10/07/2008 - Update 4
I apologize if I haven’t been able to respond to e-mails that some of you have written to me. I have not had e-mail access in 2 days when I sent my last update from Zimbabwe Population Services, whose wireless I pinched. An interesting note on ZPS… otherwise known as Marie Stopes… but not allowed to call themselves Marie Stopes in Zimbabwe because one of the pillars of Marie Stopes is safe abortion, which is illegal in this country. I met with the country director there, and with the organization’s manager, a Zimbabwean midwife, who has been working in the area of midwifery and population control for over 2 decades. She told me a story of a pregnant woman who went to a clinic to give birth with the help of a skilled birth attendant. She, however, was not able to bring the candle and matches that all pregnant women nowadays are required to bring in case they give birth at night. The nurse sent her away, and she went to a traditional birth attendant. The traditional birth attendant found that her baby was sitting the wrong way around, and took her back to the nurse. By the time they arranged transport for this woman, to get her to the nearest district hospital, over 100km away, the woman and child died. Not an atypical story in Zimbabwe today. She also told me about a period during which many women were going for HIV testing, and begging the nurses to say that they were HIV positive, even when they were not… as HIV+ women were being given food rations. There were stories of malaria-preventing bed-nets being used for fishing, and other desperate improvising measures that the people of this country are taking, in order to survive another day.
Tomorrow evening, I am going back to Bulawayo. I thought I would try to go in the morning but I have made an appointment to interview one last doctor here, the head of gynaecology at University of Zimbabwe. We drove past the UZ med school yesterday afternoon, and I had to wonder if doctors are still being trained there… scary stuff!
Yesterday morning I went to an NGO called Zvitambo, which stands for Zimbabwe Vitamin A for Mothers and Babies. It was started in 1997 when they were testing to see if an extra dose of Vitamin A decreased the chances of mother-to-child-transmission of HIV. They discovered that the extra dose did not change anything. It seemed that the main donors of this organization are Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, and McGill in Montreal. After all the other interviews I have had, where everyone was so helpful and enthusiastic about my work, these guys seemed a little off. Where I thought I would spend an hour at each interview, I have been caught up for at least 2 hours. With these guys, I was there for about 30 minutes, which I mainly spent twiddling my fingers while they faffed around. They told me they didn’t know why I was there, even though I had been in the offices at DFID (UK Department for International Development), when Allison, the lady I have been working with there, called them up to tell them who I am, what I’m doing, and to arrange the meeting. I had a feeling that there might be politics between Zvitambo and DFID, however, when I spoke to Allison today, she told me that Zvitambo has had a lot of visits from CIO (Zimbabwe’s secret police) which might account for their suspicious and unhelpful attitudes… not that I think I look very much like CIO, however, it might account for their sensitivity.
I soon left Zvitambo and walked down to the Sam Levy village where I went to a bookshop to find a poetry book by a Zimbabwean woman called Freedom T.V. Nyamubaya. Bought 2 poetry books, and 3 children’s books there for 12 billion. Later on that day, I bought 2 aero chocolate bars from a street vendor for 30 billion (US$1). Rudzani had quoted some of Nyamubaya’s words to me during the months of anger and frustration and helplessness in London, over the Zim situation. The book I bought was first published in 1986, and I’d like to type out a piece of hers that Rudz has often quoted:
Now that I have put my gun down
For almost obvious reasons
The enemy still is here invisible
My barrel has no definite target
Now
Let my hands work –
My mouth sing –
My pencil write –
About the same things my bullet
Aimed at.
From there, Luana and I went to a little arts village in one of Harare’s more industrial areas. On the way there, Luana offered a lift to a guy walking on the side of the road with a seemingly heavy bag. He was very grateful explaining that transport had gone from 5 billion to 20 billion in one week, and that he used to live in another campsite but that they had closed it down for maintenance and told the people that lived there to go and camp at the one near this industrial area, much further from town and the little transport there is. He told us he was 68 years old (he looked 50!), unemployed and preferred to live in his own tent. I’m not sure what his other option would be. He was worried because there has been talk of rain in Harare this weekend… which is HIGHLY unusual for Zimbabwe in our most wintery month of July. That being said, it’s been beautiful and sunny, and even hot, every day that I have been here. So much for winter… not that I am complaining.
Even though it was very quiet at the arts village, I was amazed that these things still exist at all. From incredible carpentry, to stone Shona sculptures, from beaded lampshades, to magnificent woodwork, and little ornaments of men reading newspapers, made out of nuts and bolts and scrap metal. In Bulawayo, the quiet era is over, and things are just dead. The creativity that goes on here is still a wonder. The interesting thing is that before, things used to be priced in Zim dollars… and depending on when I came home, things were either very cheap or very expensive, depending on if people had adjusted their prices yet according to the hyperinflation. Nowadays, everything is priced in US dollars, such that depending on the day’s exchange rate, the Zim dollar price is adjusted… although US dollars are most welcome.
I took photographs of men in a paper store, making and dying papers in the little workshop behind the store. We also went to a couple of antique shops in the village, selling off what are probably the last of the antiques available in Zim. I looked at one magnificent wooden trunk, for instance, made in New York, probably in the 1920’s, which had a sticker on it which guaranteed it for 5 years… we’re now almost a century later! (This inspired us to go through Luana’s box of antique treasures when we got home, finding old plastic dolls 2 inches in size, antique Moroccan perfume bottles, ivory travel sewing kits, an old free-Mason’s broach, beautiful old compacts, with powder and lipstick still intact, etc etc... I was totally like a kid in a candy store!)
We went for lunch in the village to a little outdoor restaurant run by an old Zimbabwean guy who is the chef there. His menu and prices were quoted on a big blackboard of which I took a picture. The top of the blackboard stated: “The prices below are for payments made by cheque. We will award a 50% discount on all cash payments!!” Zimbabwe has run out of money. As of this week, the reserve bank has ceased to print anymore, and so cash is scarce. This is likely because the German company from which we used to import the paper to print the money here, has under international pressure, refused to do any further business with Zimbabwe. We paid in US dollars, and got an even further discount! I understand why the prices are doubled if one pays by cheque. In Zimbabwe, we are only allowed to withdraw 100 billion dollars from the bank each day (the current equivalent of just over 3 US dollars!)… and by the time one is able to withdraw the 600 billion that is charged for a meal paid by cheque, hyperinflation is such that 600 billion is unlikely to be 6 x 3 = 18 dollars… it is likely to have lost value, and to be about half.
We went that afternoon to pick up some documents that Doctor Munjanja had left for me at Parirenyatwa Hospital at the WHO offices. (Dr Munjanja is a Zimbabwean obstetrician who trained in Scotland, and is according to DFID, the leading expert on maternal health in Zimbabwe, and has just completed a study on 45,000 pregnant women.) The hospital is a true testament to the way in which buildings were built in Zimbabwe in the 1950’s… strong, sturdy high-ceilings, thick walls, arched doorways and large windows… which after approximately 60 years of little maintenance, are only just beginning to show signs of the odd crack in the floor, or a crumbling wall. The hospital, built in colonial Rhodesia, was laid out so that there are a number of open spaces, which I’m sure, in those days, were covered in green grass, and flowers, for the privileged white patients. Now, both the sick and the healthy can be found loitering on the hospital grounds… a woman with one leg hops around, a child from one of the NGO adverts that we see on TV lies on his mother’s lap, both the ill and the somewhat healthy look too thin. We stop to take pictures of old baths strewn out on the grass, filled with the leaves of a dying tree. We stop to take pictures of an old operating chair… wondering who has sat on this chair, how many have died, and who thought to place the chair in the middle of a parking area.
As I go into the WHO offices, which are under high security, Luana sits outside talking to Crispin, a hospital security guard who is paid 80 billion dollars a month… not enough to even cover the transport (at least 15 billion) of getting to and from work each day. He tells Luana of his 2 children, asks her if she knows anyone looking for a domestic worker, a gardener; whatever… he’ll take it. And when I return, with his big-toothed smile, he says goodbye. Luana comments that no matter how bad things are, they still manage to spare a smile, their wide honest toothy African smile.
On the way home, we drove past Mugabe’s residence, and I quickly placed my camera as far from sight at possible, as we cruised past his North Korean-trained soldiers, placed approximately 20 metres apart, sauntering up and down the curb outside the walls of his property. We pass a huge sign saying “no entry between 6pm and 6am.” One cannot drive past his house during these hours. Luana told me that in the past, there have been cases of people driving there by mistake, and that they have been killed with one single bullet.
I must say, however, I have felt very safe here. Dr Munjanja said that most of the current political intimidation is very targeted, and that there is no need to worry. After meeting with him 2 days ago, I went walking through the streets of downtown Harare… the only white person in sight. In comparison to Bulawayo, I was just amazed by the shops… you can find almost anything you want, from toasters, to all sorts of electronics, children’s toys, etc… the reason I noticed this is because a year ago, I was looking for children’s puzzles in Bulawayo, and the last of the children’s toy shops had just closed down. Everything is available in Harare… at a price. Well… almost everything… there is still no bread, no maize meal, no cheese in the shops. Today, Luana is going to take me to buy some of the delicious Mozambican cheese that is available, with cumin seeds in it. This, we certainly can’t find in Bulawayo.
I am trying to take photographs where possible, and will hopefully go to the railway station tomorrow to get some good shots. In the mean, I have mainly been able to take picture of the red-billed long-tailed starlings in Luana’s garden, and have taken a few pictures at the artist’s village, and at the hospital. On Monday, I will be going out to a rural hospital to take pictures of eye surgeries, and am going to try to get some pictures of the elections posters that have been pasted everywhere. Dave, if there is anything specific you would like me to take pictures of, please let me know.
For now, I am off to enjoy another day in Africa, to bask in the sunshine, one of the few things the government can’t destroy!
- Gabi
