04/07/2008 - Update 2
I didn't think i'd be writing so soon, and I apologize if you feel that I am bombarding your inboxes. However this evening we were supposed to have a power cut from 5pm onwards, but it's after 10pm and the power is still on, so I'm making hay while the sun shines! A little reminiscent of the Channukah story perhaps? :)
To all of you who have responded and shown concern, I really appreciate all of your thoughts and good energy. A few clarifications... I am in Zim for 3 weeks to do some research for my dissertation. I have not left London for good, and will be back there on the 23rd of July until the 15th of September, so I look forward to seeing many of you upon my return. Also, I will only be heading to Australia in November. Apologies that I can't respond to each of you individually, but if you knew how frustratingly slow the internet is here, that it takes a good few minutes to open each page, I'm sure you'd understand.
Today in Bulawayo... well most of the day was spent running around trying to get some official paperwork together, paying people off to get things done, discovering that my middle name appears on my birth certificate and not on my national id, so had to get a new one of those... and after about 5 hours of running around, it seems I managed to get everything done that I possibly could have! Quite an accomplishment I must tell you! I have to wonder if there are other places in the world where police can be paid off with as little as the equivalent of 2 pounds! Though who knows what will happen from here.
Town feels quiet, depressing.. there are ZANU PF posters hung everywhere. And yet, it wasn't the shock everyone told me it would be. Perhaps I was desensitized because of all the debriefing, though I have a feeling it was more as a result of the digression that I have become accustomed to expecting each time I return home. However, I am usually happy, and look forward to all the short-term wheeling and dealing, but today, the cloudless sky seemed to sit a little heavier, and the light of midday in Africa seemed a little dimmer than usual.
I went to Eski's (Eskimo Hut), our famous 1960's and 70's ice-cream place that is a real icon of the city... and ordered what I always order: a small choc-dip cup (soft-serve with chocolate sauce on top that hardens as soon as it touches the cold ice-cream). I have this fantasy that I try to realize each time I come home, and every time I went to Eski's during my childhood: I always asked if I could lick the choc-dip spoon. Sadly, they always declined. And I always believed that one day I would come back and be able to strike up a smoking deal to convince them to let me lick the damn spoon! And now, alas, they are not making choc-dip anymore :( I suppose this is a little nothing with regards to the situation here, and the deprivation from which most are suffering. But yet, it is a strange and traumatic experience to watch one's childhood picked apart piece by piece, and to wonder if one might ever have the chance to recapture a morsel of it, if only through the fantasy of licking a choc-dip spoon.
I went to a grocery store today, and I saw milk. I bought 2 packets, because who knows when we'll see milk again here. Nowadays we freeze everything. Milk included. After coming out of the grocery store, about a dozen vendors ran up to me trying to sell me some sort of fruit or vegetable that they themselves can probably not even afford to eat. Dealing with the vendors is always the most crushing thing for me. I didn't need any fruit or vegetables, and I didn't buy any. But as usual, I promised to go back when I do need some, and I always try to keep these promises before I leave. A wrinkled old man who could hardly walk asked if he could look after my car while I was in the supermarket. I couldn't say no, and I tipped him 5 billion dollars (about 20 US cents), a small fortune by Zimbabwe standards (I've heard of monthly salaries of 6 billion for some domestic workers... an absolute disgrace!!!).
Whilst everyone is pressuring me to not use my camera while I am here, for fear that I will be mistaken for a foreign journalist, I have decided that instead of taking it into town, I am going to do some suburban shots of the pot holes that exist here. Massive craters that would be off-putting to even the most macho of 4x4's. We have a saying in Zimbabwe, that only the drunks drive straight... as everyone else is trying to dodge the unavoidable potholes... a scary thing, particularly in the night time when few people have headlights in their cars (it is near impossible to obtain spare car parts here).
Tonight was a typical Friday night in Bulawayo. We had half of the Bulawayo Jewish community that's not in the old age home over at our house for Shabbat dinner (about 20 people). In times like these, it's a strange experience and one I am not quite comfortable with... as we sit down to dine in need of nothing... discussing American politics with some right-wing Republican ex-Zimbabweans who are visiting at the moment. It all seems so ironic that we can dare talk about American problems, even after witnessing the poverty and struggles and suffering of the people here. I know we can't equate the two situations, that the US is a far cry from Zimbabwe. But greed, which exists in other parts of the world, but is perhaps more controlled, seems to have done us in here, in Zimbabwe... the corruption and greed of one man and his followers. I did my best to keep my blood from boiling at the dinner table, and am mainly sad as I am reminded of the woes of the world which in Zimbabwe are constantly thrown in one's face from all angles. Perhaps I am not as desensitized as I thought.
There is word in the air that Mugabe and Tsvangirai are going to have to sit down and talk and make some compromises. With regards to "what next"... the truth is that I really have no idea. But in the mean time, the old 1950's buildings continue to crumble, the old ford angliers and morris minors continue to fall apart and are held together with elastic bands and paper clips, food becomes more and more scarce, and suffering continues to grow.
For fear of taking the electricity for granted, I shall sign off. I hope you are all well and safe where ever in the world you might be. I look forward to your e-mails, and wish you all a restful weekend.
Shabbat shalom,
- Gabi x
A Grey Lourie, or "Go-Away bird" in Tanya's garden
