Adventures in Zimbabwe Part 1: Masvingo and the Great Zimbabwe

Our travel plan.

With the second trimester over, the last two weeks we've had a break from school and that means TRAVEL of course! With only a few months left here, I want to see as much of Africa as possible, and with our travel ban to Zimbabwe recently lifted, my friends Lisa, Jay, Taylor, and I and I decided to head out there for a few days. Zim has quite a reputation, and we wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

Day 1: Chimoio to Masvingo (via Mutare)

After a last-minute change in travel plans, we met in Chimoio and took the world's slowest chapa to the border town, Machipanda. There, we had our passports stamped by grumpy Mozambican officials, crossed No Man's Land, had the passports stamped again by less grumpy Zimbabwean officials, and crossed the threshold into Zimbabwe, that mystical land.

Our first impression of Zimbabwe was... not good. Immediately after crossing the border, we were assaulted by fifteen different taxi drivers, all wanting to take us the 10k from the border to the border town. "Hey. You. You guys. You need a taxi? Come! I have a taxi! Come with me! Come! I take you to Mutare. Come! Come now!"

When we finally got to Mutare, it got worse! Suddenly EVERYONE wanted to know where we were going. We were literally followed around by a mob of about thirty taxi drivers, minibus conductors, and random curious people all shouting "WHERE ARE YOU GOING? WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" We were so overwhelmed, that when we saw a restaurant on the side of the road advertising fried chicken, we ran for cover.

The restaurant, called Chicken Inn, we would later learn is the Zimbabwean version of McDonalds... greasy fast food, delicious if you're hungry in a pinch, and kind of disdained by everyone. In any case, it had the absolute best slogan I've ever seen at a chicken place: Luv Dat Chicken. It was on all the takeout boxes, stamped on the plastic silverware, and painted huge on the walls. We were in need of a laugh, and I would like to officially say that Luv Dat Chicken made us giggle. A lot.

After a much-needed lunch break, we hopped on a minibus out of Mutare (good riddance!) and headed to the southern town of Masvingo. We reached it six hours later, and exhaustedly, ended up eating dinner at the Pizza Inn, which is identical to the Chicken Inn in every way except it serves pizza and their slogan is not "Luv Dat Pizza." I was disappointed. Still, it was just about the only thing still open, and we were HUNGRY. Shortly thereafter, we made our way to the Masvingo Backpacker's rest, a run-down and odd little self-proclaimed hostel situated near the center of town. We fell asleep the minute our heads hit the pillows.

Day 2: Masvingo and Great Zimbabwe

Bright and early the next morning, we hopped on a minibus to take us to Great Zimbabwe, an old ruined city just outside of Masvingo. Great Zimbabwe is a relic of the Kingdom of Zimbabwe, during the late Iron Age, and is quite an architectural feat. The monument is huge, with tall walls and imposing towers. The walls are made with stacked stones, not using any mortar, and have stood, unchanged, for hundreds of years.

The Great Zimbabwe

When white settlers came to Zimbabwe, they were astounded, and couldn't believe that this huge structure could have been built by the black "savages" that inhabited Africa -- indeed, Rhodesians went to great lengths to prove that the structure was built by Arabs or Indians, despite the fact that there are several smaller, similar structures across Mashona-land and Manica-land. Though archeologists pretty much agree that Great Zimbabwe was built by the Shona people, several self-proclaimed "Rhodesians" still tried to convince us that it's all a big conspiracy. (Sigh) In any case, it's a national monument of Zimbabwe to this day -- in fact, the bird sculptures of some type of eagle found within Great Zimbabwe are the origin of the Zimbabwean national bird featured on the flag and found all over the country -- billboards, buses, clothing, etc.

The walls are just stacked stone -- no mortar.

 There are several parts of the Great Zimbabwe; One of them is the Hilltop, where we went first thing in the morning as per the advice of a wise friend. The climb is pretty steep, and Lisa and I are both out of shape -- we were panting soon after we started, and it took us a good half hour to climb to the top. Jay, who is actually in shape, must have been super annoyed with us as he sprung up two steps at a time. The view from the top, though, was worth it!

At the top, we found a whole group of university students on a field trip, crawling over every piece of the monument. As we emerged into the clearing, they honed in on us like lions circling prey.

"Excuse me," one of them said, "Can I please snap a pic with you?"

We looked at each other. "Umm.... sure?"

MISTAKE!

We ended up having to take pictures with about four dozen super eager university students, each one wanting several pictures on their phones, their ipads, and one guy who was carrying his laptop around, videoing with his webcam. "Where are you from?" they all wanted to know. "How do you like Mozambique? What is America like? Can we take a picture of us hugging?"

There were so many more than just these.

 It was, like the rest of Zimbabwe, overwhelming, and we found ourselves asking a question, not for the first time, "Where are the white people?" I already knew that Zimbabwe's population is 98% black, but unlike Mozambique and South Africa, we had yet to come across a single white person.  Sure, a lot of them left during Mugabe's reign of terror, but a lot of them didn't... Where were they all hiding? This was a question that would perplex us until our arrival in Harare.

We took the rest of the day to wander around Great Zimbabwe, looking at the intricate stone walls and even witnessing a traditional Shona dance. Once we had explored all there was to explore, we did Lisa and my favorite thing to do -- got coffee and sit around. Aaaah.

The day was a success! Great Zimbabwe is fascinating, if a bit under-maintained, and I would recommend a visit for anyone who goes to Zimbabwe.

Narrow stone steps leading to the Hilltop

Trees peek through the boulders.

This toothless old lady was pretty sassy.

Beware of rocks falling on elderly gentlemen!

 Next time: Harare!

How the Pig Got His Snout (& The Red Zebra Project!)

As a component of our community library, I've been working with my missionary friend Jeni, and an organization called the Red Zebra Project. Jeni is a linguist, working with her husband to translate the bible into Nyungwe. Jeni and her colleague David work on the Red Zebra Project to create booklets of traditional stories and scripture in Nyungwe. They distribute these in communities to inspire a love of reading and to spread the word of God.

Jeni distributes these stories and books in Tete City and other Nyungwe populations, and the people go absolutely bananas for these stories. One time, Jeni and I were sitting in a café in Tete City, and some kids came up to the window and started miming their favorite book, "Posi-Piri-Tatu," ("One-Two-Three"). Similarly, in our Mavudzi library, kids can't wait for the time when we put our puzzles away and read a Nyungwe book together.

Anyone who has talked to me for more than ten minutes knows that religion is not a big part of my life -- really, it's not a part of my life at all. But the work I see Jeni and our other missionary friends doing is wonderful, and I applaud them for it. We Peace Corps volunteers come to these places and we think, "Wow, twenty-seven months! I'm so awesome for sticking it out here!" when missionaries spend decades living here, really getting to know their communities and making a tangible difference.

Here's a shout-out to missionaries everywhere.

But I digress. What I really wanted to write about today is a Red Zebra story that I was working on today with my Nyungwe teacher. (Hey, I'm learning from these books too!) Quizito helped me to translate the story so I could understand all the words, and I liked it so much I thought I would share it with you -- with a little embellishment added for story-telling flair. I'm curious to know how my and Quizito's interpretation differ from the original.

How the Pig Got His Snout

Once upon a time, all the animals with horns in the kingdom decided to throw a party. Only animals with horns could come to the party. No horns, no party!

"I don't have horns!" the pig thought glumly, "But I love parties! What am I going to do?"

But the clever pig soon had an idea. He broke off some sticks and glued them to his head using tree sap.

"Perfect! No one will know the difference," he said, giving his new horns a shake before striding confidently to the party.

When the pig got to the party, everyone was having fun and dancing. The pig, being very fond of dancing, joined in. Soon, his homemade horns became unstuck and fell to the ground.

Immediately, all the other animals stopped dancing and glared angrily at the pig.

"Where are your horns? No horns, no party!"

They picked up the pig, held him high in the air, and threw him out of the party.

The poor pig landed on the ground, next to his horns, right on his beautiful, regal nose (of which the pig was very fond). His nose crumpled and flattened it into a snout, and remains that way to this day.

That is why you should not stare the poor pig's disfigured snout.

A Feira

I woke a few mornings ago thinking it would be a normal Friday, which usually involves me making a long to-do list and then ignoring everything on it while I stay in bed, watching movies and reading all day. Fridays are nice.

But no, that day was different, and I enjoyed it. As I was sitting down to chow down on a large lunchtime cabbage salad, Redi came over and told me that Sister Antonia (a Brazilian nun that lives here) was putting on a craft fair (uma feira) at the market.

"Tikuenda pa bodzi!" ("Let's go together!") I said to her.

At the market, everyone was standing around a group of tables. The tabletops were filled with crafts -- lacy house-decor, flower-adorned ceramic pots, and homemade candles and perfumes.Everyone was staring, afraid to touch anything. After a small opening ceremony which Redi and I didn't pay attention to, as we had discovered cake and were stuffing our faces, the market was officially declared OPEN, and all hell broke loose.

Women swatted each other away to get at decorative fans to hang on walls. People called dibs on plates of cookies and sweets. I'm pretty sure I overheard the Chief of Police telling a student that he would arrest his whole family if he didn't "put that plate of doce de coco down THIS MINUTE." Apparently, it's his wife's favorite.

It was clearly a success, and Antonia was buzzing around, beaming the whole time. "Gente!" she said in her oh-so-Brazilian accent, "Que beleza!"

As a teacher, and thus somewhat of an authority figure in the community, I was expected to purchase something. I bought two little bottles of perfume, and gave one to Redi "so we can smell the same." It's not the best perfume ever, but it's better than armpit smell, and that's about where my standards are right now.

This was the first event of its kind here in Mavudzi-Ponte, and it was surprisingly successful. I'm always impressed at the initiative of people in this town to take a hold of their own future. All the girls that helped Antonia learned new skills (which they will be able to use to create their own income) and hopefully will not need to rely on men to provide for them. And my student, Tiger, who recently got a contract selling phone credit, made a bunch of sales that day.

More power to you all! This is how communities develop!

Set-up of the craft fair.

Handmade pots, $6-10

Brooms, 80 cents. Spoons, 1 cent.

A crowd of children curiously watches from the sidelines.

The market is open!

Redi bought a huuuuuge decorative vase.

Our friendly USAID activists look on.

Antonia, the organizer, shows off a vase.

Simpo's happy, all he wanted was a coke.