I’m just here for the electricity
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.
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?
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.
It’s all a big hustle – Life in Africa
Most of the adult population in Southern Africa are not formally employed. To survive, the people hustle.
And it works. Everything is available. Everything is a negotiation. I think, therefore, people from Southern Africa struggle in places that work normally. We are not used to efficiency. It is exhausting here, it is frustrating, but we hustle and when we can’t hustle and there are RULES, we are bewildered.
Also, we get lots of additional services here. Useful.
I was always amused driving down a suburban street in Bryanston, Johannesburg, that advertised haircuts. (Haircuts, styles, wigs, weaves etc are big money in Africa). Quite a common thing to have snatched. No worries about your jewellery or wallet being snatched by a mugger, they are likely to rip your expensive weave off your head. That’s when you have a real bad hair day.
But, I digress…
Along with the sign to advertise that you can get your hair cut on the side of road in Bryanston, the stylist doubled up as a traditional healer and could cast any number of spells to cure you of any ailment or curse your enemies as required.
I’m lucky if I get a cup of coffee at my hairdresser.
People don’t advertise their (informal) wares on websites really. But, they do so with Facebook pages and the like.
So, the FB page starts off with a clear description of what is being sold. Zim Cars for example. But, diversification happens almost immediately.
Here’s a handy service you can take advantage of at the same time you browse for a used vehicle.
•DO YOU DOUBT IF THE CHILD YOU ARE RAISING IS NOT YOURS?
•ARE YOU SUSPECTING IF YOUR WIFE HAD SOME AFFAIRS?
•DO YOU WANT TO KNOW YOUR PATERNAL OR MATERNAL RELATIVES?
•DO YOU WANT TO KNOW THE PERCENTAGE OF YOUR RACE?
•DO YOU WANT TO KNOW IF ITS POSSIBLE TO CONDUCT A DNA TEST WHEN ALLEGED FATHER IS DECEASED?
CONNECTS YOU TO THE TRUTH THROUGH THE APPLICATION OF GENETICS. DO A DNA TEST TODAY AND LIVE WITH THE BEST KNOWLEDGE FOREVER!!!!
Offers a wide range of DNA tests which best suit your condition and YES!!! , we have the SCIENTIFIC SOLUTION TO YOUR SOCIAL PROBLEM.
That’s what we need people, a scientific solution to our social problem. Don’t knock it until you try it.
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.
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.
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.