Sunshine's African Kids: September 2007

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.