Zimbabwe Absurdity

I have a good excuse why the blog has not been updated; power or lack of it. A cyclone hit south central Mozambique on Thursday and Friday afternoon the winds brought down a tree somewhere on the line which left us without power for 26 hours. The winds were truly spectacular so I’m surprised that there was relatively little damage. By yesterday evening there was a puddle under the freezer part of the fridge and Jenni’s food was distinctly smelly. She does not mind of course. 

Yes, I suppose I could have typed this up on my laptop with the assistance of the UPS plugged into the heavy duty truck battery but I still would not have had any internet connection until the mail server next door was turned on; it is also on a UPS and truck battery. Zimbabwe is replete with devices to keep the TV going, the computer online, the fridge cold. There are numerous vendors for generators, inverters etc. I have two UPS’s in my house, and fridge guards for protecting against low voltages and spikes. One can also purchase fax guards (spikes and high voltage) and devices to protect 3 phase motors from single phasing (only one phase working). Solar power does not seem to be that popular; I guess it is expensive and still not very efficient. 

Any serious function has a generator on standby, like the show I went to on Thursday night. A South African group called Barnyard Theatres put on a show of pop/rock/folk cover songs. It was a quite festive occasion, alcohol flowed aplenty and the group was good though their sound system was not up to their musicianship. The audience was almost entirely white which I suppose was not surprising considering the music style. There was one black/coloured singer in the band and good he was too. At one point the person sitting next to me turned to the person on my other side and said; “M, they could have told them that they didn’t have to have a token black in the band”. Oh, boy, we have a way to go.

This snail was on my rowing machine this morning. I didn’t recognize it as a snail until it started to move. I have never seen a yellow, transparent snail before. I am not sure what type of snail it is, I don’t have a book on snails so if anyone else has an idea of what it is (is this the immature form of something?) I would like to know. I moved it onto a rosebush that had sunlight on it for a better photo. This was the only one of about 15 that was technically good. I did prefer the composition of another but it was not totally in focus. There is a price to pay using a compact camera – depth of focus is very difficult to control.

I am sitting in the Mbare market, well maybe not THE market (apparently this one is called The Rocks for the large boulders in the centre). It is a dusty, dirty place. There are blocks of flats around the small market area, where the windows are missing they have been boarded up. we are waiting for a suspect that we picked up earlier; he has gone off to find the person whom he has indicated is selling stolen irrigation sprinklers that might have been stolen from my work premises. He is apparently related to this person. I am not at all sure why he will decide to shop his relative, but you never know. In the meantime I watch life go by in this area of Harare that I have never before seen.

There is a 7 tonne truck with a partly pulled back canopy some 20m away. People wander up to it and seem to buy and sell things, sugar and the like. It is well known that in Mbare anything can be bought at a price no matter how short it may be elsewhere. I have already been offered fertilizer which is short and I have seen at least one bag of it go by. A group of immaculately dressed school girls go by, white socks, shining shoes, blue skirts, white shirts and a blue striped tie. Not everyone is this smart and there are the usual squabbles of small boys, pinching, punching and kicking as small boys do everywhere.

I expected to see signs of deprivation and hunger but they are not obvious even if they are around. There is a large lady off to my left (I am sitting in a pickup, the detectives are doing a bad job of trying to look inconspicuous – suits and ties and smoking behind the pickup) selling a pitiful pile of some sort of small seed in a small conical dump on an upturned tin. There are tins of all descriptions everywhere. I cannot see any plastic containers but tins there are a plenty. Engine oil cans are the most popular, upturned as impromptu tables. Cooking oil cans are there too but I don’t see any plastic, maybe they are in use as household containers for the ever absent water. A large boulder off to my right has “Chemical Corner” painted on it. I don’t really want to know what sort of chemicals are sold there! Very little is happening, this is obviously not market hour.

Nobody is taking a blind bit of notice of me, I don’t seem to exist. I was quite surprised by this earlier when we called in at a house in another run down area of Mbare. A few people stared but no-one called out to the marungu (white man) in the pick up truck with the handcuffed suspects in the back. Like most whites in Zimbabwe, I am irrelevant.

A recently painted, shocking lime green Peugeot sedan goes past. There is a matching shocking green soft toy on the back shelf. I glance down at a dective’s diary on the seat beside me. It is a 2001 diary. I check the days and dates, they are the same as this year.

The suspect wanders back. Apparently his relative is not answering his cell phone. Right. We move onto another suburb and amazingly actually retrieve a length of flex for a submersible pump though it may not be ours. It’s really difficult policing without a vehicle, the detective says with a sigh as we drive into the police station. No kidding. So it falls to the victims of theft to carry the police around on a wild goose chase that took most of the day. I don’t think the “suspects” in handcuffs really minded. I guess it is not often that they get to ride around Harare in the relative comfort of a private pickup truck!

I found this jewel beetle (Family Buprestidae, probably Sternocera orissa) on a stem of grass while out for my evening walk with Jenni. It was difficult to photograph because every time I moved or put the camera near it, it would move around to the other side of the grass blade. Even relatively small movements of my head would have it moving in the opposite direction! I eventually got around the problem by holding the grass with my left hand and using my camera in the right. It is not ideal; really a tripod is needed for this type of photo because the focusing becomes critical the closer one is to the subject. My camera is a little 5 mega pixel Canon Digital Ixus 500 but it has a remarkably good macro feature. I bought it in Germany in June 2004, the current model already has 10 mega pixels! I would love to upgrade to a SLR but the piggy bank is a bit lean at the moment. Never mind, I still have fun.

I walked past where the skeleton of the heron lies (see earlier blog “A Dead Heron”). There are still some feathers and a few bones to be seen if one moves aside the cluster of cosmos growing there. It is easy to see where it is; the cosmos is much greener than those on either side and about 100% taller. Ashes to ashes, bones to fertilizer.

I was sent an obituary this week of a white South African historian, David Rattray, who was murdered recently. There was no apparent motive. It’s a depressingly familiar scenario – in excess of 2000 white farmers have been murdered in South Africa since 1994. David Rattray was a historian though and immensely popular within and outside South Africa. Aware that this was a high profile case the authorities “moved quickly” and there have been 2 arrests. I am not sure how this bodes for the image of the World Cup in 2010. I can imagine the criminal element is overjoyed at the potential bonanza. I suppose I should clear up a point here; I am not saying that there is no crime in Zimbabwe, of course there is and plenty of it too. The crime in Zimbabwe is rarely very violent i.e. fatal.

Some years ago a friend of mine was pulled out of her car at her parents gate one evening and the criminals made off with it. She got slapped and pushed into a ditch. In South Africa the consequences of car-jackings are frequently fatal. I did hear of a more serious attempt while attending a pre-New Year’s Eve lunch. A friend of a friend was recounting how some months previously she was attacked by her gardener’s son and she stupidly resisted. Things got serious as he tried to cut her throat with a bread knife (for some reason she regarded this as funny, no-one else did). She then gave up and he tied up both her and her son in a room that did not lock. They promptly untied each other and she called the quick reaction squad (private security company, the police in Zimbabwe rarely react never mind quickly) who arrested the miscreant on their way to the scene as he tried to climb over a wall – they thought he was behaving suspiciously. This may sound appallingly violent to most First World readers but the truth is it is rare and fatalities are extremely rare. You could say Zimbabwe is to South Africa as Canada is to the USA. And by the way NEVER call a Zimbabwean South African!  We may sound similar but THAT’S IT!

A friend of mine attended his niece’s wedding in Durban over Christmas. While he was there a cruise ship called into Durban and two mini bus loads of tourists went off to visit the renowned aquarium. Both buses were ripped off before they arrived at the aquarium. The ship’s captain vowed that they would definitely not be back. Yet Zimbabwe gets a much worse press than South Africa. Somehow state sponsored crime is more newsworthy, I suppose I am not too surprised.  But yes, with the declining economic situation in Zimbabwe the crime is becoming more and more common. We have just been ripped off at work of 2 electric pumps, a borehole pump, various tools and money. The thieves gained access to the storeroom and office from a brightly lit area and also attempted various other rooms. The 3 security guards we hired (past tense) had no idea how it happened! We have had an ongoing petty crime problem since we hired these guards. I leave you to draw the conclusion. The police were politely interested but admitted that they were overwhelmed. So, we will try another more “professional” organization. With a dog. I live in hope.

It finally happened; today I bribed a police officer. In my defense I would like to point out that he suggested the bribe, I did not offer it. Yes, it rankles a bit but this is Zimbabwe and one has to be pragmatic.

In a civilized country I would have got away with it I think. To stop at the intersection on the change of the light to orange would definitely have left rubber on the road. No, I was not speeding so I was a bit perplexed when he indicated that I was to pull over. No, they were not giving out fines anymore as it was not working. They were confiscating driving licences instead and you had to go to court to get it back. That’s if the magistrate did not decide to confiscate it (for going across an orange light?). I was then informed that this was all to try and reduce the accident rate in Zimbabwe because people were getting killed etc. etc. etc. It did occur to me to point out that a lot more could be done to curb accidents by clamping down on drink driving, unroadworthy vehicles and minibuses that pullover wherever they like, frequently right ON corners! I could see it was wasted, this was fait accompli. I listened to the patter, it was well rehearsed. I wondered at what stage I should suggest a deal and then thought I did not want to get done for bribing a police officer too. Then it came; we are caring about people about you, we do understand. Right. Just a bit more patter and then – we can do something if you are in agreement. We both knew that he had me exactly where he wanted me. Could I really afford going to court to get my licence back? Would it really get confiscated? Of course I was in agreement. Fine, then I should fold ZW$100000 tightly behind my driver’s licence which he handed back to me and then give it back. I duly complied and watched how he masterfully handled the licence so that an approaching pedestrian could not see it. No amateur this guy! But what of the form that he’d been filling in? Oh that would be taken care of, and it was cancelled in front of my eyes. I did notice that carbon paper was conspicuously absent and I could not see if there were serial numbers on the page. It was not the usual “Admission of Guilt” form that accompanies the speed fining system. Was the whole thing a scam? I don’t know. He did OK out of it though. $100000 (about US$20) is probably half of what he earns in a month.

In a way I can understand why they do it. The police are poorly paid and with inflation topping 4000% they must find it very difficult to not jump at money making “opportunities”. And this month the inflation is going to be a record beater. I mentioned in a previous post that the head of the Reserve Bank had given his year end plan and report. Included was a “Social Charter” which includes, amongst other things, a three month price and wage freeze from March to May. The obvious has happened; prices have gone up in some cases 1000% to last through the price freeze e.g. yesterday a local fertilizer company raised the price of a premixed soluble fertilizer from $1800/2kg to $22000/2kg (divide by around 5000 to get the US dollar price, today only).

On page 88 of the February 2007 issue of National Geographic there is a photograph of Port Harcourt in southern Nigeria. It is a shanty town by any description; filthy, rundown, corrupt. But in the middle distance there are 2 structures with satellite TV dishes on them. They look genuine – they are both pointing in the same direction though I suppose there is nothing to say that they are connected to anything inside.

I don’t have satellite TV though it is easily available in Zimbabwe. I suppose I could afford it (foreign currency only please!) if I really thought it worthwhile but past experience showed that there was frequently nothing to watch on the 80+ channels and I have better things on my wish list.

The article describes the appalling corruption that oil money has brought Nigeria and how the very few have got very wealthy. It is worth a read as it clearly illustrates the corruption endemic that is the scourge of Africa. Yes, of course it exists elsewhere but in Africa it is particularly destructive, and dare I say it, even admired.

Let me give an example from Zimbabwe. Last week the Finance Minister, Gideon Gono, gave his year end (a bit late) policy speech. Now with inflation exceeding 2000% and the black market exchange rate doubling in 10 days you could have been forgiven for thinking that something radical was in the offing. Apparently not. I happened to pick up a copy of his address whilst waiting somewhere. I did not bother reading more than an excerpt which from memory stated that “… we are pricing ourselves out of the tourism market. When you look at the price of a bottle of water, using the official exchange rate of ZW$250 to US$1, it costs US$10! Etc….”  The obvious thing to do would be to bring the “official” exchange rate into line with the black market rate which is currently around ZW$5000 to one US dollar. No. It has not been moved. I did not trust myself to read further, it is illegal in this country to criticize the president, the police and who knows who else and why push the blood pressure up unnecessarily. Anyway, why should Comrade Gono (yes, the socialist title is still used here and I believe in Cuba) change the rate when it is so easy (for the connected) to get wealthy. Hear is how it is done; buy US1000 for 250000 Zim dollars at the official rate (a toilet roll is ZW$4500 – today’s price). Sell it on the parallel market (politically correct term for black market) at x20 the official rate and go back and get US$20000 from your contact the Reserve Bank. Repeat twice and become a real millionaire. Obviously you could not do this straight off but the point is made – why change they system? For a paltry sum you too can join the waBenzi (as they are known in South Africa for the Mercedes Benz cars that they drive).

Sadly being ostentatious is all the rage in Zimbabwe and I presume in other parts of Africa. It’s not how wealthy you ARE, it’s how wealthy you APPEAR that is important. I can remember many years ago as a child, asking my father why the black labourers on the forestry estate where I grew up did not wear shorts. Men wear trousers, boys wear shorts was the reply. Even to this day I wear shorts whenever possible; we live in a warm climate so I just don’t see the point of trousers. Even as a child I was struck by how well the blacks in general dressed, and to a large degree they still do dress well, though with the harsh economic climate it is slightly less noticeable and I do see men wearing shorts more though I suspect these are those who are following western fashion and ironically, are more able to afford good clothing. At about the same time as I asked my father this the directive came down from the head office that labourers had to be offered the choice of getting paid cash instead of the weekly rations (meat, tea, maize meal, salt and sugar) that made up a part of their wage.  The men voted for money, the women for rations. It is a male dominant society so the rations were discontinued. I was also disappointed. I loved the smell of the shed where the rations were stored and especially the foil lined tea chests (must have been a boy thing). I also loved digging around under old sacks but became a bit more circumspect when I pulled back an interesting looking sack and was confronted by a cow’s head. Oh yes, they eat everything, my father confirmed.

One of the more painful things one has to endure about living in Zimbabwe is saying goodbye to friends who for a variety of reasons, often economic, find it impossible to stay in the country.

Yesterday, Fred, an oldish customer of 70 odd, called by to drop off an old paraglider of his son’s and say goodbye. Both he and his wife had decided that they could no longer realistically get by in Zimbabwe’s deteriorating economy and were going “back” to the UK. I put back in quotes because after 45 years in a country it really becomes your home. I could see Fred was not at all happy with the prospect but he is luckier than most in that he does have a bolt hole to head for and he and his wife will get looked after even though he is used to working for his living – the idea of drawing the dole or pension or whatever state assistance he will be entitled to was deeply disturbing. It’s a funny thing with us older Zimbabweans, we were brought up to understand that you work for your living and only once you had earned your pension could you feel entitled to it.

Fred and I are not close friends but he is such a nice, gentle guy that I could not help but feel sad for him and more than a bit depressed that yet another “Zimbo” was abandoning the obviously sinking ship! He lost his farm in a particularly unpleasant manner some years ago. They were farming about 1/2 hr out of Harare to the north on a model farm that he’d built up over the years. I remember going through a cotton crop that was truly spectacular an complimenting him on it. He was justifiably proud of it. When the time came to go they were given 2 hours to pack up and get off. A lot of personal belongings had to be left and the invasion was immaculately timed to allow the invader to reap the potato and soya crops with negligible input and take over a fully functioning dairy. The new “owner” went up to Fred’s eldest son, snatched the Leatherman multitool off his belt and said “Mine!” I have that snippet first hand. There was nothing the son could have done, the snatcher was surrounded by goons.

Fred’s parting comment to me was, “You know, I came out to this country 45 years ago with nothing, and now I’m going back to the UK with nothing”.  He is not the only one.

I have a customer who owes me quite a lot of money (by Zimbabwe standards). He came and bought two batches of seedlings some 8 weeks ago and neglected to pay for them. Could he bring the cheques tomorrow? Yes, of course he could. I had no reason to believe that he would not do so and besides, business is bad so it helps to humour customers. The cheques eventually arrived some 2 weeks later after much badgering. They both promptly bounced. That should not have happened he said, there should have been money in the account. By now I’d made a few enquiries around town and it had been revealed that he’d done the same with other nurseries, so when he promised to bring cash around the next day I was more than a little skeptical. It has yet to arrive.

The customer probably never had the money (in that bank account) in the first place. But he knows that if he can keep me and the debt collectors at bay long enough he can get the cash from selling the crop for which has not paid and pay off his debts. With inflation running at around 2000% he will pay a fraction (in real terms) of what he would have paid had he done so on time (It would take at least 2 months to get the debt collectors into action). He then might have enough money next time around to pay cash up front for the crop (no-one will touch him unless he does) and he will have established himself. Maybe.  Yes, I will deal with him again if he brings cash up front. He knows that we are pragmatic and will not turn definite (this time) business away. He is not the first to do this and I’m sure he will not be the last to at least try it.

There is a skeleton of a heron just outside the fence of my house. I noticed the corpse a few days after the bird must have died, crumpled pathetically under the tree which had been its last roost. There was no sign of foul play that I could ascertain; after all, some things DO terminate naturally in this part of the world!

The corpse is on a short walk around the cluster of four houses on the promontory where I live. I often take Jenni for a short walk around the houses and though it would take most people about 10 minutes, it takes me a fair bit longer because of my disability and the rapidly growing grass and weeds. So I have been watching the corpse become a skeleton and a pathetic pile of feathers, no longer the glorious, streamlined bird that it once was.  Yesterday I noticed that the grass around the skeleton was noticeably greener from the nutrients that had leached out and recognized a metaphor for Zimbabwean agriculture. Yes, it is also a skeleton of its former magnificence, an exporter to the region, and yes the region is now a bit greener, benefiting from the skills that have migrated outwards.  It is only the grass and emerging cosmos immediately around the skeleton that has benefited and of course the effect will not last long. Maybe the skills of those who migrated will benefit the region for a bit longer.

On a lighter note; I picked up the skull and beak a couple of days back, they are a bit grubby and in need of bleaching. I remember from school biology that we used hydrogen peroxide for the purpose. I wonder what the reaction of the local pharmacy staff will be when I ask if they have any! I think I’ll have to milk that one for all the entertainment I can get! I am really not sure what I’ll do with the bones, maybe I’ll transfer them to the wooden stork I bought on the Kariba road in September. It fell over the other day and lost its head. Maybe a grey heron skull would suit it better than the less than perfect gluing job I did.