Zimbabwe - Hurrah for Harare?

Not a good time for a puncture then...

The north eastern corner of Zimbabwe is supposed to look a little like Scotland - rugged mountains and lush farmland.  It's a strange comparison, given that only one of the two is based entirely within the tropics.  (Yet the locals wear kilts in the other - go figure.)  At this time of year, the fields of Zimbabwean maize are golden.  Without regular rains to wash the sky clean, the yellow stain of burning stubble gives the rocky horizon a nicotine tinge.  An echo of Scotland, it certainly isn't and after days of dry landscape I'm crying out for a few lush green fields.

After processing smoothly through the border, I've skipped the spots I highlighted on my road notes: the Vumba Mountains, cave paintings and the balancing rocks.  I'm not hurrying, but the heat is sapping my enthusiasm to detour.  I cross Christmas Pass just outside Mutare and continue west, watchfully avoiding the police checks and speed traps on this main trunk route.

The bread basket of Africa - but are those silos full or empty?

I hit up Harare, the Zimbabwe capital, and decided to hole here for a couple of nights - to venture into the city, sight-see and perhaps catch some music.  But by 3pm the next day, I'm railing against a world where my bank cards are bouncing unfairly.  The Skype line taunts me by repeatedly dropping mid-call, and news over the email requires ever more input.  So much for that visit to the national gallery and botanical garden.

The work horse - old and new.  And weighing much the same...

On the plus side, I perform an oil change for the bike - at 52,000 miles, note to self - and then spend an hour in a local gym working off my malaise.  I think larium and lack of exercise are a bad mix for me, and I need to watch my mood swings: a few endorphins soon have me feeling much better.

Saturday morning: I'm taking the lazy solution and 'touring' the city by motorbike.  It's a good call, as the urban sprawl is very spread out.  Only 1.5m people live centrally (with another half million live in the surrounds) and a vehicle is essential to get around - there's no metro, tram or train network.  

The low rise accommodation and commercial property is unremarkable, and I think the only tell tale sign that this is a capital city would be the many signposts for diplomatic embassies.  The streets burble with business like so many other large towns I've ridden though, but it's low key. 

On reflection, then, there's not an immediate charm to the place - it's no Sydney, New York or Tokyo, say.  There's a sense of disrepair too, which is most likely a legacy of the downward spiral the Zimbabwean economy experienced from 2000 to a collapse in 2008.  Folks of all colours suffered as the regime went about it's land redistribution policy (below).

Inflation was commonly compared to interwar Germany, and food, fuel and medicine were in very short supply.  The country suffers the fourth highest incidence of HIV/AIDS infection; many (especially from the professional classes) have left the country, and unemployment leaves large groups of males with little to do. (This was clearly evidenced when I pulled in at at a town and chatted with the twenty young men who soon gathered around the motorbike.)

Nowadays, freshly pegged to the US dollar, the economy is bouncing back (5% GDP growth for both 2010 and 2011).  I imagine it'll be a long time before that is reflected in repaired roads and infrastructure, but at least the darkest days have passed.

I chat to a couple from South Africa who explain there has been a marked improvement recently.  There was a time, they said, when all tourists stopped coming to Zimbabwe because of safety issues and the simple awkwardness of eating in a restaurant (say) when all around you local people are starving hungry.  Tourist lodges went bust, and when I reach the town of Kariba on Saturday night it's almost deserted.

A friendly guy with a great name:  'Succeed'

You don't hear any such feedback from the Zim locals, mind.  Any negative comment concerning the government is a criminal offence.  Even after chatting about agriculture with one chap, he got very jumpy and ended the conversation quickly when I asked if I could take his photo.  I don't think he was camera shy - it was more an aversion to being 'on record', despite the very mild nature of our chat.

Reading up a little more, I learn Zimbabwe used to be the 'bread basket of Africa', but now suffers from many deserted farms.  Those appropriated by force from white farmers (as widely reported in the international press) and re-allocated to black owners have often failed: the skills and passion needed to work a farm successfully have been lost, or never learnt.  It's a sad situation. 

I'm here, camping in grounds opening onto Lake Kariba, in order to catch the Monday ferry down to Mlibizi.  (It's a safer route than the very remote back road down to Victoria Falls.)  I've been delighted this morning to find myself surrounded by wildlife - birds and beetles, and a few larger things too.  Five elephants, four hippo, two crocodiles and a giant stork.  All within 50m of my flimsy looking tent!

I'm enjoying the lakeside relaxation: there's a bar, cable TV for the cricket, internet and pub food.  And those wild elephants?  I have one over my shoulder right now, not 50ft away...