The 'Smoking lounge'

There has been much hype in the Zim government press over the coming 2010 world cup, with Ministers and their lackeys drivelling on about the (highly unrealistic) expected influx of tourists. Of course there will be some spill over from the soccer frenzy, but sadly most of it will take the form of tourists flying directly into Victoria Falls or crossing over from Livingstone, for a day or two on their way to better facilities in South Africa, Botswana and Zambia. One would think that the great Maosi Tunya was actually a South African destination as it is very often included in their domestic tour packages. Having visited the tourist town recently it is a sad, faded, shabby remnant of its previous glorious self. Indeed Unesco is currently threatening to downgrade it as a world heritage site.

Zimbabwe was once a tourist mecca, with all ages and budgets flocking to visit our rich and diverse range of destinations, from the Matobo hills to Hwange game reserve, the Victoria Falls to Kariba dam, Nyanga to Gonarezhou. Today over 80% of the luxury lodges, backpacker inns and small establishments have closed. I visited the Hwange Safari Lodge (owned mainly by ZPF) last year and we were the only tourists there rattling around in a vast hotel and being followed by a herd of staff, all bemoaning the state of affairs and longing for the old days when they were run off their feet.

But even when the holiday makers do trickle in, they face a multitude of obstacles that would challenge even the hardiest of their kind. The border posts are a nightmare, in particular Beit Bridge, which ranks amongst the foulest and filthiest of cess pits on the planet, a place where tourists are treated with hostility and suspicion.

Once the tourist vehicle has managed to traverse the bridge across “the great, grey-green, greasy Limpopo”, which could take hours as it only has two lanes, one into and one out of South Africa, and is often clogged with massive trucks bringing in goods to Zimbabwe (but often empty on the outward journey). Fortunately the World Cup is taking place in mid winter so if you are stuck on this recently and inadequately built bridge, you won’t perish in 42degree heat whilst suspended over the river!

The visitor has arrived on Zimbabwean territory. He will first have to beat a path through the thronging mass of touts, offering to clear the way through the bureaucracy for outrageous fees, of course not including the cost of the bribes (that the tout will sort out for you), to pay for an expedited run through the lengthy border process with the open-to-negotiation border officials.

If the wary tourist is savvy and does not fall prey to the tout, then he has to brave the pushing and shoving in the first of many lines; the bridge toll $10, then into the line to pay the extortionate $100 road tax (for the pleasure of using the pockmarked and treacherous roads). To get clearance through customs you have to find a Zimbabwe Revenue Authority (Zimra) official to search your car to ensure you are not evading the payment of any duties. A word of advice, remember to declare your laptop, as if you do not you will be forced to pay a large deposit which in theory will be reimbursed on your outward journey. Zimra are known to base their employment policy on finding the most unpleasant and unhelpful individuals as possible, each one trying to outdo the other in the degree of hostility to travellers. Finally you can start your exploration of Zimbabwe.

But for the traveller who is jetting into the country and expects to depend on domestic flights to get around, BEWARE!

Last week I had the pleasure of flying to Bulawayo from Harare. I arrived at the airport in good time, only to be told the flight was delayed and held up in Vic Falls. When I enquired as to the problem I was dutifully informed by the very polite Air Zimbabwe official, “It is broken”! I waited some hours only to be advised I should return at 6am the next morning. I discovered the previous evening’s flight also had not taken off, as the landing lights at Harare airport were out of commission. So for two nights in a row Air Zimbabwe had to fork out for accommodation for the passengers who had flown into Harare, for the day only, from Bulawayo.

Both flights were put up at the Monomatapa Hotel, which charges a hefty $110 per night, no wonder Scair Zimbabwe is floundering and no wonder the hotel is rubbing its hands in glee. This week I also heard that the plane could not land in Bulawayo as the landing gear was malfunctioning and there is no emergency equipment to land in the second city. Fortunately the landing gear emerged en route to Harare, but once again, another night for passengers at the Monomatapa.

Once again, early in the morning, I made my way to the airport. Please remember that Air Zimbabwe is down to one small plane for domestic and some regional flights as the second is still out of commission from the warthog accident some time ago. So, this overburdened little Chinese-made plane, usually flies Bulawayo – Harare – Bulawayo – Johannesburg or Vic Falls depending on the day – Bulawayo – Harare –Bulawayo. EVERY SINGLE DAY.

My flight still had not arrived from Vic Falls by 6.30am so I decided to hang out in the Air Zimbabwe lounge which runs off the main lounge. There is a sign over the door which reads “Air Zimbabwe Lounge”, not business class lounge, nor VIP lounge, just plain old lounge. So in I went, ensconced myself on the tatty, but comfy, sofa to read the only paper available, the horrible Herald.

After an hour or so the passengers scheduled to leave on the morning flight (who would now have to wait for us evening flight passengers to go to Bulawayo and the plane to then return) started to saunter in. The newcomers into my quiet lounge looked rather officious and I was sussing them out when an Air Zim official asked for my boarding pass and off he went. When he returned he smugly informed me I was not a business class passenger, how could I be I retorted, there is no business class on domestic flights! But rather than fight with this minor official I decided to vacate my seat and returned to the masses, where I belong.

By 10am I was starting to get desperate for a caffeine fix, but the bar in the domestic lounge had no hot water. Finally I begged the barman to go over to the international terminal to get the needed liquid and I was rewarded with the sighs of relief from the passengers who applauded my dogged insistence for service. I glugged the glorious black liquid down, but needed my next fix, a hit of nicotine. I asked the barman where I could smoke and he came out from behind his bar cage, kicked open the grey door next to the men’s loos and welcomed me into what he gleefully informed me was the “Smoking Lounge”. It is a filthy little cage bordering on the runway. I shared the space with the only other smoker, a worker in his green bib.

Finally, at noon, the plane took off to Bulawayo.

How is Zimbabwe going to fare with an increase of tourism? This remains to be seen, but I for one look forward to the day when we once again can rebuild this vibrant industry and welcome back all and sundry to enjoy our rich and diverse land.

Conference Flyer

(Via circulated email) Human Resources (Pvt) Ltd has obtained a commitment from the Minister and the Permanent Secretary to address a follow-up conference on Friday, March 26.

A good line-up of lawyers and experienced business speakers have also been asked to address the conference and will  make a useful contribution too.

If you can make it to the conference and if you can help the government officials gain a better understanding of the requirements of genuinely helpful indigenisation promotion policies, or even if you want to gain a better understanding of the issues involved, this could be a very important event for you to attend.

Details on how to enrol in the flyer available for download at the end of this post. Fees and speaker details provided below.

Speakers:

• Hon. Minister S. Kasukuwere – Min. of Youth Dev., Ind. & Empowerment
• The Permanent Secretary – Min. of Youth Dev., Ind. & Empowerment (Panel)
• Mr T. Musarara – Secretary General, AAG
• Prof. E. Masunungure – Director, MPOI
• Adv. E. Morris – LLB(Hons), (Lond), Barrister
• Mr J. Robertson – Economic Consultant, REIS
• Adv. Jeremy Lewis – Optima Services
• Mr P. Cawood – Independent Consultant
• Dr E. Bloch – Partner, H & E Bloch & Co
• Mr D Harrison – Industrial Psychologist, Human Resources (Pvt) Ltd

This Conference will go ahead, especially if the Act/Regs are repealed/withdrawn, in the interests of national economic development

FEE: $120-00 (includes lunches, refreshments, e-mail or hard copies of all papers, and attendance at all sessions). Enter early to avoid disappointment. Fee may be tax allowable. Group discounts negotiable. Cancellations will not be refunded, but substitutes may be nominated. (Space limited, only one Jacaranda Room)
Bank Details: Stanbic Bank, Park Lane Branch, Acc. No.0222023094401 or cash to
11 Lawson Avenue, cnr Blakiston Street, Milton Park, Harare.

Click here to download a copy of the flyer and enrolment form: in PDF format and in Word format. Click the image above to enlarge and preview.

Please circulate widely.

Gwaai River Hotel as it was in its glory days

Gwaai River Hotel today, after ten years of chaotic 'land reform'

A friend today gave me images of the Gwaai River Hotel taken in recent years, and it hurled me back to my childhood. The hotel is a fixture of my very early youth, inextricably locked into my earliest memories of Zimbabwe. A year or so ago I was with my father when we drove past the turning off to the hotel, and I asked him to take me back so I could see it again: “There’s nothing there anymore; I don’t think you should see it”. My father, who once introduced me to a friend of his as his ‘bush baby’, knows how much I loved the place.

I understood from the pictures I saw today why he didn’t want me to see it. It is gone. Totally destroyed, and all this senseless destruction has taken place in the last ten years in the wake of Zanu PF’s chaotic land reform programme. My memories, however, are not destroyed.

Then...

... and now.

The hotel was a hub of the local community, attracting miners, safari operators, hunters, conservationists, farmers and passing tourists. My memories are those of a child: of the gloriously blue swimming pool, with a paddling pool as warm as wee at one end. A trampoline that was less boing-boing-boing and more ker-booyooing – ker-boyooing – ker-boyooing (if most trampolines aspired to be being a tightly-pulled drum, this one longed for retirement days as a deep feather-bed). It was wonderful though – especially when an adult hopped on: I remember my father bouncing me while I sat at his feet,  so high that he literally sent me flying off the trampoline, fortunately caught by someone standing near-by.

I remember the putt-putt course, crafted out of concrete in impossible humps and tunnels. And the tennis-courts near the trampoline, children shrieking and bouncing while adults – all wearing crisp whites – played tennis. I remember taking a turn at pulling the dining room’s punkah wallah – I was hopelessly bad at it. And in later years when I was bit older, the horses: two in particular, a smallish brown horse and a larger grey that had an attitude and was my nemisis, both very efficient at flicking their ears at Gwaai flies.

People who were ‘grown-ups’ at the time will now fondly talk about the money collection – currencies from everywhere in the world – framed in the bar. And the huge parties, especially at New Year. My memories of those evenings are of hurtling around the gardens at night, in my pyjamas when I should have been in bed, with a whole group of other kids while our parents partied.

In many respects these memories are predictable, but there are always three thoughts that I have which precede these.

The first is of the short drive towards the hotel, the car hot and stuffy from a long journey turning onto a road that dipped down to a narrow concrete bridge with a stomach-pulling lurch as the car rose on the other side and then cocked to the right – the hotel facing us just before we turned.

My second memory (which surprises me given I was so young) is of the birdlife: walking through the narrow gate in the wall into a sanctuary of shady trees around the front of the hotel, and into a prism of dappled light and bird-song.

My third memory is of the proprietors, Harold and Sylvia Broomberg, who ran the hotel for decades, including the horror times of the war and the Gukuruhundi. It is only after my adult mind has arrived and been welcomed by them that I turn to the ’sweetie’ memories of childish fun listed above.

As I’ve grown up I’ve developed a deep reluctance to look back to those times. For a start, much of the content on the web where people celebrate ‘looking back’ is dominated by ex-Rhodesian die-hards,  their memories offered to the world in the context of ‘…see… things were better then than they are now‘. This mind-set denies the reality of the experiences of the majority at the time, and in sharing my memories, I in no way want anyone to think I endorse the historical and social context they exist within. However, nor do I want to qualify the sheer joy and innocence of childhood memories with political caveats.

I know full well that had I experienced those days from the perspective of the person I have grown up to become today, I would look at pre-Independence experiences with a very different set of eyes. As a child though, I was unaware of the context I grew up in: I didn’t know until I was much older, for example, that behind his back some people referred to my father as a ‘communist’, because his views of the current context angered many around him (the word used less to accurately describe his political views, and hurled more as an expletive at a man who believed the Smith government trying to maintain the status-quo was profoundly wrong).

I think one of the most overwhelming reasons to not want to look back though is the nostalgic pain it invokes. I looked at the photos my friend gave me with deep sadness, and then found myself gripped by a desire to see pictures of what it looked like when I was child. In my search to do so I found this Facebook group, and it was when I saw pictures of Harold and Sylvia that I started crying as I recognised the deeply familiar faces of two people that I have such fond memories of.

Harold and Sylvia Broomberg

Only then did it dawn on me that the beauty and warmth of the place and my most treasured memories had everything to do with these two people.

I remember both of them exuding an incredible gentleness, softly spoken and extremely kind. They knew me by name even though I must have been one of hundreds of children passing through their hotel, whining before we reached the front door that I didn’t want to use the loo first, I wanted to go straight to the trampoline! I know that my parents were probably aware that they were arriving at an establishment owned and run as a formal business by a couple, but as a child I had no appreciation of formalities: for me, visiting the Gwaai River Hotel was like arriving at a relative’s home and settling in as quickly as possible, and moaning like hell when I had to leave. Harold and Sylvia made it feel that way.

In the discussion section of the Facebook group, Harold and Sylvia’s daughter writes in 2008:

Harold has a prayer that has been in his heart almost all his life. It goes like this:

All through this day
let me touch as many
lives as possible,
and every life I touch
do You, dear Lord, quicken,
whether through the words I say,
the things I do
or the life I live.
So be it.

Harold carried this prayer in his heart, but he showed it in his actions and speech too.

When I first saw the photos my friend gave me today, I felt deeply depressed and I said “I’m never going to go back there. My dad was right, I’ll bawl”.

Her response was one word: “Rebuild”.

There is something very forward-thinking and positive about that: just because it’s over doesn’t mean it’s OVER. And as I realised towards the end of my self-indulgent trip down memory-lane, the real gift wasn’t the stuff – the fan, the trampoline, the putt-putt course etc. What made it so special to so many – even if they don’t properly realise it yet – was that it was run with love and deep affection for the people who visited the place. Harold’s prayer says it all: if only his prayer was the philosophy in the hearts of everyone and all the political parties involved our country, we would be rich and happy beyond our wildest dreams.

Harold died last year, peacefully in his sleep. I can only imagine how Sylvia and their family may feel when they see these images: but I hope they take away from this a perception that the most important part of Gwaai River Hotel, the heart and soul of the place, can never be destroyed by the hate and ugly destructiveness of Mugabe and his thugs. And that’s the postive attitude and warm spirit embodied by Harold and his wife:  a special thing to keep in mind and hand down to generations to come as we all move forwards to rebuild, repair and nurture our beloved country.

If we treasure this spirit instead, and stop weeping about what once was, then what a gift they’ve given us.

(Via Veritas) The Portfolio Committee on Budget, Finance, Economic Planning and Investment Promotion will be holding public hearings on the Indigenisation and Economic Empowerment (General) Regulations [SI 21/2010] in Bulawayo and Harare. Venues and times are as follows:

Bulawayo

Friday 12th March, Small City Hall, 9 am

Harare

Monday 15th March, Harare International Conference Centre, 10 am

The Portfolio Committee Chairperson is Hon Zhanda, the Committee Clerk is Mr Ratsakatika.

Public Welcome to Attend Hearings

Interested stakeholders and members of public are invited to attend these hearings at which they will be given the opportunity to give evidence and make representations on the regulations. If you are making a written submission, it is advisable to take as many copies as possible for circulation at the meeting. If you are able to take a copy to Parliament before the meeting and give it to the Committee Clerk [see above] and he will duplicate copies for the members of the Committee.

If you want to make an oral submission, signify this to the Committee Clerk so that he can notify the chairperson to call on you. An oral submission is more effective if it is followed up in writing.

Written submissions

If you are unable to attend a hearing, written submissions and correspondence may be addressed to:

The Clerk of Parliament

Attention: Portfolio Committee on Budget, Finance, Economic Planning and Investment Promotion

P.O. Box CY298

Causeway, Harare