Into Zimbabwe

I then borrowed, once again, a car from Terry. His kindness never fails to amaze me, as having transport is the greatest gift he could give me.
This time I was in the lap of luxury, driving his Mondeo. I was now en route for Francistown for the 3rd time, and this time I would be staying once again with Larry and Ian at the school. Their kindness, as with everyone else, is simply overwhelming. I feel like a member of their family and this is the most warm and wonderful feeling one can have in my opinion.

I left behind my friends in Gaborone, and headed up to Francistown once more. My welcome at Larry (Lorraine) and Ian's was overwhelming. Larry had arranged for all the girls from the Book Club to meet at her house, and also for us to have an evening out at the Francistown Marengo Hotel. I was so happy to see all the girls I knew from my first visit, and some new faces too - and they in turn wanted to know about England (and Scotland too!) and how things were changing since many of them had gone from England some years before. Some of these ladies (but I still tend to refer to them as 'girls') were teachers, but many were working in other industries, particularly the administration side of the Gold and Diamond Mining Industries. They live a relatively good life in Botswana, but salaries are not nearly as high as they would be earning if they were living here in Britain. Of course, the cost of living is much less, and the standard of living is very high. Francistown was the original 'Gold Rush' town, and consequently has a good selection of shops, considering that supplying them is quite a big logistical problem.


They do, however, have ultra modern shopping Malls, and of course, the favourite vehicle is what we call the Pick Up truck and they call the bakkie.

Goat and kid at the Zimbabwean Border - Perhaps they were also queuing for a visa.

Larry and Ian have two daughters in boarding school in Bulawayo, and they had to go to talk over their exam options, and asked if I would like to go with them. I jumped at the chance. they are both from Bulawayo originally, so to be taken there and shown around by people whose home town it it, was an opportunity not to be missed under any circumstances. Of course, carrying a British passport meant waiting in an almost endless queue, then paying double the visa cost for the priviledge, but it was all worth it. At the border post, Ian (he was delivering a bakkie for a friend, Larry and I were following in their own car) there was all the rigmarole of getting papers signed and the formalities to be done. Ian carries a Zimbabwean passport, as does Larry, so they just told me to stick with them, and they would do the talking. Instead of waiting up to 5 hours in the queue (not unusual at that border!) the border guard was really lovely. He was chatting away to me about how sad life is in Zimbabwe, and how hard it was getting. He said to me 'You know, we have never had a problem with the British, they were always good to us, but when two elephants fight, the only thing that gets damaged is the grass'. What a profound and true statement that was.

 

The sign welcoming visitors to Bulowayo - with Cocal Cola advert alongside the Arms of the City

 

Old Colonial buildings now sadly gradually deteriorating due to lack of maintenance.

The bakkie, and the car I was in, were both filled to capacity with mealie meal, and other goods like cooking oil, salt and a whole long shopping list that Larry and I had been collecting for days. I still did not appreciate the significance of the precious cargo, but in the course of the next couple of days all became clear.

Haddon & Sly - Once the poshest place in town - now there is nothing to see in it!

As we left the border post, on either side of the road for about a mile, were men waving bundles of money at us. We just kept on driving, not stopping for anything. Once passed these people the countryside looked very wild and uncared for. Larry explained that these had all been farms up until very recently, but Mr Mugabe had thrown the owners off their land, and the 'war veterans' (this was the Zimbabwean 'war' against Ian Smith's regime) had taken control and smashed up all the machinery in an orgy of wanton destruction. Piles of rusting machinery lay beside the roads and the land was no longer cultivated. After a couple of miles, Larry said to me that where a little dust track met this main road, one time she had picked up two little girls who were running to school. She said she would show me where she had dropped them off, so that I could appreciate just how keen children are to learn in Africa in general, and Zimbabwe in particular. We continued on, and could see in the distance a huge fig tree. She told me that it was one of the biggest ones they (herself and Ian) had ever come across - almost 70 yards across at its widest - a wonderful shade in such a hot climate. She pointed out the Kopje's (sort of stony outcrops that punctuate the scenery and are sacred places to the native peoples). We continued mile upon dusty mile, and I assumed Larry had forgotten to tell me about where she had dropped those two little 6 and 7 year old girls. After 32 Kilometres (about 20 miles!) she pointed to a little village just off the main road. This was where the school is - and those children RUN that journey morning and afternoon every day - and often have other duties both before school and after they arrive home helping to carry water and firewood for cooking. No wonder these countries produce such incredible long distance runners - they do it from their earliest years.

Soon we saw the sign telling us we were about to enter Bulawayo, but this was covered in graffiti and looked neglected. It was fascinating to see this city. Wide, majestic avenues, designed so that an ox-cart being pulled by 8 oxen could turn round in its width without any problem. Now, it was more pot-hole than road. Ian was very upset by the state of the roads and the once gloriously manicured lawns of the parks. We arrived at their friends, the DeBeers, house (he is headmaster of a highly prestigeous boys boarding school) and the welcome was overwhelming in its warmth. Gleefully, sacks of Mealie Meal, gallons of cooking oil, fruit, flour, butter, sugar and all other provisions were unloaded. Their friend was almost in tears to see such generosity, and they invited me to join them for a braai (barbecue) later that night.

Once majestic street!

I was staying with yet another friend of Larry and Ians. Martin Sanders is, without a doubt, the most charismatic historian it has been my joy to meet.

Martin was very welcoming, and has incredible stories to relate about his life there. Born in India he has lived also in Palestine (as it was in those days) before finally settling down in Bulawayo. His house is very historic, having been part of the estate of one of the most eminent men in Rhodesia, Julian Greenwood. His house is crammed with artifacts which he has spent a lifetime collecting. His grounds are the last resting place for a couple of Model T Fords, various Zephyrs and Minis, MGs and even a Hunters Safari Caravan. This is an amazing vehicle, still in original condition, and still with its engine in working order. It was built around 1920 and has racks above the drivers seat to carry the guns. His intention was always to use it as a teaching aid, something which he has done for many years. Alas, the last time he went through the border, the guards wanted to know the value of everything he was carrying, which indicated to him that if he tried to go through they might confiscate his collections, so he turned back - very reluctantly!

Martin's property is also where he has a huge collection of artifacts from years past. Including this amazing vehicle. It was built for Marshall's of Cambridge, the aircraft manufacturers. It was a mobile workshop and laboratory, and in fact all the contents of it are still in Martin's possession. He had intended to convert it to use in travelling around schools, but with the deteriorating situation in Zimbabwe, this was now an unattainable dream.

Mobile workshop built for Marshall's of Cambridge for aircraft fitters to work on engine by carrying personnel and all the tools necessary fortheir work.

He was instrumental in setting up the Zimbabwean National Natural History Museum, and worked as their Education Director for 40 years. We became friends almost on sight, and talked so long that Larry and I had almost forgotten to go and get the Pizza which their daughter had requested for her birthday treat! Martin lives in one of the most historic houses in Bulawayo, and it is filled with the most amazing treasures imaginable. We sat on the terrace, having a long ice cold drink, and as is always the case, suddenly it was dark. This was the Zimbabwean summer, but it was also the rainy season.

Each of the 4 sections is colour coded, so this green section had ruler, pen and scissors etc all painted green, same for blue, red and yellow, so no arguments about children taking each others equipment!

Martin demonstrating a very clever desk he has designed to allow 4 children to work at once on a different subject each at the same time.

He has a large building which he refers to as 'Harrods' because it houses just about everything anyone interested in history could possibly want to have. There are old motor bikes, old toys, household equipment by the ton, well, you name it, Martin has at least one example of it. The saddest part though, is that he will never be able to retire. He worked all his life in Bulawayo as the Education Officer for the National Natural History Museum, and his pension now amounts to the princely sum of Z$700 (Zimbabwean!!!!) per month. This will not even buy him a slice of bread, let alone a whole loaf. The inflation was running at 973% pa and now, a year later, it is at 1,790% per annum! When Ian and Larry took me to a lovely cake shop this came home forcibly to me. The cost of just the box to put the cakes in was Z$50,000! One hot cross bun was Z$47,000.

A Talbot Sunbeam stored on blocks in his garden, and in other parts were even more interesting vehicles.

There was a bull-nosed Morris, a couple of Model 'T' Fords (one really just the chassis left) and a fascinating 1920s Hunter's Caravan.

I was taken around the town for a tour of the centre of Bulawayo, and it was easy to see what a beautiful city it had been before Indpendence. Alas, the present Regime seems hell bent on destroying all the beauty that was there. The racecourse, the cricket ground, the public parks, all were now shoulder high with weeds and over grown shrubs.

The Foundation Stone for this Church was laid by Cecil Rhodes himself.

Bulowayo town Hall

There are OFFICIALLY Z$200,000 to £1.In practice it is nearer to Z$500,000 to the £1, as when I was there in March it was Z$400,000 to the £1 Now this is the place to be a millionaire (NOT!) How on earth people carry on I just do not know. We went to collect a pizza for Larry's daughter, and it took 2 minutes to order the thing, 20 minutes for it to be cooked, and a hour for the money to be counted! It cost Z$850,000 and imagine counting that out in Z$2,000 notes when someone comes up to speak to you half way through counting it. It was like Comic Cuts, I can tell you.

 Suddenly there was the most enormous explosion in the not to far distance. We all looked at each other in fear and trembling, wondering what on earth could have happened. Then, a minute later, all lights went out. It turned out that the electricity sub-station serving that part of Bulawayo had blown up. Larry and I quickly got in the car, and she drove to the Pizza shop, hoping against hope that it had still got power. The relief when we saw the lights on was rather great. We dashed in, and ordered the pizza. Sitting down at a table, I was amused by the passing scene. At that time, there were 400,000 Zimbabwean Dollars to the £1. The cost of the Pizza was Z$ 1,200,000. No money counting machine was available, and no sooner would the poor girl on the cash register get to 500,000, than someone would come and speak to her and she would lose count. Starting over again, the same thing happened half a dozen times. I observed that it took 2 minutes to order the Pizza, 20 minutes to cook it, and an hour to count the money being paid for it.

At that time, inflation was terrible - it was 3,000% p.a. (the official rate was just over 1,000%)! At least I understood then why there had been so many men waving those bundles of notes as we can over the border - they wanted to change their money out of Zimbabwean Dollars into something which had some value.

The braai was cooked to perfection, and we sat down to a most wonderful feast (Martin had also joined us by now, as Larry & I had gone straight to the school to delivery the Pizza then back to her friend's house). It was a wonderful experience, but the following day, even better was to follow.

Martin was out early, as he was teaching in one of the schools for the day. Larry and Ian came and collected me - but not until I had explored the grounds of the house, as Martin had invited me to do. In the garden there were all manner of vehicles. A couple of Model 'T' Fords, a Hunter's caravan circa 1920, complete with the racks for the guns over the driver's head, and all the original fittings still in the back. There was a bull nosed Morris and a MG Magnette, various minis and even, piece de resistance, a mobile engineering workshop, built for Marshall's of Cambridge in the 1950's. He returned at lunch time, and then showed me what he refers to as his 'Harrods'. This is a long building in his garden that is a total museum of everyday life in Colonial Africa - not laid out in any sort of order, but things stuffed into every concievable nook and cranny - old motorcycles, pith helmets, old cookers, basket chairs - you name it, Martin has it in there. He also had dozens, if not hundreds, of old leather attachee cases, and each one bore a number. The number coincided with a period in history, and inside, for instance 'Ancient Greece' there would be some ancient coins, pictures of clothing, writings, indeed a potted hostory of Greece which he uses for teaching children. Fabulous.

Girl's College, Bulawayo

Larry & Ian came and collected me to take me to the school, called Girls College, where they have their daughters. Built at the turn of the 20th Century it is one of the best schools in Zimbabawe, but the fees were escalating at an alarming rate, due to the devaluation, now almost daily, of the Zimbabwean Dollar.  Heather and Paige were coming up to very important exam years in their education, and Paige was an exceptional athlete as well. She represented her country at swimming and we were taken to see the schools fantastic facilities.  All Heather wanted was a Pizza, so we had collected one for her the previous evening, and had delivered it quickly to her before taking ourselves back to the DeBeers for the Braai.

We had, of course, taken cakes for the girls as a big treat for them.

Paige was not able to join us at this time as she was busy in class, but Heather was allowed to pop out and see her parents for a few minutes, and take us to see her pretty living quarters.

It was time to head back to Francistown, and first a little detour to call in at Modumela, a game reserve and Lodge just over the border back into Botswana. It was a delightful Lodge, but had no guests staying at the time, as formerly a lot of its guests had been visitors who wanted to visit Zimbabwe as well as Botswana, but now the situation in Zimbabawe was so bad, it was just not easy to do the two Country safari. It was a good 12 Km off the main road, and had a welcome waterhole too, but the only wildlife we saw in the couple of hours we were there were the ostriches which, I was told, were 'quite aggressive' and this amazing blue tailed gecko.

Modumela Lodge

The 'Aggressive' Ostriches

The Blue tailed Gecko

 After a cooling drink, we were soon back at Larry & Iains house, but they had another treat planned for me that I was totally unaware of.

My first orphanage experience

This little girl is one of the most beautiful children I have ever seen - quite stunningly lovely.

I had tried to find out where the orphanage my friend had told me about was, but all I could find out was that it was at Mahalpye., about 400km north of Gaborone. It had been impossible to search for it as I travelled south with Phil and Gabi, so I resolved to see if I could find out more about it once they had left for home after a few days. I got the telephone number to the Bishop's Office at the Cathedral in Gaborone, and after a few different people trying to help me and passing my call from one to another, I finally got to speak to the office of the National President of the Mother's Union. It was arranged that I would go there the following day to meet Agnes. Of course, sensible me had not actually asked where her office was physically situated, and she had just said she would meet me at the Cathedral. At the appointed time I entered the Cathedral, having managed to park my car in a very crowded car park. This was my first surprise. The Cathedral was packed to the door. People ushered me toward a seat, but I managed to escape, as it was obvious that some sort of service was about to begin. There were a couple of young ladies standing at the back wearing badges, so I tiptoed to them, and in a low whisper asked what was about to happen (no service had as then started). Oh, it is a funeral memorial service for a well known young person who killed himself last week, they told me. Very matter of fact and no trace of emotion. Quickly I asked where the MU office was situated. They directed me out of the Cathedral, then a trek around the back to a series of low concrete block buildings, painted white with the MU blue paint on the woodwork.

Right - Agnes, Centre - Julia Left - the Lady in charge at the Orphanage. This was taken at the orphanage but inside the church.

Relieved, I entered to be greeted by the friendliest lady I think I have ever had the good fortune to meet in such circumstances. I had been so acutely embarrassed to find myself leaving just as a funeral was about to begin - and I was not the only white person there, so it seemed even more strange, I am sure. I was so pleased to meet Julia. We chatted about her work, and she kept apologising for Agnes, the President, not having been there to meet me. After about an hour Agnes arrived in a cloud of dust and squealing brakes. She had just returned from Mahalapye after one of her many visits to make sure everything there was running smoothly.

This little one was upset because he couldn't keep my camera!

She had decided that she would like to show me around some of her projects around Gaborone, so it was into the mini-bus with Julia at the wheel, Agnes beside her and me in the back. I think I have mentioned before the dreadful driving in that city. I am sure the first thing prospective drivers learn is to close their eyes and get their foot as hard down on the accelerator as possible. She was, as I said, a really friendly lady. However, it is a little un-nerving to have a conversation with the driver who insists on turning round to talk to you whilst propelling the vehicle at break-neck speeds through city traffic. At one memorable stage, she was actually asking me what I thought of the standard of driving in Botswana, and she had not looked at the road for a good 2 minutes at the time. It is very difficult to be polite when sheer terror is overtaking you.

More of the lovely children who all look very healthy and cared for, thanks to the wonderful work at St. Peters.

The laddie with the big grin on the left rejoices in the name of Prince and what a character he is.

We got to a triangular building which had high concrete fencing around it, and it transpired that this was St Peter's Church, Mogoditshane. (Strange coincidence - Vic also lives in Mogoditshane but didn't know this place existed - second thought, not so strange really as church and Vic don't really see eye to eye!)

The Children, like children the world over, love painting. Except here they only had green and yellow paint.

I was taken to the Rectory and met the most charismatic Rector I think I have ever had the good fortune to be introduced to. Andrew had trained at Mirfield, Huddersfield, so he immediately enjoyed hearing my Yorkshire accent.

With some of the most enthusiastic volunteers any centre could hope to have - full of love and care for the children.

He and Agnes were talking about the building of the new orphanage, and he mentioned that the £1,000 promised by someone was not now going to materialise, which would severely hold up the dream of getting it built. It was to equip the kitchen and bathrooms. Without those, the rest of the orphanage could not be built. He ended up with just saying that they would just have to keep praying, and that he felt sure the Lord would answer his prayers sooner or later. (None of this conversation was directed at me, and I spent my time quietly chatting to Julia whilst this was going on)
.

More beautiful smiles and more green and yellow paintings.

Now Agnes took me to meet the children. They were picked up each morning, and transported there, fed and looked after all day, and then they would go to wherever they were to spend the night. These little ones have no parents, and it is only the care and attention of the Mother's Union Members that provides them with clothing and food and a nights shelter. They are some of the happiest children who have seen the hardest of lives, and have little hope of any sort of existence without the orphanages. They are just the tip of the iceberg that is the AIDS/HIV legacy in Africa general and Botswana in this case.

They were all gathering round to sing a song to me - talk about emotional!

I spent the most amazing couple of hours there, taking their photographs, which they loved and clamoured to see, and talking with their helpers. These young people have endless patience and thoughout the whole work they do, their faith is a wonderful example. I felt completely out of my depth. These little ones with nothing were so happy just playing and chatting - just like children the world over really. They had never seen a digital camera, and the squeals of delights when they saw their photographs will remain with me always. When I arrived, they were doing some painting. However, they only had Green and Yellow paints, so every photo was a study in green and yellow. I resolved there and then to make sure that I would bring back a rainbow of paints for them, as well as pencils and crayons and everything else I could carry.




I am just going to add their photos, but I cannot add their names - for their own sakes as much as anything else. They certainly provided me with a totally new direction for my life without even realising it.

Smiles, smiles and more smiles - from children who have nothing to smile about compared to children in the UK.

After the emotional visit to orphanage, Julia propelled the mini-bus to a lovely Lodge for a cool drink for us. Agnes still had one more project she wanted to show me. This lady had been in dire need of a home, and the Mother's Union had built her this house. As she was very ill, she had a couple of young people to help her, this young man, and there was a lovely young lady who was busy preparing lunch for her - and who was very camera shy, so I didn't take her photo.
It is a very worthwhile project that they had completed and were justifiably very proud of what they had achieved.

It was impossible for me to spend longer with Agnes (my nerves would not take a lot more of the driving for one thing!) but I hoped to be able to return one day with some paints for the children, as well as lots of other things I could see they desperately needed.

Where the young care for the old and infirm as a matter of choice and pleasure - no relation of this lady, who had none, but just a volunteer helping out with the Mother's Union work.

I had made arrangements on my way north some weeks before, to return to Clifton School and spend longer with Larry and Ian, and this I was able to do the following day. I was SO grateful for Terry's amazing kindness in lending me a car, so, with bag packed once more, I was off on the road up to Francistown again. I do love to get on that road north - and this time I did not have any idea just where it was going to lead me eventually, and I was prepared for anything. I shall tell you about my incredible journey next time.

A few days in Gaborone before going North again.

Arriving back at Vic’s was wonderful. He does a very good impression of being pleased to see us – well I know it is genuine where Phil and Gabi are concerned, but having me back there chattering all the time, must be a strain on someone used to a quiet life!
He had laid in enough food to feed a battalion, so we ate like royalty yet again. Terry came over as well, so we got really stuck into a mountain of steak cooked to perfection by Vic on the Braai. It had been a long and rather tiring day – particularly for Gabi, travelling as she did in the back of the truck. The heat of the day had been pretty intense, and whilst Phil had arranged the canvas in such as way as to let in some flow of air, it must have been most uncomfortable for her.
As I was saying…. Now I was back in Gaborone, and Vic had told me the previous visit about a fence that I really should see. You may recall the one made out of Cable Drum sides that I included a photo of earlier in this saga, and this one is even better in some ways. It surrounds a second hand car spares place, and is quite ingenious.

It is constructed using old Car bonnets - but no doubt, if you needed one of them, for the right price the boss would take it out of his fence. Gives a whole new slant on the word 'Stockade'.


I had received an email from a friend in the north of Scotland telling me about an orphanage that had been opened recently and would I visit it and take some photos. She had no idea where I was staying, or where the place I was to look for was situated. As it happened, it was some 400Km north of Gaborone, but I would do my best to find it – well what is 400 Km when you live 6,500 miles away?

I was again very fortunate – nay I was fantastically lucky! – because Terry once again came to my rescue with the offer of a car to drive. What a blessing that was. I had been to a Garden Centre with Vic and had been absolutely enchanted by it, so now I had to find it again on my own. Normally, in Europe and the UK, I have no problem whatsoever orientating myself. All that skill desserts me in Africa. I think I said once before, that when you grow up in the Northern hemisphere you KNOW that the sun rises in the east, goes to the south at midday, and sets in the west. Easy peasy! Just look where the shadow is and you know where you are. WRONG in Africa! The sun in the North at midday is confusing to say the least. Add to this the fact that I had so far not seen any single map of Gaborone, so didn’t even know the direction from the City centre where Vic lives and you have a recipe for instantly getting lost. Well, sorry folks, I didn’t get lost. I DID visit all sorts of places unexpectedly, and certainly not on any tourist trail. I just call it the scenic route!

The garden Centre was wonderful, and these are some of the photos I took there, From the fully grown trees, to the gravels and stones used on gardens, everything was so different to a UK garden centre. Except of course, for the roses.

The gravels were something out of this world – as one who has worked with semi-precious stones I found it fascinating to see them in their natural state, ready to just cover a garden!

This red gravel is Diamond gravel

Blue Jaspers

 

and Tiger's eye (strange that it comes from Africa, where the Tigers don't live!)

Seeing so many roses in bloom in February also was unknown for me

The ever present Zebra Butterflies and I did manage to get a close up of this one

Of course, as I have told you before, they never let their wings stop fluttering, so it was difficult to photograph, but you can at least see it more clearly than others I have taken.

This double Bougainvillea was stunning.

And the perfume from this stephanotis was just overpoweringly beautiful

I had arranged to go to Vic’s office to access my email one day, and yes, he had taken me there a couple of days before. Could I find it? Well, suffice it to say that instead of the 10 or 12Km it is to his office, I actually did about 35. Here is Sir at his desk, and you can see from the look on his face that he is rather amused that I had taken so long to find his office!

My dear friend Vic

I had also arranged to meet up with Phil and Gabi at a shopping centre for lunch. ‘Oh, yes, I know where Riverwalk is.’ had been my proud boast! Well, I had been there a couple of times with Terry last October. Mmmm. I had not taken the notice I thought I had taken of the route, had I? When you pass the same spot for the 4th time, you get a little concerned. I had to stop and phone Gabi a couple of times, but at the 5th attempt I did arrive. Too late for lunch, but in time to enjoy a long cold drink.

I spent a very happy half hour in the computer shop there – bought a set of speakers for my MP3 player for a mere £35 instead of the £70+ they would have cost here. How I was wishing I had unlimited shipping facilities. The chocolate fountain would certainly have been in my luggage if I could have carried it. Not for my own use, you understand, but so I could raise money with it for my charities. For those of you who have not seen a chocolate fountain it is a machine which melts chocolate then it flows over 3 different sized bowls and you just dip fruit or marshmallows into the melted chocolate to eat them chocolate coated! Mmm, wicked or what!!! (This was in February 2006, before they came to the UK other than commercial ones and a few very specialist shops may have had them).

The week I was back in Gaborone was wonderful, and I spent a whole day with the National President of the Mother’s Union visiting their orphanage in Gaborone. I shall tell you all about that next time…..

Back south before another adventure

Dawn on my last morning at Garden Lodge on the Chobe River (http://www.thegardenlodge.com/)

Leaving The Garden House and its wonderful staff was a huge wrench. I had been welcomed like a member of Gabi's family, and the only saving grace in leaving, was that the three of us were travelling together. This in itself was a testament to friendship. They do not have a car or vehicle with 4 seats in the cab. No, it had been a lot of work for Phil to adapt one of their vehicles to take all the luggage - and we had lots! - and then make room for a mattress in the back. Gabi took up her position laying on the mattress, whilst Phil drove and I sat like the Queen Mother in splendid comfort in the cab! I felt pretty awful about Gabi going all those miles in the back, but she would not hear of my changing places with her. Phil did, however, change with her, and again, Gabi and I chattered like two monkeys for mile upon mile.

This was my last (perhaps) sight of the entrance to Garden Lodge with its Setswana sign.

Talking to Phil is always a delight, too. He is such an intelligent, knowledgeable man, and our conversations were so interesting that the miles simply flew by. His stories of his time in the Rhodesian Police, and the problems that country under its present Government has to bear were many. I had not realised just how tribal some of the atrocities committed are. The Matabele are a very peaceable tribe who had been in positions of authority for many years, but the Shona, the tribe of the present Leader, have killed thousands of the Matabele in what is purely and simply a score settling exercise. It is to my eternal shame that I knew so little of the stories of our past colony. More of this situation would be corrected when I got further into my holiday.

We stopped at the usual vet fences, with their disinfectant troughs, and this photo I took at one of them. The vehicle on the left, with the canvas covered back, is the one we were travelling in. I don't think another sheet of tissue paper could have been forced into it we were carrying so much. There was the launcher for the Clay pigeons, there were boxes of clays and ammunition, a lot of luggage being delivered to Phil's son who had recently returned to South Africa from England where he had been educated. A very large mobile Freezer, which was wonderful, keeping our food and drinks icy cold - something of a real luxury on such a hot journey. Not to mention our own luggage - well, mine any way, because I had all my luggage with me this time, as opposed to the overnight case I had used on our 4 day trip to Maun - plus various parcels etc.

We pulled off the road for a coffee and a sandwich, and looking around, as I tend to do, I noticed this caterpillar. Neither Gabi nor Phil had ever seen one like it, so if anyone can tell me what it turns into, please do. It was about 4 inches long, and the hairs looked like spikes.

I had been very wary about getting out of the vehicle into the long grass, because I imagined snakes would be lurking everywhere. Fortunately I never saw a live one, although we did see one or two dead ones on the road.
You may recall me talking about the road becoming an airstrip in at least 3 sections of the route from Kasane down to Francistown. This is one of them. As you can see from the volume of traffic, it is not exactly going to cause huge disruption if one did have to land. Apparently, when I asked our pilot friends, they are only used in emergency and were really put there for military use during the Zimbabwean (Rhodesian) UDI time. Happily, nothing required our bit of road when we were travelling along it. Mind you, it would be one thing to buzz a vehicle to get out of the way, but imagine if an elephant were crossing! Ooops! A bit more of an obstacle than most pilots would imagine having to contend with.

The marks on the sky are actually on the windscreen, before you try enlarging the photo to find out the species of red bird!

We were travelling happily along when suddenly Phil said, -' Look - Ostrich!' Well by the time I got the camera switched on, this was all I managed to get!

It does, however, show the amount of greenery that had carpeted the land - now lush and even more green than when I had driven up it some 2½ weeks before.

We were heading for Francistown, and these next two photos I took to show the contrast. The first one I had taken on my way south with Vic and Terry in October, and the other on this journey south
.

and now

Again, apologies for the marks on the windscreen, but I am sure you get the effect. Hard to believe it is even the same country, isn't it?

This is a very quick snap I took of the swallows that had left our shores last Autumn, and will return this coming summer. They were swooping and diving all around us, but since they fly so very quickly, it was almost impossible to get a photo of them, which is why I just got these few resting on the power lines. It is strange how the sight of swallows gladden the heart, isn't it? Rather like the daffodils in spring.

We stayed overnight again at Gelli and Butch's house, and all the animals were there to make sure they were noticed. They are not allowed into the kitchen, but this was a very tempting moment for them.

Gabi called me out to one of the sheds where spare Freezers are kept. She wanted me to see THIS! It is a King Cricket and I was horrified by its size. Needless to say, I did not hang around long enough to look too closely - a click of the shutter and I was off!

The following morning, we went to Serowe to get the vehicle serviced. The family who own the garage were extraordinarily kind to us. They loaned Phil and Gabi a double cab vehicle, and off we went to the Khama Rhino Sanctuary. I had not known we were going there, and to my horror my batteries were almost flat for my cameras. Whilst I do have car battery chargers, they were left in the vehicle being serviced, so I just had to be content with a couple of photos. The first thing we saw was this beautiful wild Nerine lily. Of course, at this point I didn't realise just how flat my camera battery was, so I clicked away!

and then we got to the edge of the Pan (the name, as you have no doubt realised, for a lake or body of water).

There were Wildebeest, Impala, Zebra all drinking and it was magic. Trouble was, we were a long way away, and trying to zoom in used up the last of my power in the battery. You will have to be patient with me and forgive the tiny figures of animals.

All the visit went from one wonder to another - we rounded a bend, and suddenly there was a huge Rhino about 30 metres from the car. What heartbreak! No camera in action!! Of course, it meant that I just wanted to re-visit the Sanctuary, but heaven knew when, indeed, if ever, I could do that!

Back to Serowe, we had been invited for lunch at the friends house. What an experience of pure hospitality and friendship that was. One of the most memorable times of my stay, we went to the most wonderful house imaginable - and no camera!!! What a shame!

The family is one of the oldest in Botswana, and their story is the stuff of legend. The great-grandfather had gone out at a trader at the end of the 19th Century, and was doing very nicely at it. The thing he lacked was a wife, and there were few white women of eligible age who were single. During his travels he had met up with an Irish family who had taken in an orphan girl of about 14 years. He was 30+ at the time. Doing what he knew best, which was trading cattle, and there had been a disease which had wiped out a lot of the stock, he did what came as second nature to him. He offered some stock in exchange for the girl. Frowned on, no doubt, by later generations, all was agreed. They were married and lived a very long and loving life, producing a large family, one of whom I was delighted to meet. She is the mother of the present garage owner. She and her husband had started the business back in about 1942, and had also had various other sidelines, like a cafe etc. Their son now runs the business, and in turn his children are also taking over. They have been politicians but their main concern is the welfare of their people, and the Rhino Sanctuary. They are, as I said, one of the most well known, and highly respected families in the country, and for me it was an enormous honour to have been invited to their home.

Phil and Gavin talked at length about the pre-colonial history of Rhodesia, and the lack of any written history, but of course, back then it was only an oral tradition, and therefore extremely difficult to research. I was to find later someone whom Phil would be able to consult on his quest. Talk about doors opening and meeting extraordinary people most unexpectedly. I can never believe how it seems to happen to me. Perhaps it is something to do with the fact that I love people and am curious about them and their stories. (Or is it just plain old Yorkshire nosiness?)

Once the car was ready, it was time to head down the road to Gaborone, and to inflict ourselves on Vic, yet again. He is an excellent host - and he and Phil go back a long way, so it is always good to see them, as Vic would say 'talking shit!' (meaning, rubbish of course!). .
They have it down to a fine art, and have always got a one liner to come back at anyone with.
Vic's garden had grown a lot on the time I had been enjoying myself at Garden Lodge, and this photo I took from under the thatch covering the Jacuzzi - and no, I wasn't IN the jacuzzi at the time!

Now I had a couple of days to spend with Vic - laughing non-stop as usual. Gabi and Phil took me to a garden Centre, the likes of which I had never seen before, with the tropical plants in profusion. Next time I will show you a few of the photographs I took there. However, I now had received an email from a friend in the north of Scotland. She told me she had read of an orphanange and wondered if I would pop in and take a look at it. Pop in? It was 300 miles north of Gaborone, but since I was going to drive back up to Francistown to re-visit the many friends I had made there, I would try to find it. It was to be a very memorable trip in many ways.