Sorry for the delay folks. But I’ll make you at least one promise, if you keep reading and viewing photos, then I’ll keep posting.
Friday, April 3, 2015
At 5:20am, the water of the hotel shower is lukewarm at best. At 6:00am, the same taxi that brought me to the hotel last night, after meeting with the ambassador, picks me up along with my packed breakfast. I arrive at the home of Dave, the person I stayed with my first night in Zambia. At 7:15am we are on the road: Dave, Lionel, Michelle, and I.
After driving for several hours, we arrive at the border. There is a building for border control and we go inside to handle the paperwork. First we go through the line for Exit Control for Zambia and our passports are stamped. Next we wait in a different line for Entry Control and upon reaching the desk are handed a form. We each fill out the form, then return and wait in the same line again. (The forms were not available anywhere else for us to have filled out before waiting in line the first time.) Once at the desk again, each of us has the paperwork reviewed and then are directed to another counter to pay for a visa.
We wait in the visa payment line, pay for visas, and obtain receipts. My receipt has my name copied from my passport incorrectly. Before the cashier stamped the receipt as paid, with a stamp that includes the date, he adjusts the date to today's date, realizing that all stamps today up until now have been incorrect. I then return to the previous line, which I have already waited in twice, and wait in it again.
As I am waiting and now the second person in line, the Border Control Agent does not have a pen so asks the traveler for theirs. My turn. I hand over the completed form, receipt, and my passport. He hands the documents off to another person but I'm not directed to wait anywhere and now the next person is being helped as I, somewhat awkwardly, stand up by the counter right next to them. After five minutes I'm directed over to the adjacent counter. The agent who is processing my visa has stuck it into their documentation book instead of into my passport. The other agent helps her peel it out so it can be put in the correct place, my passport!
The form I filled out lists how long I will be staying. She asks me how long I will be staying and I tell her the same as what I have entered on the form. She ponders the information as if I don't really know how many days, then says she will put it for 30 days "just in case." She hands me my passport and the visa does have my name correct.
Within the Border Control building there is no directions or proper signage to help you through this whole process, and each of the lines you have to wait in are not even laid out in the building to be in sequence. When I entered Zambia, a single agent processed all that was needed in minutes: I waited in one line, one time.
Throughout this process, we had become separated. I do not spot any of the others inside so go outside to check. There are baboons climbing on the building and I take some photos. No one is at the vehicle so they must still be inside but I figure I will just wait out here. I walk around in the parking lot and there is a baboon walking across. I take some photos as it comes closer, not directly towards me but its path brings him closer before he will then be moving further away. I take some photos as he passes and goes on his way.
After I am done taking photos and have put my phone in my pocket, two guards signal for my attention as they are walking towards me. I wait and as they come closer I say, “hello.” They tell me that photos are prohibited. I say that I didn't know and that there is no sign saying that. I ask, "I can't take pictures of a baboon in the parking lot?" One of them says, "No, you can't take photos at Border Control, not of the buildings, people, or animals. No photos." I ask, "How would someone know that when there are no signs posted?" "You must ask. When you arrive somewhere you must ask what is okay and what is not." "Everywhere I arrive I need to ask what all the rules are for that place?" "Yes. There is a fine for taking the photos. $200." "I will just delete them," and I do. "It's too late, it has already occurred and you must pay." "I'm not paying you anything," I say calmly as I look straight into his face.
These are contracted security guards with no weapons or handcuffs of any kind, and they don't have any authority to impose fines, and I know they just want me to pay a bribe, so I will just entertain their antics. The one I had been talking to now says that he and I are friends and they are just letting me know the rules and they won't make me pay the fine this time. At this point, the other one had walked away from us to another area of the parking lot. The guard I’ve been talking to hasn’t said anything for a while so I say, "I'm going to go and wait for my friends over on that side," and wait to see how he will respond. He said nothing so I walk away, leaving him standing there.
He walks in the same direction as me, some distance behind. I pass the other guard and the one behind me joins him. The one that I pass says that I need to pay Kwacha (currency of Zambia). I say, "I'm not giving you any Kwacha." "Just something," he responds. "No. I'm going to go see how my friends are doing inside," and I walk away.
Besides each person needing to clear border control, the vehicle also needs to be documented with an additional fee charged. This includes several additional lines to wait in, similar to what it took to complete the paperwork and payment to receive a visa. It also includes Interpol. So that process, which Lionel is working through, is what we are waiting on at this point.
Eventually all paperwork is completed and we return to the vehicle, none of us being very excited about the processes just gone through. We now have to exit the Border Control area, pay an additional tax, which is not defined, have the contents of the vehicle inspected, and negotiate a bribe. They want to take our beer but Dave is pretty clear they won't be having it. We are able to leave without giving anything in addition to the final tax. Welcome to Zimbabwe.
This is one of the photos I took at Border Control. And I did delete them, after copying them first! They remained on the phone’s ‘clipboard’ until I pasted them later, effectively saving them. #smartphones
For lunch we stop at a restaurant that is a very common spot for people to stop while they are driving. There was a fire in the restaurant and since then they have built a new roof over everything and created outdoor seating. They’ve done that to keep on keeping on until they are able to rebuild. I had a ‘steak roll,’ which was basically a hamburger but with a piece of steak. There were dozens of condiments for you to choose from and put on yourself, many chilies, mustards, chutneys, sauces, pickled items, and grilled onions. Before leaving from our lunch stop, I purchase some biltong, which is similar to beef jerky.
Our nest stop is in Harare at a grocery store. We purchase some beverages before continuing on. At the cash register I pay in US dollars, not because they are willing to accept it, but because it is the only thing they will accept. Zimbabwe no longer uses its own currency, they use the US dollar for everything, basically as if it was their own. This is because their currency was so unstable and came to have no value. There are bills that have the denomination for millions of Zimbabwean dollars, and they became useless. For change from my US dollars, I did not receive US coins, instead I received both rand and bond coins. They use the coins from other countries while using US bills.
From Harare, we drive another 1.5 hours or so and at 5:00pm we arrive at our destination at a farm that is on the much larger property of Forrester Estates (to be discussed more later). The reason that has brought us here is our friend George. He is originally from Zimbabwe but I met in Zambia in 2008 where he was then living. We are camping here by a lake and the stars are so bright they reflect off the lake.
Map of drive to Zimbabwe:
Saturday, April 4, 2015
George left Zambia in December 2008 to pursue obtaining an ancestral visa to the UK based on his grandfather having held a British passport. He was successful and has lived in London for the last six years. In June 2012, he was at a pub in London when a woman came up to him because she thought she recognized him. It turns out that Carol was also originally from Zimbabwe. They in fact had dated when they were in high school in 1997, at that time each being at neighboring boarding schools. And 15 years later they reconnected in a London pub. In March 2014 they became engaged.
The farm we are staying on is where Carol’s father Dave lives. Dave is one of ten managers that live on Forrester Estates, which is 68,000 acres (27,000 hectares) of farmland for tobacco, cattle, peas, and citrus. Dave is the cattleman. The citrus from the farm ships as far as Hong Kong, Singapore, and Russia. As a tobacco farm, it is the largest privately owned farm in the world. To support all this, there are 19 dams with manmade lakes for irrigation, since it isn’t raining for eight months of the year. And all of this is owned by a German baron.
For all the guests that have travelled so far to be here, they have set up temporary accommodation including showers, toilets, sleeping ‘stables,’ and a kitchen area with a real stove, and refrigerator. There is also a fire pit, not to mention the bar with a full-time bartender. May I have another?
I have to say that George did a genius job on the showers. The water is pumped from the lake to an elevated high tank. From the high tank, the water goes to another lower tank, which is heated by a fire around the clock. The high tank provides the cold water and water pressure for both it and the hot water tank, and both serve the showers. Any time you want a hot shower, it is yours, with a bounty of hot water for all three showers to never run out. It could not be improved on.
After breakfast I head out for a bike ride on a bike that has been borrowed from a neighboring manager. The route ends up being a loop of approximately 10 miles on the dirt farm roads and has incredible scenery.
In the afternoon, there is a speedboat out on the lake pulling an inner tube. I have a go.
For the sunset, we go to the gomo. It means ‘large rock’. We head out from the farm in trucks and 4x4 vehicles, some of them driving all the way to the top. I ride in the back of a truck and near the top, those of us riding in the back decide we would be more comfortable walking, as the truck has to negotiate some very steep terrain. The views are incredible as we are on the highest point in the area for miles and miles.
From the top of the gomo.
We return to the farm and a group has arrived while we have been away. They have driven in two vehicles with trailers from South Africa and have had quite the series of adventures, including being pulled through three-foot deep mud by a very large tractor. And they become known as the ‘South African Contingent.’
In the evening there are a few fireflies fluttering around. I almost think I am seeing things that aren’t there. I’ve never seen fireflies before!
What is cool? Fifty people camping in semi-luxury accommodation on a farm by a lake, you know, ‘glamping.’
Sunday, April 5, 2015
After breakfast, I go back to the gomo with the South African Contingent in their vehicles, with a few of us riding on the top of one.
The afternoon begins with a wagon pulled by 16 oxen, followed behind by the choir from the local church. And on that wagon is a bridal party. Next is a wonderful ceremony. And then George and Carol are married! After the ceremony, they ‘depart’ on the wagon, before returning back to the reception.
Here is some condensed video from after the ceremony:
George and Carol on their wedding day!
The marquee is beautiful, the dinner is beautiful, the speeches are beautiful, and so is the dancing! Dinner consists of nearly everything being from the very land we are on including lamb, chicken, and beef. As the evening goes on, the host bar becomes a no host bar. But then it becomes a host bar again thanks to the son of the German baron. Thank you!
Outside of the marquee there are small, elevated fire pits on stands lighting the area. And the gardens this year were laid out and planted in preparation for the wedding, talk about planning ahead!
There are about 145 family and friends at the wedding with individuals from Zimbabwe, Zambia, South Africa, the United Kingdom, Austria, Switzerland, and one from America.
When George left Zambia in 2008, I drove out of town with him for his very last time of driving that drive. I knew then that I wanted to be here for this day, whenever and wherever it may be. It is actually the date that defined when my trip would start this year, and I fitted in going to Zambia before.
The honeymoon suite is a sailboat anchored in the middle of the lake, the bridge and groom being taken out with a speedboat at the end of the night.
Wedding of George and Carol Photo Gallery
Monday, April 6, 2015
Carol’s brother, Mike, takes a couple of the guests on a tour of the farmland.
First, we go and see tobacco in the different stages of the curing process, which takes seven to eight days. We walk through a tunnel that is at 78% humidity and 88°F (41°C). The air stings our eyes and throat, as the tobacco is off-gassing pneumonia as part of the curing. The final tunnel in the process starts at 140 F (60°C) and then finishes at 154 F (68°C). We don’t walk through that, but the doors were opened and we are in a small tunnel adjacent to the curing tunnel. You could say that I am not wearing appropriate footwear, and the heat stings my already sunburned toes.
Second, we go and take a look (from across the water) of the Gota Dam Residence, where the German baron lives when he is here. It was designed by a firm from London, is built on top of a granite rock (like the gomo), and cost about $7 million to build.
Third, we learn more about the cattle farm. There have been a peak of 6,000 cattle but currently there are 2,000. Many have been sold because of the current drought. The cattle are such a thoroughbred line that sperm from the bulls is sold around the world for $10,000 for a tube (called a ‘straw’). The pedigrees have to be traced back six generations. Of the top bulls in Africa, about 15 of the top 20 are here on this farm. That is based on size, weight, looks, and genetics. The most valuable are worth some shocking figures.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
I go on another bike ride, starting with the same loop, and ending with a detour through the woods and down into a valley. It basically became a mountain bike ride and was a lot of fun. Then I had to pedal back up out of the valley I went down into, making the route about 14 miles.
Zimbabwe Bike Rides Photo Gallery (Includes both rides.)
For dinner we are eating more beef. The story behind the beef is that it is from a steer named Christmas that was an engagement gift to George. We in fact have been eating Christmas the past few days including at the wedding. Merry Christmas!
As guests have been leaving the past two days, the temporary camp has been coming down. The kitchen and dining area has now shifted to the permanent gazebo by the lake. The camping party is down to eight people including George and Carol.
While we are out in the gazebo in the evening, I catch a firefly!
Firefly! Yep, this little guy makes light.
We are now all in normal camping tents, as the ‘sleeping stables’ have started to be taken down. There is rain in the night.
Camping on a Farm Photo Gallery
“You can't stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.” – Winnie-the-Pooh
Honey-loving bear from the Hundred Acre Wood. 1924 – present.