Month: August 2022

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Life in Africa – We’re OK, we drink plenty

Japan is issuing stern instructions to their youth to drink more.  They need the sin tax for economic growth it appears.

I have long pondered how the Zimbabwe economy staggers on, and I think I finally understand. 

I read quite a lot of opinion pieces (propaganda), where the government assures everyone that everything is under control and Zimbabwe is booming because of this or that and that it is absolutely fine for them to replace their entire fleet of cars with new Mercedes as a result.

Even when I diligently read the critics and their take on the Zimbabwe economy, I can’t make any sense of it.

We asked one of the banks here recently if, in fact, the seemingly popular purchasing of the Zimbabwe “Mosi-oa-Tunya” gold coin is stabilising things as is being claimed, and they answered ‘No comment’

And therefore we drink.  Because we are confused as to HOW Zimbabwe staggers on.  Well, really, a Zimbabwean has never needed an excuse to drink.

And here is the answer people!  The Japanese know.

When South Africa banned booze (and cigarettes and open toed shoes of course) because some bright spark decided this would help eliminate Covid 19, the Zimbabweans nodded knowingly. That isn’t ever going to happen in Zimbabwe.

Politics is quite harsh in Zimbabwe, but they know better than to take away a Zimbabwean’s beer.

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Topical – Full Disclosure

Did you hear about the Russian cosmonaut that was outside of the space ship doing some job or the other when he was advised to return to base immediately because his battery pack was likely to malfunction and leave him in all kinds of poo?

He must have bought his power pack from the same little streets of Beira shop I did. I also didn’t give them a rave review on line.

First, what is the difference between a cosmonaut and an astronaut?  Apparently nothing except Cosmonauts are trained and certified by the Russian Space Agency, and Astronauts are trained and certified by NASA and others.  There you go hey, no love lost….

Secondly, this wardrobe malfunction probably has more serious implications, although not as widely watched or repeated on mainstream media, as Janet Jackson’s nipple gate.  And various others. 

There is immediate suspicion of course, when there is a wardrobe malfunction that ends up exposing some intimate bit in public that it was intentional, you know, for the publicity.

I have had the odd wardrobe malfunction, but I can assure you I was not coerced into the behavior and I don’t believe any publicity did me any favors.

Once I went to the office loo and tucked the bottom of my skirt into my panties.  I wandered around the open plan area for a while with my bum cheek hanging out. 

I was telling a friend about the incident and that I was contemplating killing myself, or at least resigning, and she said that she had gone to the lav and also tucked her skirt hem and the toilet paper she’d been using into her panties. She trailed a long stream of less than pristine loo paper from her panty elastic for some time.

I think she won.

This, unfortunately, has not been the worst incident I, (but mostly those witnessing), have suffered.  Our Mandova was diligently cleaning out the lounge very early in the morning once and glanced out the lounge French doors, across the stretch of the verandah and straight into the bedroom French doors where I was leisurely clothing myself. Sadly, only in the very beginning stages of this dressing process.

We have never spoken of this, but it is not something he can unsee I suspect.  He is no longer as diligent about cleaning so early and if he does, he keeps all the drapes closed and his head down.  I suspect he has also started drinking.  I know I have.

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My Lovely Man – bring on the bees already

Two days ago there was great excitement and my lovely man dragged me out to the bee hive where indeed, there were half a dozen bees buzzing around.

But they went away and so far, have not returned. Clearly not impressed with our hive.  I’m considering putting the price tag on it to assure them of it’s quality.

We need to figure out how to attract them my lovely man stated sadly.

My suggestions of moving the compost heap the hive is near, painting the hive orange (orange is ALWAYS good), maybe thinking about putting in a little jacuzzi, some art work and a comfy bean bag or two have been met with scorn.

This morning my lovely man had found an educational You Tube channel.

Darling he said, the sound is off, please help.

My lovely man is somewhat technically challenged.

I spent 10 minutes trying to unmute it. Checked all the settings, subscribed, generally faffed around.

Eventually I said… Is the volume down?

We probably don’t deserve bees, we are idiots.

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Life in Africa – yes, we have tape, it’s red

We had cause to transact with a government department.

Always a time to gird your loins, particularly in Africa.

The first government department we were channeled to were super pleasant but directed us to another department and building down the road. You need to go to the 13th floor they advised. Of course, it would be the 13th floor.  Didn’t think they even allowed 13th floors in buildings, isn’t it bad luck?  It certainly was for us.

What are the chances there is a working lift my lovely man asked as we navigated our way there.

There was a man here yesterday trying to fix the lifts, the ground floor reception fella told us. But, he continued, the problem seems more complicated than his ability.

My lovely man, at this point, could have sent me up into the ether by myself, as it was my issue, but, he is super supportive and courageously led the way. His two knee replacements no doubt saying ‘hang on a bit.. is this wise?’

As we braced ourselves at the bottom, our senses were assailed with a strong urine smell. So, shallow breaths for 13 floors was required.

I did sympathise as by now my bladder was prompting me for attention.  However, I managed to restrain myself from piddling on the staircase you will be proud to know.

My Samsung watch went into overdrive.  Alerting me to the fact that I was exerting myself. It has never been so excited quite frankly.

We staggered, gasping to the 13th floor reception and she immediately said we needed to see someone on the 12th floor. There was no oxygen available from what we could see.

These people, bless them, do this every day. A couple of times a day I imagine.

We met another unbelievably pleasant lady on the 12th floor, and she laughed at the condition of us. There was little sympathy, she is doing this climb daily 5 months pregnant.  The lifts have not worked for two months. Honestly, for me, that would have been contraceptive enough.

Thank you for coming she said, you are in the right place, but, in fact, you need to write us a letter with your request and bring it back for our consideration.

This is Africa, there is no point in asking – is this information readily available anywhere as to what the process is?

There is also no POSTING a letter.  One must deliver it personally.  Can one leave it at the ground floor reception we asked tentatively… better to bring it up to the 13th floor reception yourselves we were advised.

Of course. 

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My Lovely Man – A Weekend with the Boy

Hot off the press.

I have received an email invitation to be part of a reality TV Show in Mozambique. On one of the islands. We will be one of two young couples apparently. Of course I received this in Portuguese, but it seems to translate into Weekend with the Boy.

Everything will be paid for they say, and there will be entertainment and games. We are only obliged to portray how young couples love each other in Mozambique.

Why are we invited my lovely man immediately queried. We are not young.

Also, he said, what if they require us to stay up after 8pm? I don’t think we can be entertaining after 8pm. Will they let us have our afternoon nap? And watch our soapies?

Well I said, people only have to pay 10 Mets to watch us they say, so I don’t think their expectations will be very high.

Will they want us to drink those fancy cocktails he fretted. We don’t like those. Check ahead how much beer they have.

It doesn’t look high budget I worried, might be more like Survivor. We are not into roughing it.

We’ve considered this long and hard over our morning tea and biscuit, and sadly, we are going to have to regret the invite.

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My Lovely Man – can you hear me?

Quite often my lovely man will comment that this person or that person talks a lot.

With supreme confidence that I don’t (talk too much), I stupidly asked ‘I don’t talk too much do I?’

Yes, sometimes you do, he replied, with no hesitation.

So much for my self-awareness.

Perhaps, I said darkly, you think that because everything I say must be repeated 3 times.

(My lovely man is hard of hearing, or perhaps selective in his hearing).  He also has an attitude about wearing his enormously expensive hearing aids.  Lots of excuses why he doesn’t or can’t wear them.  And if, on the rare occasion he does, he ends up getting into the shower with them.

They are amazingly resilient.  And very clean.

I worked with a guy once that was hard of hearing.  Or selective.

He once said to me…

“The trouble with you Rosie, is your voice is very highly pitched.  You are like a dog whistle, no wonder I can’t hear you”.

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Daily Life – The Slow Movement

Have you heard of Carl Honore? He of “In Praise of Slowness’” fame? https://www.carlhonore.com/

I’m reading his book on my Kindle.  Slowly of course. Very insightful.

He promotes us all slowing down. This surely is a good thing? In Italy, I understand, there are cities that strive to transform themselves to Slow Cities. A meal there, for example can take an age deliberately.  One must not arrive hungry, because they probably only start harvesting your grub when you order.

I personally have very fond memories of spending the whole day at Clube Nautico Restaurant in Beira with friends. Completely inappropriate conversations that lasted the whole day.

The Italians, I further understand, are also known for their very fast driving. This, of course, is somewhat incongruent to the slow movement ambition.

Africa, is not always burdened with an enormous sense of urgency. The nation must have read this book and fully embraced it. Amanhã will do in Mozambique for sure.

When I moved to Mozambique from corporate Johannesburg almost a decade ago, I thought I would go mad. Or have a stroke. Of course, it was me that had to adapt to some extent. Finding a balance between high standards and not giving myself and everyone around me an ulcer.

But perhaps this is an attitude we should all embrace.  So much competitiveness and a need for speed.  Can’t be good. We need to be more Mozambican, or Italian maybe.  Wine and good food. I’m in.

However, there is clearly a fair bit of Italian in a Mozambican. Once they are behind the wheel of a car, it’s a race. Every second counts. One must get there urgently and then relax back into a snail’s pace.

Speed bumps and potholes do not in any way deter most drivers in Africa. These things are to be navigated in top gear. Like pulling off a plaster really. Do it quickly and put the jarring, shuddering pain behind you.

I used to drive hellishly fast. Was proud of my behavior too. Aggressive. I wasn’t going to take any nonsense from anyone. Johannesburg cured me of that. Along with realising I was going to give myself a heart attack, my aggression resulted in a confrontation I had to back down from. Road rage is not clever, and you don’t want to meet someone that is prepared to take it through to the end.

So, by the time I was driving in Mozambique, and indeed Zimbabwe, I was in the right head space.

And it’s always about head space, isn’t it? Everything really.

My lovely man is an excellent driver. He’s a good deal more assertive than me, and more inclined to nip around and push himself into spaces. Despite this, I feel very safe with him.

I suspect; however, he does not feel the same when I drive. And, when we do long distances, I often drive more. He’s got this bum thing going on that when he drives or sits in a car for a long time, he gets a pain in the bum.

He is, in fact, a pain in the bum when I drive. Nervous and critical. And his brake foot pumps excessively and impotently in the passenger seat.

A lot of calling out to Jesus to save him.  And the irritating ‘watch it, watch it’

Just close your eyes and relax I urge him. I can’t he tells me, who will watch you.

At least, he says, we are likely to go together.

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Daily Life – bee less to date

This is a picture of my lovely man’s recently purchased and assembled bee hive.

It is, sadly, but not surprisingly really, without bee so far.

Just as well really because it is Sunday and I am quite keen to sit nearby with my glass of wine and strawberries soon.

This hive doesn’t really look like much considering the relatively substantial cost of it. And, for the moment, it really is just a box.

I googled the matter and this is what I am advised:

Will bees come to an empty beehive?

“Yes, with a bit of time and effort you can lure bees to an empty hive. For example, adding wax frames can act as a “bait” of sorts, while a smaller hive opening is preferable as it’s easier for new bees to protect.”

One immediately wants to know, how MUCH time and WHAT effort? This, at present, is a mystery. Do we have to put signs up? Advertise in the classifieds?

To his credit, the bee man who has exploited us fully, did provide some wax. (Extra of course).

I also observed that indeed the openings for the bees are extremely narrow. Not sure how any fat queen bee could maneuver herself in really. She’s going to have a right bitch if someone persuades her to check it out even.

I will keep you posted.

It is also important to note that the bee hive is now sitting on top of the bat box that was optimistically up in a tree for many months and remained without bat. So, unless the bats are keen to live under the bees at a very low level, we look to remain without bat too.

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Historical – My Lovely Man – Life in Africa

Things have largely calmed down with regards to having to be hosed down and disinfected every time you go anywhere. Thank goodness. We still get disinfected and have to wear a mask into shops here in Zimbabwe and Mozambique. Us cynics suspect that the governments are NOT likely to lift restrictions totally because there is still AID to be begged for and subsequently exploited.

Certainly in many parts of Africa the washing facilities that were insisted on were less than desirable and likely to leave you with more disease than you started with. It was also quite common, it seemed, that they carefully tracked down the village leper to disinfect you.

Anyway, here is a post from March 2020 to remind us.

We trundled back to Beira from Harare yesterday. Spent an unpleasant few hours at the Consulate in Mutare, patiently waiting for them to do a 5 minute job of issuing a work visa, applied for a month ago. Why did it take so long? To flex their power I presume after I stupidly explained we had animals in the car outside and needed to get to Beira that day. The mind boggles. Smiled and kept my 😎. Arrived at the Moz border and was waved down frantically having driven past the Corona Virus check point unwittingly. Stopped and was instructed by the muffled voice through a face mask that we must have our temperature taken and wash our hands in the chlorine treated water. So there you go, Moz will be safe now.

Watched my lovely man dunk his hands in the dirty bucket of water.

Darling, I said, what are you doing ffs?

He said I must wash my hands..

That’s the catchment bucket sweetheart, use the tap above it.

Never mind he says, we’ve complied, let’s go.

Might let him touch me by Christmas.

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Daily Life – it’s tense this blogging

It’s tense this stuff.

I can’t figure out how anyone can like, follow or subscribe.

My brother tells me he is working and will look into it tomorrow. Tomorrow! For pity’s sake.

My lovely man wants me to look at the apparently enormous moon. There’s no time! I last observed him commandeering Mandova to admire the moon with him.

The cat tried to sit on my lap and I had to scream in his face ‘I’m blogging!’

Then my lovely man said ‘You have to come and look darling, its not going to be this big again for a year’

And honestly, who can turn that down?