61. Zimbabwe: Victoria Falls to Bulawayo

Perhaps even more than South Africa, we grew up reading about Zimbabwe (Rhodesia until 1980), in Time Magazine. Therefore we arrived with more of a preconception than any other country on this trip. Zimbabwe was just 3 years out of a 14-year civil war.  We had had more warnings from consulates about how dangerous it was to travel, particularly in Matabeleland.  We had spent a number of weeks in Kolwezi, Zaire, where many of the buildings still had bullet holes in walls and mortar holes in roads.  Even Mwanza, Tanzanía, had many signs of the conflict with Uganda that had been a very temporary business.  However, the Zimbabwe that we encountered was clean, painted, the shops were well-stocked with goods produced in Zimbabwe itself.  The trains were clean, ran on time and were not oversubscribed.

The soldiers running rampant on the trains were annoying, and disturbed our sleep, but did not seem particularly sinister.  It is only today as this is being edited that we realize that we were passing through Matabeleland during the time (1982-1985) where many people are thought to have disappeared in the “low-grade” conflict between the former ZAPU (Nkomo) and ZANU (Mugabe) forces.  At that time the differences were more clearly along ethnic lines, Matabele and Shona, respectively.  It is still difficult to believe that Mugabe, already head of the government since 1980 is still president of the country, nearly 35 years later.

 

Our route through Zimbabwe: red is for train travel and yellow for hitch-hiking

Victoria Falls - Wankie, Zimbabwe, Tuesday, 28 June, 1983

I sat with the packs at the train station while Dan looked around for places to get Zimbabwe dollars. I could actually have sat on the floor, they keep it so spotless. His best rate was there at the station, so he bought our two third class tickets to the infamous Bulawayo. We were tempted to take a picture of that model of a station. It is at the end of the line, and Victoria Falls is a resort, so there are not many passen­gers. It is an old, well-kept-up building, complete with gardens and a goldfish pond. I suppose that the rich folk used to come in by train, but now they fly in.

We found a fancy super market where we stocked up on cheese (at last! for the first time since Las Palmas!), crackers and a can of guava halves. Dan and I can swear that the canned guavas are DELICIOUS. All of the products we bought were made or processed in Bulawayo. We also bought a good, cheap bar of soap.

Our first edition “Africa on the Cheap” had warned that the Zimbabwe side of the Falls would probably be in a run-down condition because it had been through fighting, and the stately old Victoria Falls Hotel had been bombed. We found it very much to the contrary, with the Zambian side being comparatively unkempt.

For the first part of the trip (Dan surmised that it is because it is flat) we were pulled by a steam locomotive. All of the cars are old, but in excellent condition. The windows even have two interlaced Rs for Rhodesia Railways etched on them. We had a compartment for six for just the two of us, but our car was carrying the very noisy military escort.  Dan talked with a couple two doors down from us: Peace Corps in Lesotho. They invited us to stop by there, so we are hoping to do that.

Dan and vintage steam locomotive out of Victoria Falls.

We were disappointed to get a night train, especially since we would be passing through the famous Wankie (now Hwange) wildlife reserve, but we are glad we did not go back to Lusaka because of out-of-date scare stories. As far as we can tell, all of the passenger trains here travel at night.

A good bit after dark we started to climb some, so we changed to a diesel engine. I do not consider myself a steam engine buff, but I admit it was thrilling to hear this one chugging and tooting.

We did sight some game before it got too dark, several herds of wildebeest and several troops of self-important warthogs trotting with their tails straight up.

Victoria Falls - Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, Tuesday, 28 June, 1983

(DAN) I do not know if we had the entire military escort in our car, but there were maybe twenty in three compartments. They put up a ruckus most of the time and for a long time periodically jiggled our door and looked in. There were a couple of times when it was even a little scary: after Wankie, where violence is supposed to be “hottest,” we stopped for a couple of long waits. The soldiers kind of ran up and down the aisle, shouted and made ominous sounds of preparation with their machine guns. It may have been entirely for the benefit of the four white passengers. There were not many more.

The sun did eventually rise, and we were all fed and packed by the time we neared Bulawayo. Seen from the direction we entered, it is a pretty depressing sight. The three sides of Bulawayo north, east, and south of the railway station were the “white”, residential and business areas with the “other side” reserved for industry and (formerly) black housing. We never did see suburbs that made us say, “Ah, that is where the blacks live”, but we surely got a gander at the large industry. When we came in at 0700 in the morning, the skyline was almost as smoggy a sight as I have ever seen. Smoke poured from a bunch of smoke stacks, four of which are of the “Three Mile island” type. These turned out to belong to the coal-burning power plant here.

Smog upon approach to Bulawayo

The train station, largest in Zimbabwe, was a huge structure of brick and very clean. There are some interesting vestiges of segregation. I do not know if there were ever “white only” designations, but there is still definite economic segregation. First and second class have their waiting room and toilets and third and fourth have theirs. The ones in first and second are designated “Ladies and Gentlemen” while third and fourth are simply “Toilets”. When we went into the room marked “Tickets and Reser­vations” which could have been in a modern airport, we found it to be only for first and second class. The other classes are reserved at an unmarked office about 500 meters down the rails from where we got off the train. The train itself was “separate”. There was the engine followed by third and fourth classes, then the diner, then first and second class. The diner had a kitchen and tables at each end for the different classes, but one could not pass from one end to the other, so we were in fact sealed off. We must add that third and fourth classes were VERY clean and glossily painted. The cars were probably from the late forties, but then so were those of first and second.

Bulawayo station seen from the train

Our first stop was the tourist information office, so we set off in the direction of the town hall. Though the stores were still closed, it appeared that the stores in the two to three block vicinity of the station catered to the bottom classes with enamel­ware, Bata shoes, and such articles. The farther west and north we went, the more Bula­wayo looked like a prosperous Midwestern city, say Omaha, with wide, well-paved streets, and well-painted buildings of moderate heights. A well-appointed used car lot every now and then. Thinking farther, I would say it was MORE prosperous-looking than a Midwestern city. We did not see one unkempt building, starting 8 blocks from the station, and all were NEWLY painted.

The information office is in the old town hall building set back in beautiful gar­dens that include large old trees. First I stopped by the public bathroom on the corner of the block. I paid $.05, but it was immaculate and there was hot water!!! and toilet paper provided!  Bathrooms lately have been referred to as “ablution blocks”. The young info lady (black) was most helpful, knew exactly where both camping grounds and youth hostels were, and had concrete answers to all my questions. The campground was not far away, adjacent to Centenary Park which in turn was across the street from the National Museum. We opted for the campground.

We were glad: It used to be part of the larger park, has beautiful, huge eucalyp­tus, palm, and other trees, beautiful grass, and fine accommodations. The ablution blocks were as clean as could possibly be. There was plenty of hot water, showers, and immaculate bathtubs, ample clothes-washing facilities and rotating steel rack clothes lines. The price was $1.95 for the two of us (Zimbabwean dollars are more or less equal to U.S. dollars). I lost no time in jumping into a tub for one of my infamous soaks, our first hot water since Bujumbura, Burundi!

Helena started in on the clothes which go so much faster under these conditions, and I finished while she plodded away in the journal. The sun was shining and the sky so blue it is difficult to believe this place was at war only three years ago. On the other hand as we walked over here, we saw newsstands with the headlines: “No longer safe for bandits in Botswana” referring to Nkomo and his people who are now “outlaws”. Maybe Zimbabwe has gotten adept at putting its best face forward.

By the time we had all of our homekeeping done, it was nearly 1400 when the banks close, so we set off at a brisk pace to change enough money for our folly. (Can you believe there is no black market?) The bank was pretty efficient, and we were impressed at the longish, orderly lines that had formed. They end about twenty feet from the window, and one person advances to the window when it is empty!!!

Next stop was our “tour agent”. They also rent cars, so we looked into renting a vehicle to do the same thing tomorrow. The park and game preserve start 46 kms. from town, so by the time we added in mileage and gas it was almost as expensive to rent a small Datsun, but without a guide for the game park. Not to mention that I have never driven on the left side of the road or used a vehicle with the right hand wheel. So we succumbed to the convenience. The advertised price was $25 per person, BUT there is a 15% sales tax here on all purchases, so it was more like $58 total. Believe me, that 15% hurts each time you make a purchase, but I guess it is going to pay for the parks, bathrooms, and info offices. I would like to know the history behind that sales tax. Did it help to pay for the war?

On the way back we passed a cinema showing “An Officer and a Gentleman”. Helena remembered hearing that it was a good flick, so we decided to complete our splurge and see it. The showing was not until 1730, so we headed back to the camp for another couple of hours of waiting. I am embarrassed to mention that in addition to all this, we strayed into a “Swiss Confectioner’s Shop” and picked up some doughnuts and holes. The holes we inhaled on the spot; the doughnuts were saved for the pre-show tea back at the tent. Wow! At this rate we shall be tired of the “good life” again even before we get back to the States.

The movie, as some of you may know, was not all that hot, but as a social experiment was interesting. The cheapest tickets were $2.25 which I am sure rules out MANY people. There were maybe 10% black people, all congregated down in the front. Everybody was in FANCY duds except for the bearded tourist in khaki shorts and tennis shoes. Bulawayans at least in this part of town are clothes conscious in the extreme.

About the social experiment: the plot was about a bunch of raw, immature, college graduates who come for boot camp where people are weeded out before naval aviation training. These kids are put in the charge of an abusive, extremely profane sergeant. Now, the sergeant is black and most of the trainees are white including the hero who, though a “wop”, is white for Zimbabwean purposes. We wondered what the well-dressed, prep school-educated white 90% of the audience thought while all this profane, physical abuse went on. Let’s just say that the front row did a lot more laughing than the rest of the theatre.

Though we walked home through a white neighborhood at 2000 hrs, we did not see any white people on foot at all.

A slightly chilly night even with the tent zipped tight.