The advantages of differently-abled

25 02 2015

Some years back, whilst working in the U.K., I noticed that the word “disabled” was out of fashion. One, and that included me, was “differently-abled”. Hopelessly PC of course and complete nonsense. Differently abled implies that the person afflicted has abilities that others might desire. Right. Hands up all those who might want to fall over more easily. But that’s in the real world. Zimbabwe of course is in another world where these rules don’t always apply and having a disability CAN actually be advantageous.

My Zimbabwe passport expires in April and I’d been procrastinating getting it renewed. It’s been 10 years since I’d jumped through hoops and endured the queues at Makombe Building but things have slowed down a bit at work, my presence is not constantly required there and really I’d run out of excuses. All attempts to download the renewal form on the internet had failed (I’d enlisted the help of others too) and noting that they were open on Saturdays and also having heard that Saturdays were not that chaotic, decided to give it a go. It was inauspicious.

Parking on the street and getting the usual “I’ll look after your car boss” from a hawker of passport folders, I walked in. Having ascertained that Room 3 was the place to buy an application form I discovered that there was no queue. I also discovered that I couldn’t in fact buy a form ($3) until I’d had all my other identification documents certified (birth certificate and National ID) and those offices were closed on a Saturday. I’d have to wait until Monday and come back or get the form from a sub-office in Mount Pleasant (a suburb closer to where I live).

Monday found me at the sub-office in Mount Pleasant. Unfortunately I needed the original of my birth certificate and my ID to purchase the renewal form. Yes, if the internet download site had been working I could have done it for free without any documents! But nobody could tell me why it was not working. I returned later in the week and got the form but ascertained that I needed a new computerised birth certificate and that would require a visit to Market Square in the CBD of Harare. Now I have driven past Market Square and it is straight out of Dante’s Inferno, but with Zimbabwean flavour. Rubbish, touts and endless queues dominate the scenery. I shuddered, was there perhaps another way? Of course there was! An official offered for the princely some of $20 to acquire it for me. It was a no-brainer as the Americans call it. I paid and collected later the next day.

Back to the Makombe building later the next week I mentally fortified myself for long queues and delays. I was pleasantly disappointed. Fast tracked through the first queue due to my disability and not actually finding any other queues to jump, I soon found myself back at Room 3. No, I did not need to buy an application form. But how much did I want to pay for the passport? What, I have a choice? Of course there is a choice; $50 for 6 weeks, $250 for 3 days or $350 for the same day! No, 2 weeks is not an option. Not at all stupid are the Registrar General’s office. They know which option most people are going to opt for and yes, I paid the $250. After only an hour in the Makombe building I walked out assured that my passport would be ready on Monday.

I told the story to Shelton (en Francais). He was more than a bit cynical and told me he knew someone who paid the $250 and it took 4 weeks. In fact another friend who’d paid the $53 ($3 for the form) got it in 2 weeks. I settled down to wait but with a bit of hope as I’d been pleasantly surprised at how well things had gone. It had not been the Makombe building of old.

Yesterday I got a SMS – my passport was ready! Fortuitously I needed to go into town so enlisted the use of a driver from the National Ballet office – parking can be chaotic in that part of town. The parking was easy, the queue formidable and no officials around to fast track me. I guess I will go back this Saturday.





A nice idea

3 02 2015

Towards the end of last year Zimbabwe was abuzz with the news that bond coins were going to be introduced. The news was not well received and, despite strong denial from the Reserve Bank, rumours abounded that it was an attempt by the government to reintroduce the Zimbabwe dollar. I had seen one or two but up until today had not actually received any as change.

Small change

Small change

Small change is in notoriously short supply in Zimbabwe. South African coins (2 RAND lower right) have been useful in that they are roughly 1/10 the value of a dollar (so the 2 RAND coin is valued at 20c) but obviously they have to be bought at least the face value plus some sort of commission. The bond coins, which are minted in South Africa, are pegged at equal to the US dollar though they have no value outside the country. They certainly cost less to produce than their face value. A nice idea and certainly preferable to receiving ball point pens or sweets as change which was the case. People receiving lots of coins, such as the mini bus drivers, can go and change the coins at the end of the day for paper money at a bank. Except, as Shelton tells me, most refuse to accept them.





The owing circle

30 12 2014

Mr D is an old and reliable customer of mine. Yes, he sometimes owes me money but he always pays, eventually. That’s more than I can say for a number of other customers who start off well and then after a number of years just never return whilst owing money. My outstanding debtors list is depressingly long.

Mr D’s wife phoned yesterday – she was not happy. I have a large order of tomato seedlings for her husband that are ready to go and she had no way of paying for them. It transpired that she (I gather she is the money manager in the business) was owed some $100,000 by the Grain Marketing Board (the GMB is a government-owned parastatal) for maize delivered to them last year and a sizable amount by Olivine Industries for whom they’d grown a lot of tomatoes last year. While I wasn’t particularly interested in who owed Mrs D money I had to admit the reality of the situation; they weren’t able to pay me either. She had paid a 50% deposit on the order and I couldn’t realistically sell the tomatoes to another customer so I reluctantly said that she could collect the seedlings. I gave strict instructions to the clerk not to issue an invoice on the collection, just a delivery note, so that I did not have to pay tax on a transaction for which I’d received no money (the tax department always wins).

Driving home I reflected it was just as well that Olivine Industries did not take up on the quote I’d given them earlier in the year to grow a very large quantity of tomato seedlings. I also established that Mr D was not growing the current crop for Olivine either so I guess there is a realistic chance that I’ll get paid, eventually.





Smart phones, dim screens

18 12 2014

I was thinking just recently what a good phone my Sony Xperia Z1 has been. Not the latest and greatest for sure but reliable and very useful even in Zimbabwe’s increasingly wired environment. Absolutely not thanks on the latter to the government. I use WhatsApp all the time, the camera phone to capture Zak doing daft (and not so daft things) as well as problems in the nursery and when overseas the Maps app to find my way around. Maps also works pretty well in Harare too.

So it was with more than a touch of annoyance last night that I discovered that the screen had cracked in my pocket, no doubt caused by a large bunch of keys. The phone has become more than a touch erratic and sometimes I cannot even unlock the screen pattern. The Sony is not a popular brand here so screens are not available and it’s going to take a while to get another from Amazon. In the meantime I must either get another smart phone (limited choice here) or try and find the battery for my old Nokia which also has a broken screen but works just fine.

So when is someone going to invent a more durable smart phone screen, or have I missed the point?





Their heroes and mine

11 08 2014

It’s Heroes Day today, a public holiday when we are supposed to remember those who died in the liberation struggle for Zimbabwe. This is nothing unusual; the war dead are remembered in various ways all over the world. At the time of the so called liberation struggle I was in the Rhodesian Army and did not see those against whom I was fighting as liberating anything. That could just be a point of view I guess – one man’s terrorist is another’s freedom fighter and all that. Except for the fact that over the years a number of the ruling party faithful have been interred in Hero’s Acre (the national cemetery) who status as heroes are dubious. Others who should have been buried there were left out. There is a certain financial incentive to being a national hero in that the family remaining get a substantial pension.

Anyway, like I said, today is the day that Zimbabweans are supposed to remember the fallen. There are celebrations all over the place and earlier this week I had a request from a local farmer for donations towards the party to be held today on his farm where the local branch of ZANU-PF, the ruling party, has its office. I ignored it, after all, they are not my heroes. I was hoping to be able to tell him this in person but aside from two missed calls yesterday morning from a local number that I did not recognise, nothing has come to pass. Yet.

Seedlings of course don’t take holidays so this morning I went into work to see how things were going. Fine of course. It was also an opportunity to catch up on a bit of work as I will be away for 3 weeks at a horticultural congress in Brisbane, Australia. It was worth it on another count as I spotted this spider on a daisy.

Hey, I'm with stupid!

Hey, I’m with stupid!

 

I have seen this type of spider on cosmos and it was white to match the flower. I wonder if they have the ability to change colour depending on the background or they have to spend their life on the plant to get the right colour? It was pure luck to see it with a fly as when I took the first photo it was just patiently waiting.

Of course I didn’t have my big SLR with its very special macro lens so my cellphone had to do – I was quite impressed with the result.

Tomorrow is another public holiday – this one is Armed Forces Day. It is traditional for the president to address the crowds at the National Stadium just outside town and watch military parades and a flypast by the Air Force with the 4 lonely remaining fast jets that are still flying. There is a football match afterwards to help pull in the crowds. Whether the armed forces will be celebrating remains to be seen. Rumours are rife that they have not been paid and junior officers have been sent on forced leave to cut costs.

So who are my heroes? They are the firefighters who went back into the damaged reactor at Chernobyl, knowing full well that they would not survive. They are the firefighters who went into the Twin Towers after the 9/11 attacks knowing that they were going into a hideously dangerous situation because that was their job. They are those who work for MSF and the International Red Cross and without fanfare get on with the thankless task of helping Ebola victims (and others) survive. These are the people I admire.





Lest we forget

5 08 2014

As I write this it’s the 100th anniversary of the start of World War 1. I have a very tenuous link to it; my paternal grandfather was killed at the Somme in 1917.  Of course I never knew Lionel Roberts and neither did my father. In fact my father was born in 1925 some 8 years after Lionel’s death and his real father’s name does not appear on his birth certificate. My sister noticed this and asked my mother about it but she clammed up; some things were just not discussed. Us siblings were intrigued – a SCANDAL in the family, now that was something to boast about! However, my mother died with her secret and now there is no-one else alive who knows the answer. One day I plan to visit Lionel’s grave and pay my respects to him – the “grandson” he never knew who also payed a high price for being a soldier.

In August 1987 I knew none of this and was cycling through northern France on a 20 pound bicycle purchased off a hostel warden in Whitechapel, London. Northern France is littered with cemeteries of all nationalities. Most are pretty nondescript but the American cemetery at Verdun is an exception. I lost the photo but I can still recall the softly rustling oak trees, the brilliant green grass in the morning sunshine and the sad lines of white crosses stretching off in all directions. It was terribly peaceful. The Americans do cemeteries well and this was one of them.

I don’t recall the poppies in the wheat fields on that trip but in 2010 I was back in France trying to salvage a failing relationship (I failed) and we stopped near a field of poppies bobbing peacefully in the wind. The photos still exist on a hard drive somewhere but were not that good.

poppy2This morning in the nursery there was this poppy growing near the ponds of tobacco seedlings. I have no idea how it got there – maybe a seed crop from last year but I cannot recall seeing poppies there. It had a flower on it last week but today was another fresh one, coincidentally recalling a terrible war long ago and far away. In London tonight lights will be extinguished throughout the capital and replaced with candles in remembrance of the 888,246 British fatalities.

There is an irony in this short tale. The war dead from the Rhodesian bush war, in which I was involved, are not officially remembered within the country. That is the dead whom were fighting on the side of the Rhodesian forces. A number of memorials exist outside the country but within the country they are not welcome. However, next Monday, 11th August, is a national holiday. This is Heroes Day to celebrate those that died fighting for Robert Mugabe and Joshua Nkomo – fighting against the Rhodesians. Such is the price one pays for losing a war – the winners get to rewrite the history. One day maybe we’ll get the right to officially remember our dead but in the meantime turn off your lights, light a candle and remember those who paid the ultimate price in the “war to end all wars” that started 100 years ago.





It’s the small things

28 06 2014

I felt absurdly pleased with myself. A whole $100 in NEW dollar bills! Now THAT was something to feel good about. But it had taken a bit of doing.

Dollar notes in Zimbabwe (the US type, our dollars disappeared towards the end of 2008 in a deluge of hyper inflation) are notoriously dirty and not that easy to come by. I keep the worst to give to the toll gates who cannot refuse them and really don’t have the time to quibble either. So when I find a source of them I exploit it. Like my local pharmacy where I deliberately hand over larger notes than necessary to get clean dollars back. Then I started to get suspicious; the pharmacy ALWAYS seemed to have new dollar notes.

Karyn looked slightly embarrassed “We get them from CBZ”.

“But also bank there and I can never get them”.

Now she looked a lot more embarrassed “Actually we don’t even bank there, we just go and get the change at lunch time”.

I pounced on this clue and called in to get the wages in the afternoon after gym. The teller gave me my breakdown but had only a few $5 notes.

“You can give me all the smaller stuff in ones if you like” I added helpfully (and hopefully).

She pulled out a bundle of truly revolting notes. I made a face.

“I will see what else we have” she said and went off and came back with a bundle of new $1s. Delighted I gathered up the stack of notes and asked for a rubber band (rekken in local lingo).

“Are you always needing new notes?” she asked.

“Oh yes please!” I responded. And another bundle of new dollar notes magically appeared.

Suddenly the afternoon looked really good.

 

I love the web address!

I love the web address!

Crisp and clean - not for long!

Crisp and clean – not for long!





The law and the numbers

3 03 2014

“Chinamasa’s Job on the Line” blared the title page of the Financial Gazette, the weekly financial newspaper, on sale yesterday. Now the newspaper billboards in this country are as about as misleading as anywhere but the FinGaz or Pink Paper (the cover is printed on pink newsprint) is a little less sensationalistic than the rest of the competition and it does like to take itself a bit more seriously. So I bought a copy at the traffic lights (I made sure other vehicles could get past) and well, I needed some paper to start the braai (barbeque).

Patrick Chinamasa is the current Minister of Finance who has the unenviable job of finding enough money to keep the government running when it is obviously broke. Apparently President Mugabe had told him if he wasn’t up to the job he’d find someone else to do it.

Chinamasa’s background is not in finance. I’m not sure what history is but he certainly had an easier run in his former portfolio as the Justice Minister. Mind you, it’s easy to run a ministry like that when you control the police so you effectively ARE the law. Paradoxically the previous finance Minister was Tendai Biti who actually is a lawyer and did a good job with extremely limited resources.

The FinGaz also notes that Chinamasa came back empty-handed from a recent world tour to source finance for the beleaguered government. No real surprise this as apparently potential investors are concerned about the 51% law which requires all Zimbabwe companies to have a majority indigenous shareholder. Despite being born here I am not indigenous – all locally born blacks are considered indigenous as is anyone born after independence in 1980. Well, Comrade Chinamasa likely has an insurmountable problem ahead of him. The laws of economics (which is just a branch of mathematics) are inviolate unlike his previous ministry where the law was wide open to manipulation and interpretation. And even our good friends the Chinese don’t want to help out.





The power and the cheese

26 02 2014

I am feeling rather pleased with myself. Almost smug. The power has been off for most of the day and there is no sign that it will come back on so I have made a plan for the evening. A combination of no lights, a clear sky and a full moon makes for good stargazing conditions and it’s about time I checked on the binoculars in the cupboard.

I set up the tripod on the verandah, fasten the adapter to the front of my rather under-used Nikon 10×50 binoculars and clamp it all onto the tripod. I clear away the solar panels for the LED lamps, they must be fully charged by now (wasn’t it a good idea to leave them charging all day?), and settle down to focus the binoculars.

Dusk is falling rapidly as is its way in the topics. There is a light on the hill opposite – about 5km away and a perfect focusing spot. I wonder if they don’t have a power cut or have their own generator. Closing my right eye I focus the binos so that the left field is clear then close my left eye and use the focusing ring on the right objective lens to get a clear image of the light. Perfect. I sit back and enjoy the evening.

There is a buzz behind me as the fridge kicks into life. The power is back. It doesn’t matter; it is relatively dark where I live outside Harare so I will just turn the lights out and use the red LED lantern that I made to preserve my night vision. It is a perfect evening; mild and calm. I look on the horizon for an early star but it is still too light. I look up. Damn, clouds have moved in and they don’t look like the transient type. Now the mosquitoes start up. No! What has happened to my perfect plan? And now it starts to spit raindrops.

I put all the carefully prepared equipment away and go to see what can be done about supper. There’s a wedge of Camembert in the fridge that needs eating. I unwrap it. It doesn’t look good and is a bit slimy on the outside. But I am a Camembert veteran who is not easily put off his favorite cheese. I cycled across France in August of 1987 and subsisted on ripe Camembert and baguettes. It was hot, very hot, and by the end of the day the cheese could be poured out of the container. This, however, is not French Camembert and the fridge has been off all day. This cheese is more than ripe, it is rank. I try a piece and struggle. I call Zak. He is no cheese connoisseur but does like smelly things that can turn a human’s stomach. He is a bit hesitant to take the proffered cheese and biscuit. Does he know something about this cheese that I don’t? What has his nose detected? Maybe he is just a bit suspicious. He eats the cheese in the privacy of the lounge and comes back for more. He gets a bit but only one piece as he often sleeps with his rear end rather close to my head. The cheese goes back in the cooling fridge for future disposal. I can’t risk more either. I have a dentist’s appointment first thing tomorrow and it wouldn’t do to fart in the company of two rather attractive ladies!





Not of the right stuff

21 12 2013

I know that when the government press are critical of their own that the person in question is either a fall guy or just doesn’t have the right connections. The person in question is the CEO of the state-run Zimbabwe Broadcasting Corporation (ZBC) and has been drawing a salary of around $40,000 per month including allowances. While I’m sure that salaries of this magnitude exist in the real world outside Zimbabwe I very much doubt they are in government run corporations that are rapidly going broke (see this link). While this is a link to an independent paper I first saw the story in the government owned Herald.

The person in question has  been suspended from his job while investigations are ongoing. In the meantime I still see police roadblocks where the prime aim is to get motorists with car radios to pay their compulsory licences. The ZBC has inspectors who are at the roadside. To say this grates is an understatement. I have removed both my aerial and cover of my car radio. The former stops me being pulled over in the first place (there is a gaping hole by the windscreen where the aerial was) and the second allows me to bluster that the radio is not functional. If the licence inspector gets pushy I retort – “If you can get the radio working then I will buy one of your licences”.

In the meantime I am just waiting for the day when they realize that anyone with a cellphone also has a radio and is therefor liable for a licence!