Cathy Buckle's Weekly Letter From Zimbabwe !

Playing football
Saturday 8th September 2007.

Dear Family and Friends,

This week I write with three short anecdotes from small town Zimbabwe. They are not connected to each other in any way except by example of life in a country which, by all reasonable accounts, is barely functioning. These are all true stories, and putting them down in black and white makes the absurdity, and fragility, of our lives here frighteningly real.

Milk is like gold in our town, as it is almost all over the country. When you appreciate that the shops are empty and there is no food to buy, no protein, no meat or eggs and now not even bread, you understand that people are desperate for nourishment. A phone call to the local bulk dairy marketing outlet this week went as follows:

Q: Hello, Do you have milk please?

A: Nothing.

Q: What about lacto (sour milk)?

A: Nothing.

Q: Any cheese?

A: (Bored) Nothing

Q: Ice Cream! ?

A: (Slightly annoyed) No, we have nothing. We are playing football in the car park!

I happened to be waiting for a friend outside a respectable local restaurant in the town this week. Business inside has come to a virtual standstill. They have no cold drinks, no alcohol, no bread or rolls, no sandwiches or snacks to sell. As I waited a decrepit pick up truck, belching the smoke of paraffin mixed with diesel, shuddered to a noisy halt next to me. A very well dressed man in dark suit and red tie struggled to open the battered door and emerged looking harassed. Many eyes watched, intrigued and eager to see what the strangely shaped bundle in the back was. Covered with a filthy, tattered piece of black plastic, there was a gasp as red tie man pulled off the plastic to reveal an enormous rib cage and section of beef carcass. No refrigeration, no hygenic wrapping, no protection from dirt and dust, just a great, bloodied chunk of nyama (meat!) Red tie man looked at the half dozen spectators, sweat beading his forehead and we all knew that he had probably been through hell to get this meat. Someone jokingly asked red tie man if he was having a braai (barbecue) and someone else asked if they could come! "This is for the restaurant," red tie man volunteered. "It's come straight from the abbatoir you know" he said defensively, in answer to our silent but raised eyebrows.

A geyser in my roof burst this week and when the plumbers got it out the original price was hand written in marker pen on the side of the tank alongside a dated sticker from the shop where it had been purchased. The date stamp was from a local hardware store and was machine printed: "02. 2000" was still legible. The price, written in clear red letters was one thousand, nine hundred and eighty five dollars. The plumbers gave me a quote to repair the geyser by welding the numerous leaking joints, flushing the sludge which had gathered (thanks to our filthy and very intermittent local water supply) and reinstalling the tank. The quote was for twenty six million dollars. To replace the geyser with a new one, the plumbers quote, before labour, was for one hundred and twenty million dollars. In just seven years the price had gone from under two thousand dollars to 120 million dollars - which, in reality is actually 120 billion dollars because 3 zeroes were slashed from our currency a year ago.

And so we stumble into another week wondering what absurdity awaits. A devaluation of 1200% as announced yesterday by the Minister of Finance? A supplementary budget of 37 trillion dollars as produced this week? The leader of the opposition charged for 'disorderly conduct' because he toured empty shops followed by journalists?

Until next week, thanks for reading,
love cathy.