Zimbabwe

And parked myself in Victoria Falls at the Shoestring backpackers.

‘Doctor Livingstone I presume’.

I have some recordings of the falls but will have to upload another time.

After walking the Falls, Danny who works at the Shoestring BP’s, took me to his friends shop to fix my computer from the various virus’ I was storing. On Sunday we, Noris actually, spent 5 1/2 hours trying to eliminate the virus’, and then Monday morning his brother Manny and Noris, and another man from another shop, Louis, all chipped in to make my computer new again. We had to re-format, then reinstall an older version of XP, and still we found the virus again. I had to purchase ESET Nod.32 antivirus and after all was working I went back to my room and did a scan, and sure enough it found an infection and illuminated it. Today I did two more scans and didn’t find anything. However the stick I fear that started the whole thing from the Jungle Monkey in South Africa, well when I stuck that into the computer, which I had reformatted two weeks ago, showed a worm and deleted that too. Yikes, I’m so tired of virus’, it’s worse than sex for disease. Anyway I’ve been at this for two days plus three hours trying to catch up with the photos and stories and now I must sign off to do a few things before leaving tomorrow to head south.

Also I’m going to meet with Manny and his friend who is studying sound and wants to talk over some food. Plus I want to find a Zimbabwe sticker for the bike and blah blah blah ….

… here are the guys that helped me with my computer problems, honest dudes, Norris on the left and his brother Manelus on the right …

… and the gang who work and hang in this big little shop.

I stopped for fuel and the guy all in blue suggested I take a picture of the old steam train and I said yeah okay. And then he and the other guy came over to be in the picture too. After the other guy who I sat down and had a smoke with said, ‘There is one more picture we must take’.

I stopped here in this old place outside of Bulawayo that used to be Robert Mugabi’s vice president’s pad. It was cold but the barman made himself and I some ‘Sadza’, a corn meal porridge with meat.

They are laying fiber optic cable for hundreds of kilometers, by hand.

A routine police check just behind me in this photo. All they ask with great big smiles is where did you come from and where are you going, and they always finish with, Welcome to Zimbabwe and enjoy your travels.

I stopped here near the Great Zimbabwe Ruins, an old hotel/inn that is situated in a stunning garden on the hill above the road.

Here is the great Michelin map that Pierre gave me back in Botswana.

This is my guide, Muchagatengke (sorry it’s not spelled properly), at the entrance to the ruins after explaining to me that back in the day if I got to this spot and didn’t have any legitimate business with the king I would be slain right then and there. Luckily I had my guide so nothing happened.

The king had his separate quarters from his 100 or so wives and only the chosen few along with the guards stayed at the top of the castle as it were. The ladies lived in the other part at the bottom which all have names but I can’t remember. Anyway, it was an amazing experience as only Muchagatenke and I were on the ruins so when he was explaining to me the history and such, well we had time just to sit and look off into the distance to contemplate.

Those rocks are covering a hole that went down into the mountain. No one knows what is down there but it is believed this is where the burial chambers are located. Apparently at one point in time, long after the demise of the king and his people, some local tribesman ventured down to see what they could find but they never returned. And again in 1981 some English archaeologists also went down and they too vanished. So the government of Zimbabwe covered the hole to avoid being responsible for any more disappearances, and still today no one knows what is down there. I couldn’t believe that someone wouldn’t go down to find whatever is there, perhaps a ton of gold and other treasures. I kept asking Muchagatenke since he was in his third year of archaeology why he didn’t go down there but he said because he was afraid, just like everyone else in the area. It was decided at the end of the tour while we were saying good-bye, that he would call me the day he goes down the hole so that I may accompany him. I’ll think about it ….

 

The next day I rode some smaller roads through villages and the lands of the people. I again didn’t take any pictures of the people as like I’ve said many times before, it’s an invasion, me riding on this huge motorcycle through their back yards, pointing a camera at their bewildered faces. So instead I would just wave and they would wave back, or sometimes the little ones would hide behind their siblings or mothers, but mostly people would smile and give me a thumbs up.

 

And later twisting and turning through the amazing Eastern Highlands at 1800 meters. Again people were amazed to see me (not like I was the first bike that came through there but you can imagine not many travelers do). Anyway they were all smiling with those huge Zimbabwean smiles.

When I arrived in Chimanimani, I was asked by the ladies working at the hotel if I missed Canada and my family. I answered sometimes, and two hours later while sitting in my cold dark room without electricity (which was out for six hours), I became depressed, discouraged and incredibly lonely. Thankfully the power came back on and I managed to wire the TV into the socket, which is always a process, and watched a movie under the covers. I think maybe all of these grand old hotels I’ve been staying in have attributed to my sadness, for as beautiful as these old buildings are, they are also tired, cold, and empty of people, except for me and the bored staff. Zimbabwe as I was told by a local, suffers from 90% unemployment, and even though I can see this for myself, the people’s energy and happiness is so strong that it’s upsetting in a strange way. For example, if I had to work in one of these old hotels that doesn’t entertain what it once used to, well it would seem so futile I would go crazy with frustration knowing nothing is going to happen today or tomorrow. And yet the Zimbabweans remain gentle, happy and true. I can’t tell you how many times everyone I meet says, “Welcome to our country. Enjoy your travels. Thank you for coming to Zimbabwe”. It breaks my heart.

 

The next day I arose early and left quickly; I just needed to ride. And again the faces of the people shining, smiling and laughing as I rode by gave me this good but awkward feeling. I didn’t take any pictures for most of the ride to Harare, until after I stopped in Mutare for fuel, after this man came to me to talk, he said, ‘My friend where are you from? Canada. Smiling he asked, You came all this way on this motorbike? Yep. Ohhh you have a nice strong bike. Will you be staying in our city Mutare? Well no, it’s too early to stop, and really I need to find an internet place. Oh but I think there is one up this road here. Yes but it’s Sunday and everything is closed. Wait, let me ask this man walking by …. Mr. Mowry, (in Shona he asked if the museum had internet). No I’m sorry there is not. No really it’s okay I understand it’s Sunday. Mr. Mowry said his pleasantries before strolling down the street. The Man asked, ‘Would you like to buy some of my nice sculptures? No I’m sorry I can’t. I have no room for anything on this bike. Yes, you have quite a lot of things. Well my friend I won’t keep you from your travels. Please enjoy your time here in Zimbabwe and I wish you good travels’. Every time I stop it is like this, and it breaks my heart, the genuine goodness of people, everywhere I’ve been in almost a year.So for the rest of the day I took pictures of people when I felt in that split second riding 100plus km’s/hour that it wouldn’t be an offense. Unfortunately I missed many of them, because as always I feel badly pointing my camera at someone, and inevitably pull my camera back before the shutter has actually opened and closed.

I’m staying here at this beautiful old hotel, The Bronte, well actually across the street in their cheaper accommodations. It’s nice to be around some other travelers in this bustling hotel.

I turned on the TV and they televised a dress rehearsal for the opening match RSA and Mexico. It was really interesting to watch.

This safe makes me feel like a rich guy after pushing the code, the safe pops open like I have diamonds and hoards of cash or something.

I have no pictures for the last three days while here in Harare, though I have plenty of words …. I had spoken with Scott, my friend of twenty some years, who I parted company with on this trip, back in Costa Rica. He sent me an email alerting me that it is not possible to obtain a visa for Ethiopia in Nairobi, Kenya, where most people apply. He was writing from Khartoum, Sudan at the time. He is well, but short of words as usual. Anyway, after trying to find out if this is true for quite some time, he is correct, and I thank him here with this entry. I spent the day at the Canadian and Ethiopian embassies, and running around preparing the details needed for the application; passport photo, copy of passport, itinerary of roads travelled typed on paper, personal details etc. …and tomorrow I will proceed with the process, change the oil in the bike, say goodnight to Harare and visit with Antoinette in her home, as Pierre unfortunately is back in Botswana running his tour company. Then I will move on to Malawi, cutting through a piece of Mozambique to visit a friend of my father’s in Lilongwe, and on and on and on from there. Last night I encountered the winds and fires of life’s second hand clock, every second a timeless moment. In the morning I remembered, and today I am still here.

Lucy and Ingrid arrived separately the same night as I. We spent three evenings together, the second briefly as we were all exhausted from the night before, they’re both working in the medical field and waking at 7:00am. We were brought together by Lazareth, a local who hangs out at the hotel soliciting whatever is possible in a good way though trying at times; twice I had to say, ‘I’m not a bank’, and ‘Lazereth, you can’t come along’, a tear in his eye after that. Anyway, he brought the three of us together in his good natured way. We had pizza in my room the last night; we were getting tired of being solicited by not just Lazereth; the idle chit chat with a means, including the posh ladies of the night.

Oh and an update on the ‘Golden Egg’ which I’ve been using since Costa Rica. Stephen Verdon, who gave me the egg for sterilizing water way back then, well, I haven’t bought any water except for those times my bike and bed water wasn’t present. Anyway, you may recall in Buenos Aries he sent me 25 eggs to give away while in Africa. And I have been giving them away, yet I haven’t taken any pictures until now. Lucy has one, and is going to be doing a lot more traveling so she has and says, ‘Yeah thanks, and let’s take a picture! How does it work she asks? I don't know I say'.

I left Harare to visit with Antoinette the next morning, and stopped here for a possible bite to eat. And this man David came up to me with some usual questions and then showed me around his son’s bar for the opening night of the Fifa World Cup the next day, before giving me the directions of a place to eat across the road, and a big South African Flag to stick on my bike. He said, ‘Why not stay an extra day and watch the match here because where you are going you won’t feel the excitement of the opening game if you get to watch it all’. I answered ‘We shall see’, and carried on to Pierre and Antoinette’s home after I had a bite to eat across the road.

From the moment I arrived, Antoinette was so giving in all her beautiful ways I said before leaving after spending two days and nights saying thank you, ‘I can’t thank you enough and I promise I won’t thank you again, cause I know how irritating that can be’.

Let me introduce the Ridgeback baby sisters, Malika and Moo’y?, both different and interesting in their own ways at three months, and the mother and father Wafa (means ‘death’ in Shona, and ‘Faithful' in Arabic. Antoinette said, ‘You won’t believe the people’s faces when he is charging at them while I’m screaming ‘WAFA!’, (the people including everyone who comes near including the local Spanish diplomat next door); and Regal the mother who in the beginning when I first arrived came to watch over me when the puppies and I were interacting approvingly. Both Wafa and Regal came to my room when I was packing to leave, sniffing my stuff, looking me in the eyes after I replied, ‘Yeah, it was nice to meet you too’.

I was given this book to read and I did, what an amazing story. Pierre and Antoinette and many friends found a Catalina, from all places Canada, and flew this airboat all over, it's an amazing truth of existence in this world, and unfortunately I can't say anymore just now, for one has to read to understand.

Going back, the first morning was a trip to see one or two caves, ‘We shall see’ he/she said, and off we went, and only then after pulling over to get some diesel did we find out from the dude that the front tire was really low, and that there was no air pressure available so after trying a second station, Antoinette thought it would be faster just to change the tire so we did.

... and then a long walk to the first cave ....

'Do you want to go to the cave that no one goes to, it's only an hour away? Yeah okay'.

This young man crawled through a hole on the other side and ended up here wielding a well made spear.

Antoinette picked up three well deserved passengers to go to town with their onions to sell, the little boy you can't see.

And here are the lovers, Wafa and Regal ....

The next morning I headed for the Zimbabwean/Mocambique border ....

... only to have my passport and bike papers stamped quickly and efficiently, before I paid my first police bribe on this whole journey. The Zim cop and associates, guys who can figure out ways to pay, pointed out that I had three live bullets glued to the bike, after inspecting my machete carefully concealed that looked like a rifle they said, 'This is a serious offense in Zimbabwe and I think we should go to the police station. Okay I said and then started to back the bike out from where we were, when one of the associates suggested it might be better for me if I just paid some money to prevent a delay, so 20US, then 'shit' was the quote from the cop, then I backed the bike up again to go to the station, then 40, then the officer came to my bike and ordered me to remove the bullets from the fairing and that's when I thought 'shit', he can say I had these on my personal possession and then what will be the bribe/process to come considering one's power to be? For if they want to find fault they can. Meanwhile a guy is telling me that the Mozambique police will bust me if I don't buy a neon vest with stickers for the front and rear of my bike for 20US. What the hell? I hadn't received this since Guatemala and Honduras. At the same time a white guy transporting a black family and their possessions from one country to the next and fully loaded said he has paid a bribe at every police check he has encountered. I suppose I had been lucky so far but I have to tell you now while I write this many hours after the fact, I got caught, and have been worried about this for a long time already. So all said and done, then the Moz visa guy said it's 27 dollars for a visa and after waiting outside after he said with one word, 'Outside', I received my visa and receipt for 25US. I wasn't happy .... being rudely treated and basically robbed. So I took a piss in an outdoor border shit house outside for a dollar, and left the gifts from my friends underneath a broken concrete floor. I wasn't happy about having to wear a neon vest, into the throws of my day, not knowing what the speed limit was which wasn't posted for the first 50 km's so I stayed at 80km's, not knowing what to expect from the rumors of police corruption. I didn't like the experience but have learned a great deal anyway. I don't know what it is but it's kind of like someone telling you you have to pay a fine for not wearing your seat belt when you are alrady wearing it, or not wearing a helmet on your Sunday afternoon bike ride with the family. And just so you know, I didn't see one motorcycletta wearing a neon vest, not even a helmet, but saw all the trucks and cars displaying them on the dashboard to avoid the fine. Just another cash grab is how I see it, and a way to allow the money to flow .... the thing is I had my guard down after so many months traveling from one country to the next I wasn't ready for this again. Time to start thinking before the border crossings from now on, like getting cash for the future country in their currency to avoid the swarm of people.