December 23

We leave home at 8.30 with me sitting in the back of the car with Sian and Ellie.  My dad is in the front and John is driving.  I am therefore subjected to numerous rounds of hangman and noughts and crosses.  I also act as a cushion, mattress and fountain of information.  All questions are directed towards me, including 'How far have we gone?' and 'Are we nearly there yet?' (The latter first asked just as we pass through Esigodeni and have about another ten hours of driving to go.)

About 70kms from Zvishivane, we discover that one of the fuel pipes is leaking.  There is nothing to do but carry on driving until we find a place where it can be mended.  In Zvishivane, we find someone in a back street who fixes the problem. By this time, we have lost a third of a tank of fuel, frustrating at any time; even more frustrating in a country where buying fuel is difficult.

In Masvingo, we stop to buy a few groceries.  Pick n Pay is manic.  The shop is so overcrowded you cannot help bumping into people.  I am asked by three different people if I am paying by cash.  I am always approached in a very surreptitious way: there is the smile, the greeting and then, in a lowered voice : 'Are you paying by cash?'  Cash is in such short supply and the queues at the ATMs are so long, that people look for someone paying by cash, offer to buy their groceries for them on their card and then keep the cash.  Unfortunately for them, I have no cash.

The road down to Birchenough Bridge is long and hot.  Baobabs make their appearance.  John asks why you never see baby baobabs, only big ones. Along the road, people sell mats, baskets and hats made out of baobab.  They cut squares out of the baobab trunks and make it into a kind of rope.  We start the climb upwards into the Eastern Highlands, the road gradually becoming more steep and winding.  At Hot Springs, we pass what used to be a hotel.  We used to know the people who ran it, but it was taken over by war veterans during the land invasions.  It looks pretty empty now.  Not far from here are the notorious diamond fields.  Since the diamonds were discovered in this area some years ago, Mugabe, Grace Mugabe, the current president and many government ministers have done extremely well; the Zimbabwean people have not benefitted at all.

Around about 4pm, I receive a missed call from Elizabeth.  I phone her back and discover that she does not have a key to get into the house.  John thought I had left the spare key and I thought he had left it as he had locked up.  We are very security conscious - the key is usually left for Elizabeth in a flower pot.  She needs to get in to make the dogs their food.  I phone a friend of ours to ask if he has a similar key (I give him the number), but he hasn't.  However, he and his wife suggest that they take food round for the dogs tonight and they will have a key cut in the morning.  I try to phone Elizabeth to ask her to meet them at the gate.  The phone just rings and rings and rings.  By the time we have reached Mutare, I must have tried thirty times to call her.

The final part of the road from Mutare to the Bvumba, twists and turns as it climbs upwards.  The sun is setting and the distant mountains are a beautiful orange and pink.  We have just stepped over the threshold, leaving reality behind.  The forest is dense and begins to close in on us.  One feels that stirring of all things magical.

We follow the directions we were given by Ritz.  It is now 7 o'clock but I had messaged her to say we had run into car trouble.  A night guard comes to the gate with a map and tells us we need to go back a bit and then down a steep mountain road.  So we do so.  The road is very steep and bumpy, but eventually we arrive at where the guard told us to go.  We hoot, but no one comes so I phone Ritz who tells us that the guard has mistaken us with another family due to stay in this cottage - we need to go back on the main road.  She says she will meet us halfway.  

A figure doing what appears to be star jumps with a torch in hand leaps out of the darkness and introduces himself as Ron. 

'Hey, where are you guys from?'

'Bulawayo.'

'Bullies.  I love Bullies.  It's my favourite place.'

Bulawayo tends to be a favourite with people who don't live there.

A very flustered Ritz appears armed with a number of forms and maps. The car is parked at a sharp angle on a dark, bumpy road; we left home eleven hours ago and we are all hot and tired - and Ritz asks me to fill in a form - name, address, all that sort of thing.  

'What now?' snaps John.

'Yes. won't take two minutes.'  She pushes the form through the window.

'Now?' repeats Ron.  Even he can see it may not be the best time.

'Yes, yes,' she retorts and then begins to reel off directions to our cottage and other numerous rules and regulations.  'And do me a favour, will you?  Just stop off at the place you went to first and tell the night guard that this map needs to be given to the other people coming.'

'And if you could do me a favour as well,' begins Ron.  I can see John is about to explode.  You cannot ask people who have just travelled eleven hours to do you favours.  I think he senses John is about to punch him because he stops and we never get to hear what the favour is.

'You are very lucky; you have a full generator,' he begins again in a jolly tone.  'Only please don't use it to heat water.'

Please shut up, I think.  Please just shut up.

'Hey, boet,' says Ron, looking in at the dashboard of the car.  'You're nearly on empty.'
I close my eyes and pray.  Some people are boet (brother) people, some people aren't.  John is not.  John never will be.  Is it not clear, I think?  Is he wearing a cap with wraparound sunglasses? No. For crying out loud, the man can't braai a sausage. Don't call him boet.  

At this point, John begins to put his foot on the accelerator. 

'What kind of an idiot does he think I am that I would drive all the way here with no extra fuel? John mutters angrily as we reach the main road and look for the turn off to the cottage.

We eventually arrive at our cottage at 8pm.  The electricity is off but we have brought our inverter and soon get a couple of lights going.  The girls are very excited and run around, looking at all the bedrooms.  I am glad I made a meal to eat tonight as cooking is the last thing I feel like doing.  I am so happy to be in one of my favourite places.