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I was talking to a friend who has applied for something recently and been subjected to some tests.
As she was describing them I said… Oh yes, those are those cognitive tests.
I’m not sure how well I did she said.
Sometimes, I said, I fail those little block tests confirming if you are a robot or not.
Thank you, she said, I feel better.
Quite often, when I slog up the stairs to my little house in the clouds (there are 36 stairs), I get a bit apprehensive and am convinced someone is following me.
So, I whip around, heart in my mouth, to defend myself….
But, its only the sound of my thighs rubbing together I’m hearing.
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.
Spam and telemarketing calls…..
Don’t you hate them?
As I write this I realise I am spam. Still, never mind hey?
I once bought something of Brian Tracy’s. He’s a sale guru, and credit to him, he’s brilliant. But…. My word, he doesn’t give up.. Doesn’t matter how many times I unsubscribe, a bit of time passes and I’m back on that mailing list. I’m not even sure the man is alive even, and he’s still trying to sell me something. Like a phoenix from the ashes…. I feel like I have been in a relationship with Brian Tracy for decades.
And unsolicited telemarketing calls! Hate them. Especially those ones that are just a recording yelling at you. Really? What?
Actually it’s a miracle if I answer my phone. I am not fond of receiving phone calls. There is nothing that can’t be voice messaged or texted people!
If someone has died, kindly text me ‘someone has died, can we schedule a call’ and then I’ll send a meeting request see?
If I do miraculously answer the phone and it’s a telemarketer, I try and be kind. Coz really, it’s got to be one of the most demoralising jobs ever. (And I now get telemarketing calls in three countries). But then I tell them I now live in Kazakhstan, that they are paying roaming costs and I don’t have money to feed myself. I ask if they can please send me money, or at least take me off the call list. They do neither.
I also interrogate them on their success rate. Because honestly, does it work?
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.