The Colour of Life

Some months back people here in Zims witnessed what was dubbed "...the biggest closing down sale in history." Goods mysteriously disappeared from the shelves of virtually all shops and now foraging has become a way of life here. Matches (yes, you didn't misread - I said, "matches") have only found their way back onto the shelves about two months later.(I'm talking August - September 2007)About 10 days ago I went through my drawers and threw out old pairs of socks. I figured that if I throw them out I'd be pressured to buy new ones. Um... I'm still trying to find socks in Harare! Can't seem to find them anywhere. Need to find out if the City Of Harare has collected the trash yet....
Heard a story at a friends house the other day (Saturday, 18th, actually). Her son lived and worked in the UK a while back, as a cook for the army reserves. He worked with this big Aussie chap who, one day, was preparing a large Nile perch (Lates niloticus) for a meal. The Aussie kept telling him that he'd never eat the fish as "all the sick people with AIDS and tropical diseases in Africa have contaminated Lake Victoria so I don't want to get sick as well." Just then his tongs slipped out of his hands into the bin. He picks them up and continues his work without washing them.Hmmmm...? I'm not well versed in medical matters, but I gather that cases of one catching AIDS or (God forbid!) some "tropical disease" from eating Nile Perch from Africa must be extremely rare. In fact, as our story teller put it.."I think it's unheard of."

About 2 months ago, my friend Ray had a rather interesting evening. His suburb, Arcadia, had been without power for over 48 hours. It was about 8pm and Ray was really hacked off. The cold baths, no TV, the take -outs instead of home cooked wholesome food (not that Ray can cook) and not being able to pursue his passion of reading was really getting to him. Poor bugger! In a desperate attempt to get a modicrum of normalcy back into his life Ray decided to sit on his bed trying to read his novel (I'll ask for the title so we can all get ourselves a copy and try this at home) using a tiny candle in an upside down lid (or cap if you may) of a discarded peanut butter container, sitting delicately balanced on his bed. Those of you who have tried to read by candlelight are aware of how tiring this is on the eyes, which are accustomed to more light, so Ray yawns and (understandably) decides to take a short break from his book, places his head on his pillow and.... did I mention that the candle was on the bed????

Somewhere in the middle of the opening credits of his 2nd dream his nostrils pick up this strange smell. He woke up and turns his head to find his sheets being mercilessly engulfed in flames. Needless to say it took him 0.8 secs to leap off the bed to safety, but during this brief flash he had the "presence of mind to ask himself a really pertinent question: "Where the hell did the fire come from?" He quickly attacked the flames with some yet to be identified object and then inspected the damage. The sheets have this new gaping hole and the mattress has a matching hole as well. Ray takes off the mattress and turns it around and then upside down, puts on fresh sheets, gets back into bed and settles down to a well needed rest. minutes later he feels a warm sensation in his feet.... Yes the night is warm, but this is a little too warm for comfort. he gets ups to inspect the mattress only to find a smouldering hot inferno burning the base of his...yes, wooden bed. So, in desparation, he dashes outside in his pyjamas to find as much sand as he can carry, under the watchful eye of the dog with an understandably puzzled look on its face.(Its amazing how difficult it is to find sand in the moonlight, with a burning bed indoors - try it sometime...)

Finally the fire is snuffed out but the bed is not very useful, so Ray packs his bags to sleep by his moms house (where there is power), I suppose for his own safety... Just as he finishes packing, the power comes on!!!

Ever been in a situation where you are so tired of something bad always happening to you that you go a little overboard in trying to deal with the problem? Some 15 years ago I was sharing a house with two friends of mine: Donny & Jones. In the first 6 months there, we were being hounded by constant attempts by burglars to break into our property. Car alarms were going off every other night usually followed by the sound of running footsteps of a panicked intruder preparing to scramble over the wall. On two or three occasions the thugs managed to get away with spot lights of one car and seriously damaged the locks on another. We were really fed up with the sleepless nights and then Donny had this brilliant idea! "Let's wait for them!" He says, excitedly.

"Um… who?" I said.

"The tsotsi's" he said with immense enthusiasm. (Tsotsi is a colloquial expression here in Southern Africa for a thug, a robber or a thief). I was a little uneasy, so I asked him how. His idea was that we go out into the yard and sit in the bushes at about 2am in the morning for at least an hour and a half and, here's the hard part…wait. He organised himself a knobkerrie fashioned from possibly the hardest plastic known to man. And I found myself a thick piece of wood which I converted into my "rod of correction and retribution." I can't imagine what we both aimed to achieve as we didn't know how many thugs would one day show up and whether or not they had a firearm. And the thought of sitting in the dew layered, mosquito and bug infested undergrowth (we had to be hidden!) didn't really have much appeal, at least not at 2am in the morning. But I did it anyway. Naturally Jones refused. Said that we were crazy. Then one night we were "on duty" in the bushes, cold, damp, tired and irritable, when we heard a noise next door. Donny signaled for us to approach the wall and, because only I was tall enough, asked me to take a peep next door as his sweat palms tightened their grip on his plastic …um thingy. I looked over the wall expecting to spot intruders breaking into the house next door. What I did see was my next door neighbour, who we hardly knew, apparently a little drunk, banging the door so his girlfriend could open up. It was about 3:30am and I guessed that he had been to a night club. Open and shut case. It seemed that Donnie had a different idea why this chap was knocking on his door at this time of the morning and what he said next confirmed this: "Is he still there?"

"ER…yah!"

"Still at the door?"

"Well…it is the way in, isn't it?"

Why don't you ask him what he's doing?

"Excuse me? I can't do that!"

"Just do it! Why is he out this time of the night during the week?"

"Why are we out during the week at this ridiculous hour?

Our whispering must have alerted the neighbour because he began to approach the wall and then wanted to know what we were doing outside. Really embarrassing. We never did catch anyone in our nightly vigils and, needless to say, "operation barn-owl" was soon suspended due to lack of sleep.

Okay, hands up those of you who know someone who can coerce petroleum out of a rock? Now don't be shy, we need all the help we can get! One would hope that at election time we are voting the best possible candidate (or rather the best available) into public office. We place our confidence in their wisdom, integrity and competence as the requisites for any public officer. So I must say it came as a suprise when I read in the paper last week that the Zim government had paid some lady, a self proclaimed n'anga or spirit medium, who claimed to be able to induce diesel from a certain rock, by pointing a "sacred stick" in the hills just outside Chinhoyi town. Apparently some liquid was seen coming from the rock and it was diesel. If this turned out to be for real, then she would probably be one up on Moses, who was told to speak to a rock and water gushed out in the wilderness. But it took them a while to realise that she had sent some youths to buy diesel and then, through a series of pipes and tubes, conned the Zimbabwe Government. Payments amounting to ZW$5 Billion as well as a farm, were authorised, by cabinet ministers and the Governor of Mashonaland West. My question is: Was no one suspicious that the "ancestors" had a refinery somewhere underground? Needless to say the woman ended up in court, but a significant portion of the money was never recovered (granted we are talking about US$4100, but it's still a waste). All this could have been avoided if there was a sprinkling of common sense somewhere in their collective minds.