December 1

It's the first day of the last month of the year and I am exhausted.  It's the end of term, but I am doing a lot of online work and I am tremendously busy. I wish it was possible to survive on my salary, but I think the longest it has lasted is ten days.  Like all Zimbabweans, we have a number of jobs.  The B&B is just one of our incomes.

I am very grateful for the things that do bring us some money, but it does mean working all hours and sometimes you have to ask yourself if the amount of work put in is worth it. I spend so much time writing articles about things I am not even interested in and there is so much I would rather be doing.  At the moment, all I want to do is get out in the garden and do some weeding.  I want to make the Christmas pudding and finish the book I have been reading for the last three months.

The electricity has been on for a whole week.  As today is the first, there is a big rush to buy electricity as the first 200 units bought every month are cheaper than the next batch.  We are very low on electricity but John and Ellie are at an all day panto rehearsal and I am busy so we will have to stretch it out until tomorrow.

November 30

Today I am reading a children's story I wrote at the Hillside Dams Art and Craft Fair.  This is the furthest I have gone in writing for children.

When I was 14 and desperate to be an author, I wrote two stories for children.  One, called How Winston Warthog gots his Tusks, was published in The Chronicle and the other - I forget the title - was published in The Bulawayo Bulletin.  I don't remember much about the latter except that they spelt my name wrong, but that's been the story of my life.

I was very excited to have my story published in The Chronicle and can remember my French teacher congratulating me in class.  Many years later, I was seven months pregnant with Ellie and we were on a very wet camping holiday.  We were living in Zambia at the time and decided to go back to Zimbabwe for Christmas, via Malawi and Mozambique.  It rained the entire time we were away.  Every single day, it just poured down incessantly.  One of my most vivid memories of the trip was camping on the shores of Lake Malawi and holding the tent down at three o'clock in the morning as it was about to be blown away.  Sian was only three at the time and at night time I would tell her stories that I made up.  Winston Warthog was one of them.  

Over the years, both girls have loved the stories but they generally get out of hand as the girls contribute to the storyline which becomes more and more outrageous. Basically, Winston Warthog is a naughty little boy warthog who is a very bad speller.  He has a friend who is a very bad magician and can never get anything  right.  He also has a sister, Winstonia, and a fitness fanatic mother who makes courgette cakes and lettuce milkshakes. 

I have worked quite hard to get this story ready and polished enough to read to an audience.  The children are great.  Some of them are a little distracted, but others are very attentive.  Ellie is very proud as she has helped me quite a lot with this story. A few years ago, I wanted to start a reading campaign.  I have done quite a lot of research on the benefits of reading to children and it's a subject I push all the time. The most important thing that parents can do for their children is to read to them.  It's incredibly sad that so many don't.

November 29

The electricity has been on all week.  A colleague at work says she

longs for a power cut as she cannot afford full time electricity.  This is the absurdity of the situation. We discuss the possibility of self-imposed power cuts.

Initially, I thought someone was being paid to keep the electricity on in Hillside.  Perhaps there was a conference somewhere or someone's sister's daughter was getting married and they had slipped the Main Switcher Off-er (made up word) a cool US$500 to keep it on all week? Or is that not enough?  How much would one ask for in that situation?

My other theory, and John says there is no way this is true, is that it's ZESA's Christmas present to its customers.  Every week until the end of December, at least one area will have electricity the whole week.  Just so we remember what it's like and we feel very thankful and appreciative and don't think that ZESA is half as bad as we usually do.

Another theory, is that ZESA have run out of money.  The power is off for so long that they are not making anything out of it.  They may as well just close.

Yet another theory is that it is all paart of the psychological warfare waged against us by the government.  They give us something, then they take it away and make us suffer and then, just as we approach breaking point, they give it back.  It's all an attempt to mess with your head.

November 28

In the evening, I get the usual Thursday evening phone call.
'Hello?'
'Hello.'
'Can I help you?'
'Is that . . . er . . . Limerick Cottages?'
'Yes.'
'I am looking for somewhere for tomorrow night. For . . . er . . . two people.'
'OK.  Is that a couple sharing?'
Long guilty pause. 'Yes.'

For some reason, it is often a woman who phones.  I can imagine the man saying to his mistress: Look, I'm coming to Bulawayo for the weekend.  You find us somewhere to stay.'

That somewhere is usually quite cheap though and luckily we are generally too expensive for someone just wanting a dirty weekend away.  Wives are bound to find out if too much money is spent. We have actually been asked before if we would still charge for two people if the girlfriend only came round in the morning, six o'clock in the morning. We said, yes, that's fine.  By the way, we hope you like dogs.  Rolo is very bouncy first thing in the morning. never heard from them again.

Tonight, the lady who phones asks where we are so I describe our general location.  She wants the exact address, but I am not willing to give it to her unless she actually books.

Finally, I ask her if she is coming and she says she will let me know tomorrow. That is a definite no. I am very glad.  I hope I don't sound prudish; what people get up to in their own time is up to them.  What I don't want to happen is for us to get a bad reputation.

November 27

The shoulder pain is much better.  I can’t believe how well I slept last night. 

There is a lot on social media about being positive and feeling grateful for what you have. Sometimes, I feel many of these messages are a bit glib.  In the political and economic climate in which we live, so much is against you from the start, never mind your own personal experiences which may make you feel more depressed. 

The happiness gurus will tell you that one of the biggest problems with human beings is that they are never satisfied with their lot; we are always looking for more.  We begin our thoughts with the words ‘I’ll be happy when . . .’ I feel another idiosyncrasy is that we connect happiness to material possessions, although we know that some of the unhappiest people are extremely wealthy.  The irony here is that those people have nothing more to aim for because they can have everything and therefore their lives are made glaringly empty.  Those of us who can lie in bed at night, dreaming of having enough money to paint the walls or replace the carpet at least have something to keep ourselves going.

               There are two steep roads in Bulawayo; there may be more, but I cannot think of them. One is in the middle of town by the High Court ( a favourite with driving school instructors) and the other is in Suburbs, running from Park road up to Duncan road. Driving up the hill today, I notice an elderly woman in a wheelchair being pushed by an equally elderly man.  I stop and very generously offer them Sian and her friend’s help, but the man waves us on.

‘I am actually very fit,’ he smiles, ‘but thank you for asking.  Have a lovely day.’

I drop Sian and her friend at a house on Duncan road and, as I am reversing, the couple come sailing along the road.  I have no idea how they managed to get up the hill so fast. It is quite incredible.  The man is obviously quite right when he says he is fit.

Along Winnie’s Way there is a man who spends the entire day standing next to potholes that he has filled in with sand.  If I ever have change, and that is rare, I stop and give him something.  He is always very chirpy and very grateful for the smallest of coins.  Even if I do not stop, he always waves and gives me a thumbs up sign. Little does he know that he is in a short story I wrote.

In the evening we go to a carol concert at Ellie’s school.  It is hot, but the singing is beautiful.  The opening carol is When a Child is Born.  ‘A ray of hope flickers through the sky.’ Perhaps I am just tired, or maybe it’s because I love this carol, but I have a sudden urge to cry.  I think of the elderly couple waving me on and the man who fills in potholes giving me a thumbs up.  There is much to be grateful for.

November 26

A wood cutter, euphemistically referred to as a ‘tree doctor’, comes to cut the wood up so it can be moved out of the way.  Elizabeth receives a large pile of firewood and there is still plenty left over for us.  John will have to improve his braai skills so we can cook more food on the open fire.  The tree doctor suggests we cut down another large branch as well as it will probably come down in time too.

            Today I am suffering terrific neck and shoulder pain.  I go to the chiropractor who does a fair amount of clicking things back into place. It is getting to that point in the term when getting out of bed in the morning seems to require a supreme effort.

Ellie's Zimbabwean birth certificate is not yet available for collection.

            The electricity is on all day again.  I can’t help think that someone at ZESA has been paid to not switch it off. I don't mind.

November 25

Early last year, we came home to find the dogs going absolutely nuts.  Tallulah even jumped onto the bonnet of the car, she was in such a frenzy.  What we discovered was that the large jacaranda in front of the house had been hit by lightning.  A number of electrical appliances, including the modem, lost their lives that day.

            Since then, every time there is a strong wind, the branches creak ominously.  It is something that has been getting steadily worse and today the branch eventually falls down. Luckily, it misses the house and causes only minimal damage to a nearby frangipani.

            No rain is forecast until next week.  The heat is stifling. We are plagued by insects and mosquitos.


            The electricity is on all day.