For over two decades I have been telling the story of our lives in a country stuck in a multi-faceted stranglehold.again and again
Zimbabwe is in a new stage of rapid economic meltdown and the currency is crashing again, but my column today is coming from a different angle – and for anyone who has ever lived here, or visited our beautiful Zimbabwe, I hope this one will be good for your soul.
I am an adventurer at heart and would like you to come with me today for a sneak-peek into my latest adventure in Zimbabwe. I started composing this column while sitting on a tree root under a sausage tree (Kigelia Africana) in Gonarezhou National Park but I had to calm down a lot before I could start writing because my hands were shaking, adrenalin was pumping and I desperately needed to go behind a bush.
Hazardous crossing
Adrenalin is a funny thing, isn’t it? They say it stimulates either fight or flight.
For me it almost always stimulates fight and I had just driven my 20-year-old vehicle, which doesn’t have four-wheel drive, across the Fishans River Crossing.
“It’s easy peasy Cathy,” they told me at the office, but words are one thing and tyres in deep sand another.
Fishans is a crossing point over the mighty Runde River. There is no bridge or concrete track. It’s probably about three quarters of a kilometre across the river bed with a rocky section through flowing water, then a long stretch of thick deep sand to get to the other side.
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Five years ago I had mastered the Fishans crossing after a few encounters being stuck in the sand, but conditions had changed – the water was faster and the sand thicker and looser.
Ready, steady … go
When I arrived I let the tyres down and got my speed and gears right, but it was pointless. I got stuck in the thick sand three times on the crossing and my girlfriends and I had to dig us out. I know these sand rivers are the rites of passage here but I knew I had to crack Fishans today so I could conquer the fear that was niggling away at me.
So, with determination and purpose I faced Fishans again, loving and hating her at the same time. Would she let me pass today, or was it going to be hands and knees, sand in my hair, and shovels again?
With trepidation and determination I dropped down the embankment into the river bed. Slow and steady, but not too slow, we got further and further across the sand.
I kept the momentum up, didn’t dare relax my guard and then I dropped into the steep little dip that led into the water.
This part was much worse. You can’t see the bottom, tyres are slipping and rocks moving under the wheels, the sudden nerve-racking tug of current pulling at your back wheels, and at last, up and out.
A few minutes had felt like an hour and I pulled over and got out, hands shaking, laughing, slowly letting the adrenalin dissipate and my heart slow down again.
Magnificently kept wilderness
Going back again without getting stuck restored my dignity but I know to never take this river for granted. Later, I sat under the sausage tree watching three very well-kitted-out 4×4 vehicles with South African number plates crossing Fishans and I felt so proud of Zimbabwe.
Against all odds we manage again and again to face our fear and overcome with little or nothing to prop us up. I felt so proud of Gonarezhou and how it has managed to maintain, preserve and protect this magnificent wilderness through decades of economic turmoil and widespread corruption that has left our country on its knees.
Chorizo, chilli and campfire
That evening back at our campsite, my green tent flapping in the wind, we sat around the campfire. Water for the next day was boiling in a Kelly Kettle, homemade bread was baking in a cast iron pot in the fire and sweet potatoes for supper were wrapped in tin foil and nestled in the embers. We would have them with thin slices of chorizo and a hot tomato and chilli relish.
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While we waited we talked about courage and determination and how these two qualities define so many ordinary people in Zimbabwe, how they have empowered us to survive so many years of collapse and mismanagement here.
We haven’t had money or luxuries, we’ve just learned to go without, to work harder, and to help each other along the way.
After supper with the night sky ablaze, the Milky Way lighting the darkness, and a waning crescent moon slipping into the horizon, we listened for the whooping of hyenas and the grunting of lions, and we talked about the amazing encounter we had the day before.
A vulture restaurant
Sitting in a dead tree in the golden grass there must have been close to 40 vultures. We watched and watched, binoculars scanning everywhere for what we were sure must be a kill, when suddenly a man appeared at the window.
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“Good morning. We are doing anti-poaching here and saw the vultures and have come to investigate,” he said.
Into the dense undergrowth the anti-poaching unit set off looking for what had caused vultures to gather here. Was it lions on a kill, a poacher’s snare line maybe, or the dreaded rhino or elephant carcass?
Whatever it was, watching these men heading into the unknown was looking courage right in the face.
Up close and personal
When I was finishing this column on the last day of our brief adventure, we were again sitting under a big shady tree in another area of Gonarezhou. I was sitting on the open tail gate typing, a beautiful cool breeze blew through the wilderness.
Someone else was looking at photographs and another was drinking coffee and suddenly said: “Ooh, look who’s just popped in,” and there, about 15 metres away was a huge bull elephant.
It walked towards us, this was obviously its rubbing tree, we could see the mud high up on the bark. We left quickly but the memory of that moment will linger on in our hearts as we face the undoubtedly hard times that still lie ahead for our country.
Copyright © Cathy Buckle
