October 17

The electricity is off the whole day until 7pm.

We are expecting a friend of a friend whom we knew when we were in Zambia, but who has since moved back to the UK.  She is flying into Victoria Falls at lunchtime and then hopes to get a bus down to Bulawayo.  I have been trying to find out some information for her, such as how much a taxi is from the airport into town.  It is US$30.  I momentarily consider giving up my job as a teacher and moving to Victoria Falls to work as a taxi driver.

In the afternoon, I receive a message from her that she has landed safely, but the next bus to Bulawayo is the Extra City at 11pm.  It will arrive tomorrow at 5am.  She assures us that she does not need to be picked up at that time and is quite happy to wait in a cafe or waiting room.  Knowing where the bus stops, we are doubtful there will be either.  At most, it is a car park.  John generously agrees to meet her at 5am.

I have my last lesson with a boy who comes for  extra tuition.  He tells me that he plans to study and work at the same time next year.  He is adamant that he is never coming back to live in Zimbabwe.  His grandparents - his grandfather has passed away - are Italian and moved here as refugees after the Second World War.  It is so very sad that what was once seen as a haven, a place of new beginnings for so many people, is now a place to run from.  The problem with being a teacher in a private school is that essentially you educate young people to leave and enrich the economy of another country. I am not sure what I will do with my afternoons anymore.  Rolo will miss him and his shoes.

As it is the beginning of half term, we splash out and buy a bottle of red wine.  We don't really drink very much anymore; if we do, it's cheapo Gilby's gin and mango juice. Tonic water has become something of a luxury.