This article originally appeared on MSN UK Travel. Please excuse the first few paragraphs, a bit of repetition from other blog posts. I have taken the liberty to add a few more pictures, as well.
My standards of personal hygiene have been reduced to a new low point. It has been about two weeks since my last proper shower, more than a month since I last slept in a bed, and I can’t quite remember the last time I had meat that didn’t come out of a can. When it rains, I run outside with a bottle of shampoo and hop around trying to get as good a rinse as possible, while the group fights over drips coming off the tarp next to the truck. The most amazing thing is how clean I feel after washing in water coming off a muddy tarp, and how the water pressure can actually exceed some of the ‘real’ showers I’ve had of late.
Muddy tarp shower
Zimbabwe has been a surreal experience. The people are open and friendly, well spoken, polite, and generally wonderful. Their houses are clean and neat, no matter how humble. Everything and everyone is meticulously taken care of to the best of their ability. I’ve seen wider, more soul-touching grins here than anywhere in the world. People are hungry, lacking in basic supplies, and yet are still dignified.
Zimbabwean Family
We were not quite sure what to expect, knowing the situation is quite dire, but what does that mean? Would people mob the truck? Would we see people dying in the street? It was hard to know, and we braced for the worst. We decided to bring some extra food with us to see if we could make a small dent in someone’s daily hunger, yet unsure of the best way to disperse it (I ended up going on little “food walks” in the smaller villages, which worked quite well). What we encountered was absolutely magical, and nothing like what we expected.
BiRT Traverse and sunset
We began in Victoria Falls, which is a bit of a tourist bubble. It is easy to ignore all that is happening in this country while there, as one is shuttled from adrenaline-filled activity to activity. The Zambezi river provided most of the entertainment. We rafted, tried body boarding – there’s nothing quite like nearly falling out of a raft through grade 5 rapids than to then take a small foam board with miniature flippers, be wished ‘good luck’ and jump right into it. Now I know what my washing feels like.
Needless to say, I was glad to move on from Vic Falls to see some of the real country in the interior, our next stop being a national park called Matopos. The area is stunningly beautiful, but also has an eerie ghost-town feel to it. There are lodges with no one in them, a formerly stately pool lies empty, and there are virtually no employees on the grounds. We camped in between the empty lodges and the stagnant pool, lamenting over what a truly special retreat location it once must have been.
Antelope park followed, which has nothing to do with Antelopes and everything to do with lions. It is a rehabilitation / reserve park, where the volunteers on hand work to increase the drastically reduced lion population in Africa. One of the main attractions is to go on a walk with lions, who think the accompanying humans are part of their pride. Our two lion companions were 17 months old, and therefore quite big. They are almost ready for their next stage of development; too old for safe human interaction and at a point where they are ready to begin hunting on their own. I don’t think the adrenaline rush that goes along with having a huge, nearly wild lion brush up against you like a pal needs any further explanation.
Walking with lions in Antelope Park
Harare, the capitol city, is where it really hit us how strange things are in the country. Clearly at one point quite cosmopolitan, today it has an odd feel to it. The buildings are modern-looking and clean, there are plenty of people, but most everything is closed or empty. The supermarket shelves stand bare. Department stores lack products and spread out the little inventory they have to give the appearance of there being a lot in their store when really, you could play field hockey in there. Things like bread, toilet paper, soap, shoes, butter (and the list goes on) are impossible to find.
There are enormous queues outside of ATM machines at banks; the government can’t print the money fast enough to keep up with inflation. There are two economies in Zimbabwe – the real one (otherwise known as the Black Market) and the official one. Currency is so inflated that you end up with a giant wad of cash in your hand for even the most minor purchases. Prices for the few things on sale in supermarkets are written on sheets of paper so they can easily be changed day to day, and you’re looking at spending something like $800,000 for a tin of baked beans. On the official exchange rate, that’s something like $3,000 USD. On the black market, that’s just over a US dollar – about right.
Million dollar baked beans
On our way out of the country, we passed by a few more climbing areas in the middle of nowhere, which provided quite an interesting outlook on rural life. First, we needed to get permission from the local village chiefs to climb their mountains and camp on their land. This was an experience in itself – local bureaucracy that had nothing to do with the actual government as far as we could tell.
Once all the pomp and circumstance was sorted, we immediately became the center of all village activity. I’m sure locals will be talking about the strange-looking big red truck that rolled through their village for years to come. Children came in droves to play on the truck’s climbing wall and to kick around a football.
Astonished onlookers
Here we had good opportunities to leave the food gifts to local families – things like a kilo of sugar brought some mothers to tears. Talking with local women nearly did the same for me. One woman I met told me her story: she lost her parents at age 10, was raped at age 14, had the resulting child at 15. The child died a few years ago and now she has another lovely baby named Mona Lisa. This woman is the most eloquent, educated, beautiful young woman now at 21. It is heartbreaking to see her living in a spartan hut and struggling to feed her child. I could see her as the CEO of a company. It begs the question – how many geniuses and prodigies go completely undiscovered due to circumstances such as this?
Zimbabwean mother and child
Zimbabwe will go down in my travel diary as one of those countries that changes your soul in a special way. I highly recommend visiting – the people are amazing, the landscape is stunning, and it’s not as bad as the media makes it out to be. Definitely give it a chance if you can. My heart goes out to everyone here, and I hope their situation improves.
Children in Zimbabwe
