SOAP.

The overseas newspapers write of shortages, but nowhere did I see hungry people like I did in Ethiopia and when I went to a bakery shop late in the afternoon, I was told that there was no more bread that day, but plenty of buns, cakes, doughnuts, cupcakes, Madeira cakes and so on. OK, I am prejudiced and should be tied down… Just visit yourselves!

After four days in Harare and an 8-hour luxury (only people on seats allowed) bus-ride away, I was collected to stay on the ranch of friends. Once again I am prejudiced because my hosts are life-long Zimbabweans who know and understand the country very well. Despite having experienced all of the troubles reported through the international media, they have survived, live in harmony with squatters on their land and are being productive. Another 5-star place from which to celebrate the end of my trek! Five days later and we were over the border and in South Africa.

The Africanisation of this more-American-than-America country is also going at a pace, although one cannot see it when driving along wide tarred roads with thousands of cars bumper to bumper for hours. However, electricity blackouts have hit with a vengeance and it has given rise to many jokes. Perhaps you would like to hear this one?

Q: What is the difference between the Titanic and South Africa?

A: At least the Titanic had all lights blazing as it went down.




END OF BLOG ENTRIES UNTIL I GO TO SUDAN/EGYPT IN APRIL/MAY