Category: Life in Africa

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Somebody save me

We went for a walk on the beach in Beira. You have to plan this around low tide in Beira. The beach is, sadly, not the cleanest, and requires the pulling in of all that rubbish by the backwash. (Yes, Gretha would actually just fall down in a weeping mess if she ever visited here). Secondly, the beach slopes, and unless you have two severely different leg lengths, it’s terribly uncomfortable to walk for any distance.

And then, of course, if low tide occurs during the heat of the day, any idea of going for a stroll should be immediately discarded.

We managed to venture out at the relatively reasonable hour of 8am. (We actually should only have gone at 08h30… but my lovely man likes to be early for everything). Being early for anything in Mozambique is actually not a good idea, because you usually find yourself alone in your punctuality.

I digress…

On a Sunday, there are usually Church services (and soccer games), happening on the beach. In amongst the debris from the Saturday night party of course. Alcohol is not allowed on Mozambique beaches, but this law is not ever evident from the broken bottles to be found at any given time.

I digress…

Oh look, my lovely man announced, they are baptizing someone. And indeed, there was much shouting and singing and what appeared to be the public drowning of some poor woman.

Baptism in the Beira sea shallows is not for sissies. However, it appears that the banishing of any demons is guaranteed. Standing on the beach observing, we too felt cleansed of our sins. The woman being blessed was not, it appeared, given much time to catch a breath of air between her repeated dunks. There was a LOT to be said about the matter it was obvious, and all of it to the rhythm of repeatedly pushing her under, pulling her out, pushing her under.

The crowd sang on encouragingly. She must have been thinking ‘Just as well I’m being baptized, because the end is nigh.’ Like now.

It this what water boarding is like I asked my lovely man.

It looked to be over… but actually.. a close friend was just removing her…. to deeper water…

I think we should leave I suggested, before we are asked to be witnesses to a crime scene.

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Possibly still an attitude – a year on

I recently applied for new medical cover. The problem with any medical cover, is that you need to apply for it when you don’t need it. So, I thought I would get that sorted now.

They advised me that a mandatory examination is necessary for anyone over 50. Honestly, I said, I’m really healthy and I’m busy, can we skip this?

Apparently not.

Your medical examination is today my lovely man reminded me as I was dressing.

Oh yes, I said, do you think they’ll put me on a treadmill, best I wear a sports bra. Also, do we have an oxygen cannister. Hopefully he won’t notice my gasps and mark me down.

Also, I pondered, do you think I’ll have to strip to my undies? Best I wear a matching set.

Nothing too skimpy my lovely man warned. You don’t want to risk a flap malfunction or nipple-gate.

Solid advice.

Take a wet wipe, he continued, in case you have to wee in a cup.

I’ll take my She Wee I said, that’ll impress them, I won’t even need the facilities.

We had to climb stairs to the doctors rooms, which I thought was deserving of a free pass.

Oh, the receptionist said, I forgot to phone you, he can only see you later.

That cheered me up.

How’s your blood pressure the doctor asked. Normally it’s low, I advised, but I suspect it will be spot on now that I’ve been waiting for you for 45 minutes.

Congratulations said the doctor, you’ve passed with flying colours. I’m signing off that there is nothing wrong with you. I am, however, making a note that you have a bit of an attitude.

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Gotta be love

I am languishing in Beiradise currently while my lovely man holds the fort in Harare.

Darling, he enquired… Alfie is licking his knob a lot and it looks dry and sore. Any ideas on what could help?

Oh no! I cried. My poor little boy pup.

I had many suggestions… None of which would have been appreciated.

I settled on..

Try coconut oil. You may have to apply it a few times a day.

Good grief he moaned. How much longer before you are back?

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Keep that in your pants here

In Zimbabwe and Mozambique, there are any number of social media sites you can use to ask for help or where to find something.

For whatever reason, Google and Web pages are used far less here. You can find an appropriate group on FB and someone will help you. And then….. Very quickly, they will deliver the goods to you if a deal is struck.

It’s all quite astounding, useful, and often very amusing.

But a query this morning has taken the biscuit.

Unfortunately he has posted anonymously, but no doubt in due course admin will spill the beans and tell at least one friend who it is. That’s keeping a secret isn’t it? One at a time?

Anyway, some bloke from the UK (and we can safely predict it is a bloke, as you will see), claims his side hustle is selling his sperm. (See? He must at least identify as a bloke and produce something he is trading).

Now he is enquiring if he can continue this lucrative career in Zimbabwe.

In Zimbabwe?

He has described himself, as part of his pitch, and is gauging interest before he moves to Zimbabwe. He’s been going at this quite successfully in the UK for a number of years, will be badly missed there, but is clearly prepared to continue sowing his seed to assist Zimbabwe.

The comments….

Some people of very admiring of this side hustle and hadn’t realised its potential. They too are willing and able, so are ‘following’

‘Here in Zimbabwe’ advises another reader, ‘we don’t pay for sperm donation my friend. They just knock you up and run away. We call it mjolo’. She goes on to advise him to look for another job.

Another…. ‘its pretty much given away this side’

Another ‘donating in a cup or in kind…?’

The inevitable…. ‘I’m willing, what maintenance will you pay me?’

Another has offered him 10,000. Zimbabwe dollars

Who knows how this will end? I too am ‘following’ with great interest.

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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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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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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.