Day 307 - 309 / 72 - 74

Date: 13 - 15 February 2023
Sleeping location: Al’s flat, Harare (Day 1 and 2); Ubuntu Hostel, Mutare (Day 3), Zimbabwe
Distance (km today/total/total Part 2): 0 / 18928 / 4091
Estimated climb (m today/total/total Part 2): 0 / 164000 / 46000
Legs: Old
Day in three words: Harare social seniors 

In the morning I had a very relaxed pack up and go. Hannah Taku and some others were all doing a tour guide course together, around which I made a proper breakfast of spicy beans and fried eggs with lots of coffee, then put Maggie and my stuff in the garage and walked off to the bus station to go to Harare, where I planned to stay with Al who (with Craig) I had met by the side of the road in Mozambique. The bus actually left within 20 minutes and when not actually full, which was an unexpected bonus but meant I would arrive in the city well before Al and Craig who were driving back from Vic Falls. On the way Debbie offered the use of her townhouse via whatsapp, so in total I had the option of four different places to stay for free* - people here are so helpful. 

After five hours we arrived at Harare’s central bus station, which was right in the middle of town so I started walking around to kill some time and see what the city had to say. Initially it said: “I am kind of a strange place”. There were wide boulevards with some fairly grand mid century buildings that were getting very faded by now. It felt to me sort of like certain cities in Eastern Europe, or perhaps Detroit. Despite this faded glamour it also felt significantly wealthier than any city since maybe Kigali, or even Cairo. I wandered around looking for cafe/bar/restaurant to wait for Al and Craig but found hardly anything despite the place being bustling. The centre is clearly a place for commerce but people do not seem to linger. 

As part of my time killing I also got a haircut and went to a supermarket, which was a confusing mixture of very cheap and quite expensive. Prices were also in ZWD, which was strange as USD is the de facto currency and the exchange rate seems somewhat slippery. The supermarket was called Pick n Pay, which is a very unimaginative description of what you do in a shop. It might as well be called “Select n Transact” or “Purchase Goods Which You Have Chosen”.

Having exhausted the delights of the centre I began walking in the general direction of Al's place through increasingly heavy rain. Further out there were lots of trees and blocks of flats extremely similar to those that now go for half a million in London. This place was wealthy once. Perhaps due to the wetness/drippiness of the rain I didn’t notice Al calling me to offer a lift and ended up walking all of the 3km to his place. In all my time walking around, in the centre and the inner suburbs, I didn't see a single other white person on foot.  

 

Al's flat was a nice 1920s building, with lots of wooden floors and vintage furniture** in a lovely little mews. He had lots of interesting things about the place including a (seemingly) companion chameleon to the wood carving I saw and loved in Blantyre. With Craig also around we cooked, ate and had a few beers together. They are both in their 60s/70s, both widowers, and both really nice guys with interesting life stories. I mentioned how I lost Maggie’s wheels and a bunch of other kit after leaving it in Bukoba in Tanzania, during my panicked return home at the start of covid, and Al had a wonderful companion story. A company which runs overland tours in big trucks was forced to leave a vehicle with a priest at a mission in Bukoba around the same time; the driver came back to Zimbabwe. When going to recover the truck, months later, the driver quickly became aware that a) the priest wasn’t there any more, b) neither were the wheels or a substantial portion of the engine components. An amazing coincidence and further proof that Bukoba is the WORST.

I spent all of the following day hanging out with the older folk of Harare. Al’s good friend and downstairs neighbour Ant came round for breakfast, a huge gentle man with a lovely calming voice who reminded me of Ian McKellen. Al's friend Paul then came over to plan a bike trip with him - they do tours together to raise money for Zimbabwean pensioners, all of which are referred to as “Old Legs” trips. I spent the morning blogging and researching/buying bike parts to send out to South Africa. Before lunch Al took Craig off to the airport for his flight home to Durban; I may well see him again there as he is a nice man and has offered me a place to stay if I’m passing through. Al and I then went out to a very (surprisingly) well appointed bike shop, run by a friendly and knowledgeable guy called Graham. Not only did he have some of the things I needed, he also gave me replacement cleat fixings for free. Flush with this kindness I spent $38 on a pair of totally unneeded, but totally cool, sunglasses. We went to a couple of fancier shops in the suburbs and I realised that white Harare is fancy, and rather expensive even when compared to the UK. 

In the car I had a proper chat with Al and asked a load of questions about his life. It was all very interesting but my favourite nugget was that he travelled for years on a fake British passport as “Hugo Chandler”. When this passport was stolen he went to the British embassy, said “I’m Hugo Chandler and my passport has been stolen” and they gave him a replacement. Much of this was done for love, as he had a Canadian wife and travel with her was much easier on a British passport. They had two kids together but sadly she passed away in the 00s. 

In the evening Al had Ant, plus other friends Mitch and Suzie, round for dinner. I had been trying to arrange something with Hannah and co but it had not run smoothly, in part because I’d accidentally chosen Valentine’s Day and the coupled up people had plans, but quite late notice she suggested a spot for dinner. As I was about to leave Al’s Mitch and Suzie arrived and I was “forced” into a G&T and sat with them for another half an hour. Al had another excellent story about some people taking chickens into the cinema during a vampire film, then releasing them at a scary moment and absolutely terrifying everyone (Al included). I then arrived for dinner with Hannah, plus Emily and new person Ulrika, a bit late and a bit tipsy, but they were friendly and we had some tasty food and a good chat about Zimbabwe and why it is like it is. They dropped me back at Al’s around 10 as they had to go to bed before work in the morning; meanwhile the old folks were still going strong, laughing and joking and swapping stories. If this is old age, sign me up.

In the morning I had another good chat with Al about his life, then he went out and Ant came up and we had our own good chat, then I went out for another wander around the Avenues area of Harare before I headed back to Maggie and the road. There were lots more nice but kind of run down mid century buildings, and a nice but kind of run down park***. At the fairly impressive catholic cathedral I was greeted by a possibly drunk man pointing enthusiastically at a statue of Jesus. When I said "it's Jesus" he exclaimed "it's nice!". Hannah and friends had recommended the national gallery, but at $10 it was too expensive for a quick run around, plus the price vs the $2 for locals felt a bit mean too. During my wandering I stumbled across the Russian embassy, which had absolutely insane security, huge walls and barbed wire and electric fences. Anyone would think they had a problem with unwelcome people entering sovereign territory.**** 

Towards the end of my wander was probably the thing I was most interested in - the Harare Sports Club cricket ground. I had been really keen to see a game in Zim, and their Test team was at that moment playing against the West Indies, but in Bulawayo the absolute bastards. Still, the pavillion (built in 1936) was very nice and I could let my imagination do the rest. I walked in with no fuss and wandered around aimlessly and unopposed; I could probably have got right onto the pitch if I'd wanted. The ground was right next to the presidential palace, which had a lot of guards and is bordered by roads that are completely off limits between 6pm and 6am. Imagine the rush of trying to beat the traffic at 5.59pm…

Back at Al’s we sat down to discuss a few route options for Zim and SA. He was super helpful as always, then gave me a lift to the bus station. I said goodbye to Ant on the way out, but annoyingly forgot to take a picture of either of them. I really enjoyed my time with the Old Legs folks - they are young at heart with many stories to tell. Hopefully I will see them along my way as they are travelling around SA over the next couple of months. 

Al accidentally dropped me right next to a bus to Mutare. To get me onboard I was quoted $6 but once the bus was about to leave this turned to $8, which is actually a fair price but I resented being lied to. In a fit of pique I flicked the pompous liar's flat cap off his head, then when he got annoyed and asked why I was smiling I said ,"because you are funny". He didn’t know how to respond to that. Honestly the extra $2 was worth it for that exchange. The drive back to Mutare took less time than the way out but it felt like longer because my phone data ran out literally as we left Harare. Thankfully I had some distractions, including a rainbow that we appeared to be driving through for several km on the way into Mutare.

I had tricked my phone into sending/receiving a few messages and I knew that Sarah who I’d met in Cape Maclear was at Ubuntu and hungry, so in Mutare I went via the supermarket and picked up ingredients to make a big chicken curry. There were three new people staying there, backpackers Lais, Flavia and Jackie (Brazilian, Dutch, German), and Lais also got involved along with Taku and Hannah. I wasn’t fully satisfied with the result (but also, whose spice cupboard doesn’t contain coriander, turmeric or ginger?) but it seemed to go down well. It was a big friendly group and there was a lovely relaxed fun atmosphere the whole evening, which went on slightly too long once I decided we should “finish off” the brandy that wouldn’t fit in my hip flask. 

*Al’s, Debbies’s, a guy from Warmshowers and some of Hannah’s friends

**Which away from the world of omnipresent IKEA is probably just called “furniture”

***Though the park did provide me with a view of the excellent sign “No washing or catching fish in the ponds”

****Maybe I could have got in if I claimed my visit was a “special operation”.