Month: September 2022

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Why did you give up that job?

My lovely man has had an interesting work career. I think he has started many more businesses than he has actually been employed by companies. A real entrepreneur. And he is knowledgeable in many things as a result.

of course the various stories are not only fascinating, but often amusing. Even when they don’t mean to be.

Like the ice business he had at one stage. Which, by all accounts, did very well. But, he closed it in a huff because the government wanted him to pay tax.

It’s just water he argued, frozen water! You can’t tax water, it’s a basic human right. (As should be the ice cubes in your Scotch).

So, in outrage, he closed the business down and did something else. That showed them.

We wish water was free, and that income couldn’t be taxed.

Ask Shakira about adopting that attitude.

Of course, we could all be evangelists. They are tax exempt. Marvelous.

I digress.

By far my lovely man’s favourite job and one he longs to return to, was driving yellow machines and front loaders. At one stage he helped out with loading sand into trucks. Best job ever! I’m not saying he is the one in the picture, but who knows. It didn’t last.

Quite often if we drive past a construction site or men driving TLB’s, forklifts and the like he will whisper…. what I would do for a backhoe.

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Get a move on already

My lovely man doesn’t do queues well. Nicest guy in the world, can get feisty about some things. Traffic and queues really.

My parents are British. I suspect this means I am genetically more pre-disposed to managing queues.

My lovely man’s father was Afrikaans and his mother French Mauritian. Someone’s going to get blixemed with this combination.

I try and determine (on a good day to be honest), if and what control I can take over the situation (throwing money at the problem works in Africa), to improve/speed things up, if the task is absolutely necessary (can I delegate this shit or live without it)….. if nothing can be done and it HAS to get done, best to just relax into it.

A recent example, of course, was the hours/days long queues to pay respect to the Queen. I might not have had the same fortitude, but I was very admiring of those that persevered. And with true Brit Grit, did it with patience and good humour.

There was a bit of unhappiness when it was perceived people were jumping the queue. This, of course, is simply NOT ON. There was that lovely couple that present on ITV (they are very funny). Holly Willoughby and Phillip Schofield I believe. They have been accused of jumping the queue to pay respect to the Queen, and now a whole lot of people are trying to cancel them. You just can’t really get comfortable about how popular you may be, there will always be a crowd wanting to cancel you for some infraction or the other.

We all need to WOKE up people!

The problem in Africa, and why even the most calm amongst us gets riled, is there is no ORDER. There is chaos both in the traffic and in any queue. We are without rules or respect. We live in a constant state of Black Friday madness in Africa. And there doesn’t even have to be anything on sale, it is just a bun fight, ALL THE TIME.

Honestly, we have to up our cannabis intake or something. The continent would be better off stoned.

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Yes, yes, of course there’s room

In Zimbabwe a common request when anyone is looking to purchase a vehicle is for a ‘fuel saver’. The type of vehicle required is unspecified, it must just run on the sniff of an oil rag.

With, of course, the exception of government officials. They require a ‘gas guzzler’.

Zimbabwe is a horrendously expensive place. So, it’s natural that saving costs is a concern.

As a result, the most popular form of public transport taxi is a Honda Fit. A Honda Fit is not a big car, its a 5 seater. Clearly its been tried and tested as reliable and a fuel saver.

It’s necessary, it appears, to tint the windows of your illegal taxi. Presumably to make it more difficult to count how many people are squeezed in. 10 to 12 is pretty average. It’s not clear if the very little boot has the luggage, or more people.

I am particularly delighted when there is a passenger standing on the running board and holding on to the roof, because they just couldn’t quite get one more inside, but a long distance lift was required.

I’m unsure how the insurance works in these scenarios. Or if the guy hanging on gets a discount on the fare.

I will be stopped at a road block because ‘it appears your reflector sticker may start to peel slightly soon’. This as a Honda Fit rolls by with a spanner as a steering wheel and 44 people crammed inside.

I had a Honda once and remember that it was quite expensive to service. Obviously I was doing it wrong. You know, with genuine parts and a registered mechanic.

Your mate next door can do wonders with cable ties, sticky tape and whatever is lying around. Very economical.

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Please Nyami, Nyami let me catch a fish

The Nyami Nyami, otherwise known as the Zambezi River God or Zambezi Snake Spirit, is one of the most important gods of the Tonga people. Nyami Nyami is believed to protect the Tonga people and give them sustenance in difficult times. The River God is usually portrayed as male.

There is a belief, that praise should given to Nyami Nyami to ensure good fishing on the Zambezi. And, of course, on Lake Kariba.

Houseboats abound here. A lot of them simply amazing. Lots and lots of good tales re houseboat adventures obviously. Always around drinking, and fishing of course.

Fishing, it appears to me, is as frustrating a pursuit as golf. And can cause much depression.

I was once told a story of a bunch of South African lads enjoying a houseboat holiday. One of them was having no luck catching fish. All around him his mates were hauling them in.

You need to give praise to Nyami, Nyami he was advised by a local. This was scoffed at. The hours, and then days passed…. no luck.

After everyone had retired one evening, and after, daresay, much beer, he was heard yelling out over the waters…. I’m sorry Nyami, Nyami….. please let me catch good fish.

And then… the next day…. he caught a plenty.

Whatever your beliefs, always good to be grateful hey?

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This relationship is over

My brother actually has hair, and at one stage kept his hair very long.

My sister-in-law met him at this long haired stage, so she’s obviously a keeper.

He now chooses to keep his hair very short and diligently shaves it himself once a week with some fancy clippers he has.

He offered to get my lovely man same fancy clipper, but my lovely man quite enjoys being pampered by the cuties that come around periodically in Beira and Harare to groom us.

Not to be confused with the groomers that come around periodically to clip my Bella and Alfie.

Prior to my brother getting his fancy clippers, and possibly the reason for him getting the fancy clippers…. He was somewhere (his lovely wife in tow), getting a haircut.

The fellow apparently asked him if he would like his ear hair taken care of (yes, he is also at that age). Unwittingly, my brother agreed.

Before he knew it, he had wax inserted into his ear canal and an ear bud sticking out of each ear.

My sister-in-law’s only regret was not having a camera.

At this point, my brother thought this was his biggest problem. Not so, that stuff was then pulled out.

Spontaneous tears.

Would you like me, the fellow asked, to do your nose hairs?

This relationship, my brother replied, ends here.

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Aaaah, Africa…

My brother and sister-in-law are visiting my lovely man and I from the States. We are spending some time together in Zimbabwe.

My brother has not been back to Zimbabwe for 40 years. His lovely wife has never been to Zimbabwe.

Last week we were in Victoria Falls. What a place. Nothing is too much trouble for the people there. The whole town and surroundings are geared to make your experience exceptional. And it was.

And of course, there is the falls, and the river. The Zambezi. Touches your soul the Zambezi.

In case you didn’t know…

“The Zambezi River is the fourth-longest river in Africa, the longest east-flowing river in Africa and the largest flowing into the Indian Ocean from Africa.”

And now we have a few days in Kariba. Another special place. Again….. the Zambezi…. this time with a lake. Hot in Kariba. Even at this time of the year, the start of summer.

When you spend time in places like this, you realise again how very, very hard it is to leave Africa. How much there is to appreciate.

And here I am. With people I not only love, but I really like.

My cup people, runneth over.

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Oops, I didn’t hear you

My lovely man can’t hear when I let off a quietish fart.

This has been a fairly liberating revalation.

There are few advantages to having a hard of hearing lovely man. This has to be the biggest.

I’m not a fan of farting. You know, us ladies just don’t. Or we don’t admit to it. And I really don’t appreciate it when others fart near me.

But the truth is we all break wind. Apparently 10 to 20 times a day.

And then… You know, he feeds me lentils regularly. It’s not easy people.

So, I’ve become a bit too casual about the whole thing.

As it turns out, my sister-in-law is not hard of hearing.

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Yes, my suitcase is ready

My brother and sister in law are visiting from the States for a bit. Aren’t I the luckiest?

So we are away for a few days.

Does your lovely man hover around you as soon as you start packing, requesting if he can close up the suitcase yet?

Now that we are here he is watching me eye the lovely towels, gowns and pillows. Hotels always have great pillows don’t they?

Don’t you dare take anything he warned me, we know these people. They’ll come and find their stuff at our house and then I’ll never be invited to play golf with them again.

What a killjoy.

Also, my little panties I am washing in the shower (as we do, tell me I’m not alone here), are disappearing. Any suggestions on how to broach this at reception?

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Is it a bird…..

We flew recently. Yes, like on a plane.

It was a fairly early morning flight, so I was hoping for a nice fresh bacon and egg roll.

Expectations, they’ll keep you miserable.

We got a snack box.

Immediately my lovely man identified the snack box boxes as being potential rat box boxes. Once you are a pest control officer, it’s amazing how you see a rat box in everything.

Can you fit them in your bag he asked.

I actually have an enormous, very heavy handbag. And this, I have realised, is why.

Can you put this in your bag… Is the soundtrack to my life.

Nevertheless, I once again I realised how wonderfully balanced my lovely man and I are.

He didn’t fancy his energy bar, I took his for the team.

I didn’t want my apple juice, he drank both.

He didn’t fancy the biltong stick packet, I helped him out.

He didn’t think much of the little packet of cheddar biscuits…….

Yes, I too have realised I ate everything the revolting snack box offered. He’s hydrated, I’m a dried out prune.

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What’s that on your face?

I am at the age of greying hair. I am uncertain as to how grey I am, as I regularly colour my hair.

A number of friends have taken the bold step of allowing the grey, and they all look fantastic. I am not yet this courageous. It’s a bit of a process I believe. My hair grows like a weed and I have a lot of it, so I have to colour regularly. Box colour, full disclosure, I am not glam.

The problem with colour is it gets on your face. You have to be quite diligent about wiping it off carefully when you first apply the colour. Or it stains, of course, in places you don’t want to colour.

Today I failed.

It’s easier to get colour off your skin (it’s not built to colour your skin I guess), but I have a fluffy face. I am grateful, as I age, that unlike my lovely man, my ear and nose hair are not aggressively increasing (what’s with that anyway? Why?). But, my already fluffy face is coming out in force.

I’m like a little Alpaca. A chubby one.

Hair, is what hair colour is meant to colour as it turns out.

So, now I have red sideburns. Mutton chops really.

Best displayed in the sunshine.

The bathroom is sunny. My lovely man walked in and said ‘How’s your hair looking….. oh…. can you shave those?’

I’m quite certain that shaving my face will quickly become a slippery slope.

We have coffee in a bit with friends. In a garden setting. It’s a gorgeous sunny day.

My lovely man never has to worry about me betraying him, nobody else would want me.