Arrival to Zimbabwe

“I’ll tell you what, these people can do anything if they put their mind to it”.
We drive past a once tall public light pole, now rusted and bent nearly parallel to the ground.
“They can break anything if they want to.”
We swerve to miss a pothole and narrowly miss a massive lorry barreling down the two lane road.
“I’ll tell you, if anyone wants to test how long something can last, just send it to Zimbabwe and the people here will find a way to destroy it. If it lasts, then you know you have a good product!”
A several hundred pound re-bar enforced cement rubbish bin lies over turned in the center divider.

This was my welcoming scene to Zimbabwe, and yet I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Comparing the sprawling brown veld laced with decaying highways to the comparatively squeaky clean roads of the 110 to LAX, I became aware at just how raw life is here when compared to the manicured suburbia I had just left.

Monday night at 10:45 PM, our flight had left from LAX for a red eye flight to DC. Flying then on Ethiopia Air, we had flown from DC to Rome where we refueled at bright eyed and bushy tailed time of 12:30 AM. (On the way to Rome we flew over France the night before Bastille day which was a blast as we watched hundreds of firework shows from 33,000 feet in the air.) From Rome we flew over the Mediterranean over parts of Tunisia, Egypt, Sudan and transferred in the beautifully green Ethiopian capital of Addis Ababa (Elevation 7,700 feet- who knew?!). From “Addis” we flew south over Kenya, Tanzania (saw Kilomanjaro shrouded in clouds), Zambia, Malawi, Mozambique and finally entered Zimbabwe where we flew over a golden brown canvas of dry grasslands with creamy dollops of puffy clouds stretching to the horizon.

Thus, four flights, three continents, two hair-raising layovers and 1 solid day of travel later, we arrived at the Harare International airport in one piece and miraculously, all our luggage made it with us. (Go TSA Luggage Locks!)

While the term “International Airport” might imply to the average American a mega-structure filled with thousands of people, the Harare Airport has just two baggage claim carousels, and even less operating bathrooms. Even when the bags began to come out of the ramp, the carousels came to a grinding halt every so often as the airport suffered from random powercuts. Add that to the fact that the four visa officers had to wait on eachother to process travelers because they were using the single piece of carbon paper between them, and you had a classic Sub-saharan attempt at modernity. Luggage in tow, we passed under the smiling image of President Mugabe as he gazed over probably the only semi-functional public facility in the country.

Bob and Kean met us and took us to the indestructible Toyota Venture where we loaded our luggage and began the drive home. First thing Mikaela did was to ask to drive the car home, which made me cringe a bit as she hadn’t driven here for quite some time! We agreed to let her drive when we got closer, but first we had to find enough petrol to even make it home. Two non-functioning petrol stations later, we finally found a place with fuel to sell, and we were on our way. Not before long, Kaela was at the wheel mistaking the “windscreen wipers” for the “indicators”.

Rule #1 in driving in Zimbabwe: Drunks are the only ones who drive in straight lines. As we drove into Chisipite, the potholes made the driving more like an ultimate game of 4X4 off-road hopscotch. Swerving into oncoming traffic, avoiding the ditches on the left side of the road, Kaela drove brilliantly all the while operating the clutch, gas and brakes with the opposite feet and hands. When we pulled into the gate and drove within the 10 foot walls around the Lane’s home, I was glad we had made it safe. Images of the green sprawling gardens bathed in easy going sunlight contrasted sharply with the first time I came here two years ago. Which brings me to
Rule #2, Lock your windows and doors when driving at all times, and Rule #3, don’t stop at stoplights at night. Arriving last time with my laptop and passport stolen, I was very happy this time to not only make it with my citizenship but my clothing as well!

Greeting us at the house was Janet and Esther, the Lane’s two live in maids and Nyasha, the full time gardener. When I say live in, I mean they live on the Lane property with their families in homes built on the 1.5 acre lot. They cook, clean, and garden for the Lane’s while the Lane’s provide for the servant’s children and schooling fees. Mikaela sees Janet like a mother as she has known her since Mikaela was 5. Zim wouldn’t be home for Mikaela without Janet and Esther as a major part of it

We spent the rest of the day cleaning up, saying hi to visitors who dropped by, and enjoying the best Macaroni and cheese I’ve ever had. (The secret is making two different cheese sauces from cheddar and mozzorella, and layer the two with tomatoes and thick bacon. Top with cheese, toast till the top is brown, and voila.)

I will try to write more soon, but until more from “the left side”,

Take care,

Christian