Miserable in the 'Mother City'

It's wet, miserable and cold in Cape Town, a prelude to what soccer fans can expect when they arrive for the World Cup next month. I note that in all the marketing hype for the FIFA competition, no-one has actually mentioned the weather. ('Probably best not to...everyone agreed?') June is Cape Town's winter and it gets very cold and rains alot if you didn't know. Forget the golden beaches, shark cage diving and all those alluring brochures full of scantily clad Western Cape babes. That's Summer and another six months away.

The weather is doing little to shift my mood which took a swallow dive yesterday. Since I got here, I've felt like a fish out of water. It's that din again. The endless white noise of city life. The noise of commuter traffic building up first thing in the morning, (Give me Caprivi birdsong any day!) and the dense hum which follows all day long and into the night. Then there’s the conversation. People talking about stuff and things, I can fortunately no longer relate to. Yesterday, I overheard three business people discussing the logo branding of a well known mineral fizzy drink for over half an hour which such intensity and conviction, you felt their lives depended on it. They probably believe in the tooth-rotting product as well. How sad is that?

I've spent the last two days helping to build a bar for the World Cup. A friend offered me the job and I accepted feeling the need to do something other than stare at a computer screen, as well as earn some cash. It's on the edge of the 'fan park', a large penned enclosure in the city bowl, which when completed will offer thousands of football supporters without tickets, the opportunity to watch the games televised live on large screens.

The idea of this corral, is one of containment with a dual purpose. It means official sponsors of the World Cup (not going to mention their names because I find the whole thing vile and cynically exploitive) can sell their heavily branded products to a literally ‘captive’ audience without fear of competition while providing a ‘safe’ venue for football tourists, concentrating their revelry and beer vomit in one place.

I took a wander around the fence that surrounds the ‘fan park’ yesterday. It’s stunningly situated against a backdrop of Table Mountain and the formidable Isiko Natural History and Art museum. What struck me was the number of poor, hopelessly unemployed men sitting around it, in various stages of what can be only be described as despair. (Quite a few middle-aged whites too whom you tend to notice). No doubt come the glorious day and they will be shunted out of sight. After all, we wouldn’t want anything to upset the sponsors...

Back in Cape Town

Flew back to South Africa on Thursday from Kasane in Botswana to Cape Town via Johannesburg. Travelled on budget airlines which is a relatively new and welcome development in this part of the world. South Africa now has three low cost airlines, Kulula, One Time and Mango which for some reason, all sound like fruit drinks.

Uneventful trip until I was pulled in by immigration officials at Joburg because of an unpaid 'overstay' fine of R1000 (£90). I had actually paid it in Cape Town a few months earlier but because I had no receipt, and it was still registered on their computer as outstanding, they insisted I pay or be refused entry. I did ask them to ring Cape Town airport immigration to check with their colleagues' computer but they refused, leaving me no alternative to cough up again or spend the rest of my life in the arrivals section.

The second upset of the trip was receiving a call from a friend who was supposed to be picking me up at Cape Town airport, to say he couldn't make it because his pregnant wife had just gone into labour. This news required me to ring around a number of friends, to try find someone to pick me up as well as somewhere to stay. Fortunately, I did manage to find someone. I've been living in his office ever since. Poor John.

The one piece of good news was receiving word that my application for residency in South Africa had been approved. This means I can now live and work in the country for three years. This news brings to an end, a long period of uncertainty about the future. Now all I have to do is try and generate some work to allow me to live here.

It's only been five days but missing Elle already. Her birthday today too.

Making a plan

'If its not one thing, it's another'...is becoming quite a catchphrase around here. Yesterday, Elle's Toyota Hilux bakkie broke down about 70km from Katima. Unable to fix the problem, we had to ring for a vehicle recovery truck to tow us into town. Initially, the problem was put down to a blown fuse. But nothing is ever simple it seems, and hopes of speedy repair were dashed when the mechanic identified a further problem with the alternator. Unfortunately, the required replacement part is in Botswana, and can't be got until Monday, leaving us without a car for a weekend and a hefty repair bill to look forward to.

This latest development has thwarted our plans to drive the 1300km to Windhoek next week, where I intended to catch a plane to Cape Town. (Fortunately, I hadn’t booked a ticket yet!). As they say in Africa, I will now have ‘to make a plan’.

This expression, a common phrase among old Africa hands, seems like a contradiction on a continent where relatively little goes according to plan. But here it means something entirely different. ‘Making a plan’ is entirely reactive to the unforeseen, and means finding a solution to a problem or a situation when there usually isn‘t an obvious one. Having to ‘make a plan’ is a test of one’s resilience and resourcefulness and can range from making a fan belt out of a sock to sourcing a crate beers late at night. The latter born out of necessity.

Just seen a small crocodile in the garden. About two foot long he shot past me and into the water at breakneck speed. Just hope Mum isn’t around...

Hyaena Cubs

Elle returned from the park today with news and pictures of hyaena cubs. The little critters, which look like a cross between a rodent and a pig (in my view) were captured on the remote camera playing outside their den. This is quite a breakthrough for her and she is very excited at this new development.

She also brought home a dead baby Vervet monkey which she found. It was promptly added to her hyaena 'stinky brew' - a barrel of coagulated cow's blood, currently fermenting in the garden which she uses for bait.

Power has now been fully restored to Sijwa thanks to the purchase of a new electrical inverter. The solar electrical system is charging once again and delivering enough current to comfortably power two laptops during the day. The internet is also working well for a change.

Elephants in the garden

We had elephants in the garden last night. A concept, never mind a reality, I'm still trying to get my head around. They announced their presence about 9pm, with a deep, throaty, rumbling sound (Think Tyrannosaurus Rex in Jurassic Park) outside the bedroom window and then proceeded to slosh around in a small pond at the bottom of the garden. We couldn’t actually see them through the window and going outside to take a closer look was definitely out of the question. But they were definitely there, as evidenced by the flattened grass and elephant poo which we found this morning.

Elephants and hippos are a big problem for local subsistence farmers and villagers here and not a night goes by when you can’t hear, humans shouting and banging metal in the distance, in their vain attempts to scare these monsters away from their vegetable patches and crop fields. (I can’t imagine farmers at home trying to deal with this sort of problem!)

Making lots of noise, seems like a largely ineffective way of countering large animals with notoriously thick skins, not to mention risky. Another method, which has proved quite successful, is the use of hot chillies, which some farmers deploy round their fields. They not only keep elephants at bay but grow well here in the generally poor soil producing a valuable cash crop. A definite win win situation of which their relatively few examples when it comes to human wildlife conflict.

Have to go Home Affairs tomorrow in Katima to extend my visa for ten days. Given a choice, I would rather pull out my toenails with a pair of pliers which I reckon it would be marginally less painful.

Problems take their toll

It's been a tough week. The electrical solar system which powers Sijwa seems to have been damaged in the generator fire. (Although we now have good reason to believe that the fire was caused by a short in the electrical system!) Attempts to fix it have so far failed and we have been without electricity for a week now which presents a whole host of other problems. (My laptop is presently being powered by a car battery!)

Getting an electrician in the middle of the African bush is no mean feat, although we did manage to get a young apprentice to look at it yesterday. Unfortunately, he was unable to help because is knowledge of solar-powered electrical systems was limited. The wiring of the system, which was done by the German missionary who lived here previously, is also archaic and confusingly colour coded.

We've also had a robbery to boot. Someone it seems stole a pair of my trousers and Elle's handbag and contents from our bedroom. (Fortunately, she keeps her purse elsewhere!) Thieving by the locals is common here and something unfortunately one has to live with. We suspected Evans for awhile but have no proof. We know he pilfers food but we turn a blind eye to that. He's not poor either, telling me he has a thousand pounds saved in his bank account.

Until Elle moved in, Evans had a 'maintenance' budget for Sijwa, which by his own admission, he used to supplement his salary with. Since he lost that, he now feels somewhat aggrieved and feels that Elle should make up the shortfall in cash. (Remember this is money which he embezzled from the budget. Work out the logic there...)

All these events, although they might seem minor to some, take their toll mentally. Both Elle and I feel tired and worn out, just trying to manage all the variables here and put in a day's work. I've been trying to write newspaper articles but am endlessly frustrated by intermittent internet, bad phone service and constantly having to recharge my laptop battery which is last about 20 minutes now. On top of that both our laptop adaptors/transformers blew last week with the short on the electrical system and had to be replaced.

Elle has gone into the national park today to set up a remote camera at a hyaena den which she has located with the help of her radio tracking collars and Google Earth. She's hoping to find and photograph hyaena cubs. She's walking in on foot with a colleague from WWF which is risky. (While I get to stay at home and mind the dog!) We know there is a pride of lions in the area and a large herd of elephants - her worst fear - have also been reported.

Fire!

Major drama this morning when the petrol generator burst unto flames. Fearing it would blow up, both Elle and I immediately fled from the house. After regaining my senses (or perhaps losing them) I went back only to find huge flames leaping from the shed where the generator is housed. (To make matters worse, the shed also contained a full jerry can of petrol which we only bought this morning!)

Terrified that the fire would spread to the trees above and the thatched roof of the house just yards away, I had no option but to try and put the fire out. In the absence of a fire extinguisher, this involved gathering buckets of sand from the yard, entering the shed and throwing them onto the burning generator. Mindful, that it might blow up at any moment, this was carried out with some urgency. Fortunately, the Gods were on my side and I managed to eventually smother the fire, saving us from what would have been a major disaster.

Needless to say, the generator is no more, reduced to a molten mass of plastic and scorched metal. It's the afternoon now and Elle is still quite shaken by the experience. I'm just glad it happened when I was here and I was able to put it out before it spread to the house.

Don't know what the cause of the fire was but hopefully will have a full enquiry when Robin the fireman gets back later today. Will also ask him why there is no fire extinguisher in the house...

Animal Encounters

Robin, the fire management man has gone away for a few days to burn some bush, leaving Elle and I alone to enjoy the seclusion and privacy of Sijwa. (Robin will be leaving permanently in about two weeks, and heading back to Mozambique where he is now based).

Went to switch on the generator last night and startled something big in the small storeroom beside it. Couldn't see what it was because it was dark and I didn't have a torch. But as I backed away, I heard what sounded like a sudden burst of air from a tyre which Elle now assures me was a snake, probably a Puff Adder. (Talking tractor tyre here and not bicycle tube by the way!)

Elle has had more than a few snake encounters over the years but fortunately has never been bitten. Just over a year ago, she discovered an Egyptian cobra under the groundsheet of her tent by inadvertently standing on it. Fortunately, she was able to phone Evans at the time, who came round and killed it. (see picture: and this is a small one...).

Apparently, a large bull elephant swam across the river the other night about fifty yards from the house. I was fast asleep but Elle heard it crossing. (She can distinguish between an elephant and hippo breaching water apparently). Evans confirmed it the next morning after his whole village was roused and tried to chase it way.

Evans and the Cobra

Writing this from the viewing platform which stands in the river in front of the house. Erected on 30ft long poles sunk into the river bed, it looks like a POW camp watch tower. The view (see left) from it across the Kwando flood plain is spectacular, especially at sunset. Out there in this vast field of long reeds and tall grass, are hippos, crocs and more wetland bird species, than you could shake a twitcher's stick at.

Went to Katima yesterday for supplies. The heat and the hordes doing their shopping after the Easter holidays was enough for me. Caprivians, generally walk in a slothful manner. If you are already irritated, the sound of hundreds of people, slowly shuffling round a supermarket while simultaneously blocking the aisles, can push you to the limit.

Elle's feet are still in a bad way, despite liberal daily applications of Cortisone cream. The itchiness torments her at night and nothing less than long scratching episodes, provides any relief. The good news is, we think we have identified the culprit. Larval mites or ‘chiggers’ which inhabit the long wet grass through which she walks in the mornings. The insects, which are too small to see, latch onto the skin, injecting an enzyme (which causes the itchiness) which breaks down the skin cells, which nourish the larvae apparently.

Bit of a drama this afternoon when Evans who was working in the garden, started shouting for Elle. It seems the poor guy had a close encounter in the vegetable patch with a very large Egyptian snouted Cobra, last seen entering the garden shed. Evans was clearly quite excited by this and wanted help to chase it out. I was bit miffed that Evans thought that Elle was better equipped for this task than me. In the end, we couldn't find it, which was probably a blessing. A large pissed off, poisonous snake is not something you really want to deal with.

'The horror...the horror'.

SIJWA (pronounced Sidge' wa) sits on the Kwando River which runs all the way from Angola into the Caprivi. The main channel of the river flows literally in front of the house and is about 30 metres wide with reed wetlands either side. When it floods for several months of the year (starting in June), Sijwa becomes an island, and is only accessible by boat. (Unless you feel like taking your chances with the crocs and wading across which I did last year just for the hell of it.)

These wetlands are unique to Namibia with over 400 species of bird. Plovers, herons, hornbills, warblers, bee-eaters, jacanas, crakes etc are all common species here. I had never paid much attention to birds until now but when you live in a giant aviary, its hard not to.

What I find interesting is some of their behavioural traits. Take the male Weaver bird, who makes a little hanging basket nest for his female partner. Apparently, if they not up to scratch, she refuses to move in and lay eggs, meaning he has to build another one. Proving that women can be difficult no matter what the species.

Being next to the river and in the heart of the wetlands, while undoubtedly beautiful, has of course its downside. Mosquitoes are plentiful here, particularly at this time of year (coming towards the end of the rainy season). I'm covered in bites and just hoping that none manifest into malaria. Fortunately, we are in a low density populated area which means less likelihood of catching it, because the Anopheles mosquito transports the parasite from human to human.

Elle is currently reading Joseph Conrad's classic 'Heart Of Darkness' set in the Congo. Those not familiar with the book, will no doubt have seen the film 'Apocalypse Now' which was based on the story. I mention this because Sijwa, reminds me a lot of mad Colonel Kurtz’s remote jungle outpost...

Thank Heavens for Evans...

It has rained all day today. I'm sitting at a table watching the rain drip from the thatch roof. The 'Jenny' (short for generator) is pleasantly purring in the background powering my laptop and the energy-saving light above me. Can't tell you what a pleasure it is, not to be in a tent on a day like this.

Been at Sijwa almost a week now. Taking awhile to learn how to power the place, as it alternates between solar power and a generator. A day's sun is enough to run the lights and the fridge but on a dull day like today, the 'Jenny' is on almost constantly.

Robin, an Australian who works in fire management arrived back a couple of days ago from Mozambique. He's on contract to IRDNC (Integrated Rural Development and Nature Conservation) the NGO who own Sijwa and will spend next the couple of weeks living here while he supervises a bush burning programme. Up until last year, he lived permanently at Sijwa, while he trained locals in fire management. He now has his own company called 321 Fire! and has become a fire consultant to a number of NGOs which seems to be quite lucrative work.

Elle, has much to celebrate this week, having succeeded in attracting a number of sponsors to her project, including a Dutch zoo. She is now very happily 'moved in' to Sijwa, having quite quickly overcome her reservations about living in a 'house', and her aversion to modern appliances.

The house comes with a young caretaker called Evans, who is quite a handyman. He's also self-appointed pest controller and is at his happiest when destroying termites, ants and various other creepy-crawlies which threaten the fragile human eco-system here. Today, he has been busy setting traps for a huge rat, I encountered in the kitchen the other night, which I was surprised to find given that he's probably at the very bottom of the food chain round here.

Evans I'm relieved to hear, is pretty good at dealing with snakes too which is reassuring. According to Robin, who lived at Sijwa for four years, the grounds are full of black mambas, which are Africa's most deadly snake. 'Thank Heavens for Evans' is turning into a bit of catchphrase round here.

Sijwa

Yesterday, Elle and I moved out of the tent and into a house. Three days of incessant rain, mud and damp clothing was enough to finally wash away any further illusions or sentiment about continuing to live under canvas.

We have moved to a beautiful place called Sijwa, which is a thatched lodge-type structure on the Kwando River. Built by a German missionary called Helmut, in the late 90's, it has a big kitchen, three bedrooms and bathroom. It has running water (both hot and cold!), solar powered electricity and a generator. It also has a viewing platform over the river and a croc pool to bathe in. (This is a wire cage actually in the river which keeps crocs out).

The house, which now belongs to a conservation NGO is empty for the most part of the year and the trustees, who offered it to Elle, are more than happy to have someone living in it and maintaining it, rather than it standing empty.

Last night, we had a proper meal cooked on a gas cooker washed down with a bottle of cold wine from a fridge. We then slept soundly in a dry bed with clean sheets while a thunder storm of biblical proportions raged outside. Amazing the things you appreciate when you've been deprived of them.

Can't help feeling this is the beginning of a new chapter.

Back in the Bush

Arrived back in the Caprivi four days ago. Have had no internet service until today, hence no blog.

My journey here from Victoria Falls last Thursday went like clockwork. Crossed the border into Zambia, took a taxi to Livingstone and caught the bus to Sesheke which is a short walk from the Namibian border post. There to greet me was Elle, looking as stunningly gorgeous as ever, proving that absence not only makes the heart go stronger but improves your eyesight too. Mr B, her dog, also pleased to see me.

Elle's camp a bit rundown since I was last here, through no fault of her own. The tent is propped up by makeshift tree poles after the aluminium crossbars bent under the weight of rain water which gathered on her tent roof during her four month absence. Alot of her stuff, mostly tools which she depends upon, have also gone missing, presumably stolen.

Elle covered in bites from mosquitos who are very active this time of the year. Not helped by the fact that she allergic to stings. Her feet are in patricularly bad state. Covered in welts and purple scar tissue from mosquito and other insect bites. She got stung on the back by a wasp yesterday and is still very swollen today.

Found nasty scorpion in the tent last night which I removed using a glass and a piece of paper, slipped underneath. (Up until now, I've only done spiders in the bath).

Elle has been offered a house on an island nearby to live in. It has electricity, running water and lots of other mod cons, including a proper kitchen replete with stove, fridge, freezer etc. This has posed a bit of a dilemma for her. Despite the everyday hardships, she enjoys the solititude, privacy and location of her tent which she knows she will forfeit if she moves.

Woke up to birdsong this morning and Elle fast asleep in my arms. Watched the dawn break through the tent shade cloth window. I understand exactly what she means.

Today Namibia celebrates Independence Day, which this year marks the 20th anniversary since liberation from white South African rule.

Check out the following link:
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Happy St Patrick's Day and mind the elephants as you go...

It has been a very long day today. Arrived in Victoria Falls at midday after a marathon fifteen hour train journey from Bulawayo. Was supposed to be an eleven hour journey but then a lot of things are supposed to be in Africa and never quite are. (Still trying to work out how it managed to be four hours late when it was traveling in a straight line with no other oncoming trains?)

On top of that, it had to rate as one of the worst journeys I've ever done. My compartment which I was confined to for the whole journey, was filthy and stank of urine and stale sweat. If you can imagine being locked inside a cubicle of a public toilet overnight with an endless procession of people banging on the door, it should give you a fair idea. I wouldn't have minded but I was traveling in first class!

The warning signs were there. The Zimbabwe Railways woman employee who sold me the ticket warned me 'to lock myself in' the compartment because of the thieves and the friend who said with composed resignation, 'so you have decided to take the train then'.

This was a great disappointment to me. Zimbabwe used to have the most amazing trains, consisting of old British train carriages replete with teak interiors, leather seats and brass fittings. To ride one, which I did back in 1993, was to be transported back in time and experience something of the elegance of early train travel. Sadly, like many things in this country, they are no longer. (My compartment was a shrine to Formica).

Victoria Falls is Zimbabwe's top tourist destination and 99 per cent of its business is geared towards it. These days, tourists are most noticeable by their absence. This makes a short walk around the town unbearable as hawkers swarm around you like flies, trying to sell everything from wooden carved elephants to now defunct, inflationary Zimbabwean dollar notes. This gets extremely irritating after awhile and really tries your patience. Have to keep reminding myself they just trying to make a living to stop myself from punching one of them.

Being St Patrick's Day, I went out for a couple of beers tonight. Just before I leaving, I asked the barman was it safe to walk the streets of Victoria Falls at night. Looking at the clock which had just gone eight he said: 'It is fine. Very safe. Nobody on the streets at night.' Reassured I eased off the bar stool and made for the door. 'Just be careful of the elephants', he added. I laughed and waved goodbye. 'No, seriously,' he shouted after me, 'they walk around the streets at night. You need to watch out for them.' (And they do apparently).

The 'Pothole Index'

I used to think potholing was exploring underground caves until I came to Bulawayo. Here its the art of manoevring your vehicle round large holes in the road in between running sets of traffic lights which don't work.

The size of the potholes in African countries is usually a good barometer of where's it at. A kind of 'Pothole Index' if you like. if you want to know about a country's rate of inflation, level of corruption or economic growth, just take look at the state of the roads.

South Africa and Botswana, both success stories, don't have potholes. The Democratic Republic of Congo has road craters which can swallow a truck. The Central Africa Republic is pothole free and that's only because it doesn't have any roads. There is a joke in Zambia, that if you see two eyes reflected in your headlights at night slow down. Chances are its a giraffe stuck in a pothole

Bulawayo used to have great roads. Famed for some of the widest on the continent, you could at one time, easily have landed the Space Shuttle on Selbourne Avenue, a massive runway of a road stretching straight for some 5km into the city. It still has the most elegant of streets bisecting what's left of its crumbling colonial architecture. Unfortunately, the state of the road surfaces today make driving into town like a 'Top Gear' challenge.

I'll leave you with this one. Question: How do you tell a drunk driving home in Bulawayo? Answer: He's the one driving in a straight line.

Once Upon A Time...

Paid a visit to 'Books of Zimbabwe', which sells books of antiquity. Was trying to find a book I bought and read years ago called 'Three years with Lobengula' written in 1894. It's the story of Irishman John Cooper-Chadwick from Limerick, a failed gold prospector who ended up spending three years at the court of Lobengula, the great Ndebele chief who once ruled Matabeleland, and whose kraal once stood on what is now the modern city of Bulawayo.

Lobengula, according to Chadwick, exhibited 'great cunning and cruelty', had eighty wives who spent most of their day ferrying pitchers of beer to the great warrior king, proving he had both in spades. The book documents Chadwick's time spent with the great King (who called him 'Charlie') and gives a rare insight into the customs, traditions and social structure of an African tribe at the turn of the century.

It's a very interesting book, made all the more arresting by the actual feat of writing it. Chadwick, who is described in the foreword as 'the epitome of the unlucky little man' wrote the book with a pen tied to his right arm, after losing both his hands in a shooting accident.

Leafing through other history books circa the late 19th century, and looking at old sepia photographs of men in Fedoras and droopy moustaches, you can't help feeling a sense of awe. It was a time of the 'white' hunters, prospectors, explorers, adventurers and various shades of assorted villains who descended on the dark continent in pursuit of untold riches and opportunities. In America, it was called the 'Wild West' and has been chronicled and celebrated in thousands of books and films. In Africa, it's called 'colonialism' and can only be found in rare, stuffy old bookshops.

State of Grace

Zimbabwe's First Lady Grace Mugabe has ordered the destruction of a hundred family homes to make way for the expansion of her latest pet project - a children's orphanage. Making people homeless to house the parentless seems to be a reasonable offset for a woman more noted for her Harrods spending sprees rather than her compassion for others.

When completed, the state-of-the-art orphanage on 48 hectares of land, will have a children's home, a nursery, a school, a vocational training centre and a hospital. But that's not all. Also included in the development, are 30 five-bedroom houses, a shopping centre, a restaurant and guest chalets. Perhaps the inclusion of an orphanage was just enough to tug heartstrings at the planning office. Even Lady Macbeth has to go by the rules it seems.

While on the subject of orphans. I visited Chipangali wildlife sanctuary (Former patron Princess Diana) on the outskirts of Bulawayo the other day. They too are suffering. With no tourist revenue and hardly any local visitors, they are really struggling to look after and feed their animals. (I went on a Sunday which in the past was normally their busiest day and I was the only one there!)

To compound things, last year the orphanage lost its only two last remaining Rhinos, killed by poachers for their horns. It has also suffered numerous break-ins with heart-breaking consequences.

Chipangali director Kevin Wilson told me: "We used to have a domestic children's zoo in the Princess Diana Memorial Education Centre with rabbits, ducks, goats and sheep for the children to play with and touch. Unfortunately, they've all be stolen over the years for food."

Zimbabwe 1 (own goal) - Tourists nil

Zimbabwe's Ministry of Tourism (and you thought your job was tough) is gearing itself up for an influx of tourists to the country during the World Cup. Quite why it thinks, football fans would want to come here is another matter. There's nothing for them to do here, except bungee jump at Victoria Falls. Everyone has already been beaten up and there's nothing left to vandalise.

Tourism and Hospitality Industry minister Walter Mzembi is counting on a spill over of 130,000 World Cup visitors, spending US $200 million while they're here. Where he's getting his figures from is a mystery. My guess is he's been chatting with Mugabe's nephew, businessman and former ZANU PF MP Philip Chiyanga, who 'won' the exclusive and lucrative contract to sell Fifa's World Cup hospitality packages despite being on the international sanctions list. (How did that happen? Does anyone read at FIFA?).

Walter, obviously hasn't been paying attention to FIFA who have slashed ticket prices after admitting that their prediction of 450 000 international football tourists coming to South Africa was over-optimistic. But like many of Mugabe's cronies, Walter is clearly suffering from World Cup fever. The symptoms being a combination of greed and delusions.

Hard Times

I try and walk every morning for at least an hour, weather permitting. Fortunately, I'm staying on the outskirts of Bulawayo which is bordered by 'bush'. I enjoy traversing the numerous little worn ochre paths that weave through the bush because it offers a sense of adventure (have to watch out for snakes) which pounding the road doesn't. I also love walking too because it gives me time to think. The thought process combined with exercise seems to produce a positive outlook and generally fires me up for the rest of the day. (Must be the endorphin release!)

You also notice things when walking which you wouldn't otherwise if driving in a car. To get to 'the bush', I have to pass through what was once middle-class white suburbia. I notice many of the houses now stand empty and that many of the once pristine gardens have been turned into vegetable allotments. Ian, my host, says that many people have just upped and left, part of the great Zimbabwe diaspora over the past decade.

Some people have emailed me and asked me why I didn't blog for the past three months. To be honest, it has been an unsettling period. Moving to another country as well as a new relationship has not been easy. Like moving to two countries at once. Trying to find work in one and trying to work out the other. It has been very difficult and insecure period in my life. Not knowing where I'm going to live, what I'm going to do, how to have a relationship with someone who lives for the most part of the year in a tent in the bush etc. All vexing questions still without answers for the time being.

Fortunately, I thrive quite well on the move and have an army of welcoming friends in this part of the world with spare rooms and guest cottages. None of whom seem to mind having a increasingly pensive Irishman pacing about the house for a few weeks at a time. As for work, I've had to go back to journalism again at a time when the profession has never been more unwelcoming. Global recession, a huge drop in advertising and a general loss of appetite for foreign news in the UK has made things increasingly tough. Finding and writing the stories has never been the problem. It's finding newspapers and magazines willing to publish and pay for them. But I have little choice. Apart from film-making, I'm not really qualified to do anything else.

Elle is having it tough too. She's dependent on raising funds to continue her Hyaena project at a time when funding has receded worldwide. She needs to raise a minimum of fifteen thousand pounds just for her research alone (not counting a salary!). It doesn't sound alot but in the present economic climate its a small fortune.

She's back in the bush now, living in a semi-collapsed tent besieged by mosquitos and constant rain. We haven't seen each other since we parted company in Cape Town about a month ago and have kept in touch by text and email. She's about 600km from where I'm staying and I planning to visit her in the next ten days. It's hard being apart sometimes and not without its doubts and concerns. But then again they say 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'. I hope so.
　

Back in Never Never Land

UK and Irish residents are now being charged R550 (£50) for a tourist visa to enter Zimbabwe. This is bit like paying your way into a funpark knowing all the rides are broken. When the visa man at Bulawayo airport asked me how long I intended to stay and I replied a month he asked me why? Which is a good question. Why indeed would anyone want to stay a month in a country which looks like Haiti.

It's been four months since I was here last (see blogs passim) and little has changed. Power cuts are daily and at irregular times. Shop shelves are stacked with food which only the few can afford with prices almost double that of South Africa. (A 400ml bottle of 'Head and Shoulders' costs £6 !). The roads are potholed (made worse by the heavy rain right now) and the traffic lights don't work, which makes driving like a video game. But somehow, life goes on.

The new Unity government here continues in political stalemate. Mugabe hasn't helped matters by passing the new legislation (Economic Indigenisation and Empowerment Act) which demands that all major foreign companies in the country sign over 51 per cent shares to black Zimbabweans. (This all sounds very empowering until you read the small print which says the shares have to be bought. The only Zimbabweans who can afford this are Bob's golden circle of rich mates).

This latest move has sent jitters through the stock markets and put the frighteners on those thinking in of investing in a country which needs all the help it can get to pull itself out of the economic morass it finds itself in. Already, a number of multinationals who have a prescence in the country, have put a hold on expansion plans. If Zimbabwe was a football match, it would full of 'own goals'.