I Take It Back, Trial Separation Over

Difficult?  Difficult is trying to give up this blog, as it’s kind of like the final nail in the coffin of admittance that I no longer live in one of the most beautiful places in the world.  It’s difficult when my readership continues to rise, despite my month-long break from writing.  It’s difficult when I realize that a world suffering from environmental issues, terrorist violence, and scares like Ebola needs more than ever to educate itself about other cultures and far-off places.  And it’s also difficult when I continue to read news about my former country of Zim and want to share my thoughts about the systems of corruption and renewal we saw over and over and over during our time there.

So I’m taking back what I said in my previous post. Perhaps it was my own personal second-guessing, saying to myself, "Who am I to have a blog about Africa anymore??" And perhaps it was the self inflicted deadlines and not the blog itself that left me feeling like I should give things up rather than to pull a slight bit back.  I wasn’t producing the amount I personally had in the past and so I threw the baby out with the bathwater. Much. Too. Hastily.

 So I’m making a new promise. I’ve stayed away from this blog for a month with great difficulty, and I’m done with the trial separation. I’m not giving up this blog; but I will admit it just won’t be as actively kept-up as when I lived on the continent.  This time around I won’t give myself deadlines, or make promises about how often I will post.  But when I find things relevant to African things I find fascinating or know a lot about, or when I feel like sharing a piece of my history, or when I recognize yet another way my Zim experience has flavored my own personal evolution, I promise to spend time sharing it with my readers. 

I’ve been doing a lot of job hunting lately, as well as showing friends around our (temporarily) European lives. It’s helped me to put into perspective things that I know and skills that I have.  Thus far in our new but very temporary Spanish lives, I have to admit it. I want to hang my head in shame when I think about how we’ve accessed a new culture here in Europe verses during our time in Africa. My limitations in my new life have revolved around my digestive needs (still battling that lil’ African stomach illness 20 months later), monetary restrictions, and linguistic frustrations.  And at the same time that these failings of mine have been highlighted, I have been able to recognize that I can be proud of what I learned in Africa. 

I can say that I learned a great, great deal about Zimbabwe, Zambia, Namibia, Botswana, South Africa, Malawi, Tanzania, and Mozambique over the last few years. More than most of my counter-parts in the same situation, I dove head-first into the cultures around me, tried new foods, enjoyed incredible adventures, and shared a part in thousands of stories currently creating new paths on what used to ridiculously be considered a hopeless continent.  I know my southern Africa.  And the piece of my heart that does not care about political safety or the comforts of a thermostat or proper healthcare or my child’s formal education will always live right there on its plains. So "who am I to have a blog about Africa??" I'm a girl who knows a thing or two, and, most importantly, is ready to keep learning.  That's who.  You won´t find me giving up as easily next time.

After looking at the wonderful world of cubicles and commutes, I’ve decided my dream job would be for someone to call me up and ask me to personally give them a tour of southern Africa.  I would do it well, and comfortably, and safely, and with a true knowledge of life outside of the colonial bubble that is most of tourist-made Africa.  Any takers? 

If you’ve ever wanted to go to Africa but don’t know how to make it happen, let me know.  If you’ve ever wanted to be connected with a legitimate African non-profit but don’t know how, let me know. If you want me to tell you what my first hand opinions are on some of the biggest needs of southern Africa, let me know. And in the meantime, while I desperately consider how we can eventually return someday-somewhere, I will keep Africa alive in my heart and at the top of my blog roll.  Stay tuned - whenever I decide to post again.

I Wish I Had Time to Tell You

A very smart person I know once told me that one of people’s biggest problems was that they didn’t do math properly; it’s impossible to keep adding things to one’s life without taking something else away.  As I look at my slivers of free time, torn between wanting to spend every second with my child and husband, just getting in a little more sleep, investing in future projects, and the two hundred other things on my list, it has become apparent.  Maybe it should have been apparent when I had a housekeeper and a gardener and still wasn’t always finding time to brush my teeth before noon.  Maybe it should have been apparent when I had no job and still couldn’t find the time in my calendar to go to the doctor when I needed it.  Maybe it should have been apparent when I had a kid in school for half days and still couldn’t manage to do that exercise regimen I always told myself I’d adopt if only I had a few hours to myself each day.

I never have enough time. And it’s because I have been terrible at doing my math.

Almost every white local I knew in Zim made their opinions of my family clear often; I really should be having more “white babies” if I could at all help it.  What a terrible shame that my son had no siblings.  In a land of large families, something was terribly wrong with my family according to Zim standards.  My response was always a long and complicated one, but needless to say, it always involved wanting to be able to provide my best for my existing child, who I didn’t know how to care for with the same level of competent care if I carried on with more children. 

“Oh, that’s simple,” I was responded to during the last time I discussed the matter in Zim. “You don’t take anything away from the first. Your love, your patience, etc, stay the same. It’s just time that you lose.  You just have to share your time more.  Easy.”  As if time was not already one of the most valuable, rare things in my life. 

It was, however, an easy thing for a Zimbabwean to say. This Zimbabwean’s math was influenced by the fact that she sent her children away to boarding school at five. Oh, and also she had never had any of her five children without also having three housekeepers on hand to help with nannying.  Sharing my time more, it is clear now that from my Spanish surroundings I have work, a child at home full time, and no staff, is tougher than ever before.  It’s no longer possible to share any more of my time without losing the quality of my ability to be a mother.  Or a human being. 

Time is a more precious commodity than I can express.  But lately I haven’t been acting like it.  And though I’ve said and thought over and over about how much I value it, the truth is that recently I’ve been adding a lot and taking away nothing… except quality.  And presence.  And energy.  It’s time to start doing my math again.

I should clarify that I am desperate to keep this blog.  It’s one of my last connections to Zim.  And I still have oodles to say.  And thousands of pictures to show.  I still serves its purpose in sharing the continent with those who have not experienced it themselves.  And it allows a number of Africans to commiserate on what they love or miss or want to change about their homeland.  It’s been wildly more successful than I ever imagined and now I feel a certain amount of obligation to keep it going.

But I need to start doing my math.

Here is what I wish I still had time to write about: the malaria thing, the recent farm take-overs in the Save Conservancy, Clean Water vs Harare’s City water, the never ending bloom of Zimbabwean cassia trees, the spread of the magical acacia tree canopy, and the craziness that is the giant millipede called the chongololo. 

I wish I had time to discuss with you the complexities of a Zimbabwean white minority that is more economically powerful than the black majority but has no political power, a fascinating anthropological study in the making. 

I wish I had time to discuss our experiences with the 2014 elections, the burning orange flowers of the flame tree, all the different uses of thatching, the craziness of police stops where window-smashing often occurs, the rules of the road around the pres. mansion, the fragility of the Zimbabwean electrical grid, the how-tos of surviving being passed by the pres. motorcade, the rows of toilets that line the countryside next to rural schools, the oodles of hospitable places we’ve stayed, how gardeners and laymen often grow and paint one long fingernail to be used as a tool, and the giant rat (it’s a real thing, which we actually had in our yard- look it up!). 

I wish I had time to tell you about “The Big Five” and “The Little Five,” the miniature size of parking spaces and how there are only a handful of car brands that make it into the country, what the Harare Airport is like and how it used to be before Zimbabwe made itself into a political pariah, what The Great Dyke is, and how children’s names and ages are often changed in orphanages to make paper-work easier.

I want you to know about Chiboku (the homemade street beer that often includes fermenting the likes of pieced apart animals, weeds, and car batteries, and is said to age a person five times faster than regular beer). 

I want to tell you about the Rhodesian Ridgeback, the out of control rumor mill that runs the country when the papers do not report truths, the loveliness that is The Farmhouse in Chimanimani, the endangered wild dogs of Zim, the awkward transition of renaming things back to Shona after having colonial names for a hundred years, the Shona totem (an inherited personal symbolic animal indicating familial lineage), the endangered rhino, a crazy assortment of encountered bugs, the taste of an African cucumber, and the future of a people who cannot seem to let go of the past. 

If you want to know more about Zimbabwe beyond this blog, these are great but tiny places to start.

Stay tuned for one more, last post on some of the things I have learned from Mother Africa.  And in the meantime, know that I am grateful to those of you who followed our journey through these last few years as we awkwardly but enthusiastically embraced this amazing continent we will always consider a piece of home.  It's been humbling to have readers follow our thoughts and adventures, and it is truly with sadness that we finish before the story feels entirely told.  The late and great Maya Angelou once said, "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." Have us over for a cup of Rooibos sometime; we'll tell you anything more you want to know.

sunset photos by friend Lucy Fisher

For questions, comments, that cup of tea, or better yet a personal tour around southern Africa, contact us at: cherijohnsondesign@gmail.com

Africa, Uncolonized

It's been one of those months in which a lot of unexpected "what ifs" have popped into my life.  While I'm busy dealing with my own, here's a little "what if" I found fascinating...

Click here for this new perspective on African colonialism: Africa, Uncolonized: A Detailed Look at an Alternate Continent

Africa Doesn't Need (Dumb) Volunteers

Loved this!  Thanks, Global Citizen.  

Simple Silver

I'm not mad at Africa for many things, but I could have done without the loss of my husband's wedding ring.  It now sits under the waters of a lake just outside of the village of Ruwa in northeastern Zimbabwe. It was more of a sentimental loss than financial, as I quickly found out upon entering Zim that there is nothing foreigners love more than buying silver while in the country. Silver is remarkably cheap -startlingly cheap- in this part of the world, and many tourists love to jump on the opportunity to buy their loved ones shiny precious things during their visit to southern Africa.

My husband's original wedding ring, purchased while we were still in school, was no giant expenditure.  At only a few hundred dollars, we thought it was already an affordable piece of jewelry, given the fact that it was intended for all of eternity and whatnot.  Imagine my surprise when three year old Jonas and I went to pick out a new ring for our anniversary later that year and found out that, despite buying one of a higher quality, the ring just cost us... thirteen dollars!  Shh, please don't tell my husband.  They weren't kidding.  Cheap, cheap silver...

Coca-Cola, Taking Over Africa One Street at a Time

I have mentioned before that the status symbol of having Coca-Cola is great.  If ever we wanted to treat our staff to something special, buying them a few liters of Coke was the ultimate. Notorious for indicating wealth, it was common practice in Harare for people to carry used Coca-Cola bottles around with them, typically filled with water, but giving the appearance of having means.

If I would have started collecting pictures of Coca-Cola ads when we first arrived in Africa, I would have had thousands by now.  Coca-Cola pervades Africa.  (Ask anyone if they know what a Pepsi is and they will give a blankly confused stare.) And because Delta Beverages is happy to make signs for other companies that sell its products, you can find it on the fronts of hotels, supermarkets, restaurants, butcheries, stadiums, street signs, stores, investment companies, and even a few churches.  While I may eventually put some elbow grease into writing a blog on how the Chinese appear to actually be taking over Africa, Coca-Cola is a very, very close second...

Broom Cluster Fig

Want to see a crazy tree?  Done!  Meet the strange broom cluster fig.

Known for its dense, spreading crown, the broom cluster fig tree offers popular puddles of cool shade for animals and people alike, from the northern-most tip of Africa all the way down to the Cape of South Africa.  But the best part of this fast-growing African tree is its crazy look.  Though they seem like warts, these fig clusters not only grow on the tree´s upheld arms- they actually grow on the roots sometimes, too!  

Some indigenous African people have long-held beliefs in the magical powers of this tree, and use it in religious ceremonies and celebrations. Its notoriously soft white wood is often used for making drums, and its inner-bark is a popular rope-making material. The milky sap is also known to treat throat ailments and boils.  But everyone´s favorite?  

Its fruit!  The figs are ripe and ready when they turn an orangish-red!

So many figs, but no fig newtons.  Sigh....

Crossing The Aggressive Zambezi

Don't be frightened by the words "tourist destination." As one of the most visited places on the continent of Africa, the oasis known as Victoria Falls really does feel like paradise.  The Zimbabwean town of Victoria Falls surrounding this jaw-dropping attraction is nothing if not a hamlet of tourism for the country of Zim.  Few tourists pass through the country without making a stop to this north-western corner of the country.

In addition to seeing the falls, there is plenty to do from the adventurous to the relaxing: bungee jumping, rafting, sunset cruises, lion walks, elephant rides, high tea, shopping, swimming, spas, and hiking. In a place that showcases some of the best of Africa, I happily spent my days there with more to do than I had time for.  Looking one warm day for a new perspective of the misty falls and wanting get some wiggles out of my little one without risking breaking items in a shop, we decided to cross the bridge into Zambia.  Though it doesn't sound as official as some of the other activities I've mentioned, everyone visiting Vic Falls must check out the incredible Vic Falls Bridge, one of only three ways to cross the roaring Zambezi River from Zim to Zambia.

As the fruition of Cecil Rhodes' vision to connect Zambia and Zimbabwe as a part of the (never finished) Capetown to Cairo railway, the Victoria Falls Bridge spans the beastly second gorge of Victoria Falls. Built in just 14 months, the bridge was constructed first in England before making its way in pieces to be hung across a misty span of 198 meters above a raging river full of whirlpools and crocodiles.  Without a single pier in the water, the bridge floats in mid-air, stretching its arms to connect two rumbling pieces of land that vibrate with the force of the nearby falls. It hurts my brain to think of how this would be built today.  But this beautiful link between two countries was completed in 1905, a feat as big as the falls themselves!

Below are some pictures of our trek to the Zambian side of the Zambezi River, as well as the ins and outs of getting through this cross-point for pedestrians, cars, and trains alike.

 

 Pedestrians wanting access to the bridge just need to continue walking down the one and only road (A8) that borders Zimbabwe´s Victoria Falls National Park.  

On the bridge itself, there are guided tours that focus on the bridge's construction.  These tours go under the main deck of the bridge, offering a unique perspective.   

Most visitors who stop in the Zim-Zam immigration office find themselves waived through with little problem, a quick glance at the books, and no stamp in the passport. 

 Pedestrians get through faster than monkeys, cars, trucks and trains, which often crawl or sit in inspection lines for hours.

 It seemed rickety for a bridge that has a two lane highway and so much on it... This sign made us a little nervous!

 Our view from above.  As with almost all of my other Vic Falls photos: rainbows everywhere!  The shadow of the bridge can be seen on the bottom left.

 On either end of the bridge, aggressive men tried to convince us to bite the bullet and bungee jump. The Shearwater Bungee Jump provides an 111 meter (364 foot) bungee drop above one of the world's most dangerous rivers.  If the whirlpools, the fast flow and boulders, or the fall itself does not kill you, the parasites and bacteria in the water might!  This particular bungee sight is famous for a number of safety accidents.  Above we snickered as, to get across the bridge on the only pedestrian path, we all had to straddle and hop over a hair dryer cord in an awkward apologetic moment.  The blow dryer was being used to fix a bungee cord at the jump sight. 

That'll make your customers confident in you.

 

Vendors around the bridge, carrying bracelets and other small items, are aggressive to say the least.  Though they approached us in friendly ways with determined chit-chat, their incessant conversation and refusal to leave us alone was not ended until we finally, at least 15 minutes later, explained in our own aggressive way that we were in no way interested in buying any single thing and they were, furthermore, beginning to ruin the time that we just wanted to spend together without being hounded.  Telling vendors that you are local, whether or not you have an accent, always helps with price and sometimes with aggression.  I recognize these business men and women need to try their hardest to make their livings, but it is hard to be anything but unfriendly when sightseeing becomes a confrontation.

 

 Once on the Zambian side, a secluded cafe up a steep set of stairs on the right offers refreshments and an overlooking view of the river, bridge,and distant Vic Falls Hotel. Next to this cafe is a small (free!) museum about the bridge.

Aggressive river, aggressive vendors, and aggressive bungee businessmen? They're nothing compared to aggressive vervet monkeys.  Watch out for these kings of the bridge!

(first blogpost picture by friend Lucy Fisher!)

Best Creature in Africa: The Baobab

I am ashamed to admit this: when we first arrived in Africa, not only did I have no appreciation for the fat trees that showed up on every artists' canvas, but I thought they were down right ugly.  Then I came face to face with one.  And I was never the same again.

I have mentioned them in tiny ways before.  But when I close my eyes and think of Africa, the bright sun and the baobabs are what spread across my eyes.  

I call it a blessing to have crossed paths with these incredible giants.  My pictures will do no justice; Oh, promise me you'll google them. You'll be so happy you did.