Trips With James Harare

Coming to Zimbabwe: My Life Changing African Adventure

Part Two of My Journey to Teach in Zimbabwe.
Ethiopia, Chinese Colonialism, and Twenty/20 Cricket!

(This is an ongoing series of stories about my travels in Africa, and specifically Zimbabwe, since 2012. I was hired to judge a national drama contest and was the first American to have this position in the 100 years of the event. The flight took 37 hours and what greeted me was a whole new experience. Thanks for reading and enjoy! This is a re-edited article from 2016. )

Thursday, June 21, 2012
Travel Day
Day 1
I am flying high over the Atlantic on Ethiopian Airlines. Talk about luxury. Certainly no American airline offers this kind of service any more. Blankets and pillows for everyone. Free meal and free booze and basically free everything. The people are incredibly friendly. They ask what I am doing and when I tell them, they all give me advice on how to survive in Zimbabwe and Africa in general. People are friendly everywhere if you take the time with them, and are courteous yourself. But this was really very pleasant.

My stopover in Washington was completely uneventful. I landed at 1:45 AM and had booked a hotel room. I am just too old to try to sleep in a row of chairs in the airport. It was worth it because I was exhausted after a day of taking care of last-minute details and the stress that I have every time I fly. Plus, it was really nice to spend one last night in what I perceive as American-style luxury: TV, ESPN, AC, coffee in the room, and a very large hot shower.

I am watching the cutest little Ethiopian boy run up and down the aisles. Big smile on his face as he laughingly runs back and forth. How can you not smile at that? The pure joy of just being able to run around with no cares.

Even with the help of alcohol and a few pills, it is very hard for me to sleep on a plane. Although for one stretch, I did manage to until a beautiful air hostess woke me up because I was drooling. How romantic and sexy is that image?

Addis Abeba, Capitol of Ethiopia

I am about halfway to Addis Abeba, and I still have 9 more hours after I land there. I will arrive in Harare around 12 PM on Thursday. This jet lag is going to be awful. (For spelling junkies – Addis Ababa can be spelled two ways. I choose to use the spelling used by the official Ethiopian Mapping Authority: Addis Abeba.)

I will try to send this out when I get to Addis Abeba as there is no internet on my planes. I marvel at people who can do all their work from the skies, but unfortunately, I am not booked on one of those flights.

My two seatmates are two Ethiopian men who are returning home after long times away. One is a college professor in computer science in North Carolina, and the other is a man who has not been home for over 15 years, who lives in Seattle and has three kids. They have been very kind, answering all my stupid questions about Ethiopia and trying to teach me useful words.

Listening to Miles Davis at the moment – on the airline sound system – he is so cool that he makes me feel cool just listening to him.

“Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe”……Anatole France.

Addis Abeba

Sunday, June 24, 2012
Day 2
(It is hard to get online here for a number of reasons. So please bear with me. I will write as often as I can.)

I have been flying for about 10 hours now, and it is dawn. I am watching the sunrise over the east coast of Africa, and it is amazing. It is the same sunrise as in any part of the world, but since I have never seen anything in Africa, this is especially amazing. I am flying over Somalia and Khartoum. The view screen on the back of our seats shows us flying over places that I have seen on maps all my life but never imagined that I would ever come near to.

Bole International Airport, Addis Abebe, Ethiopia

As we flew into Addis Abeba, it was gray and dreary. It is winter here, and grey seems the main color. The airport seems in a total state of chaos, but it makes sense to them. There must be 20 or more duty-free shops selling everything that you can imagine. Prayer rooms in all corners of the airport for men and women to pray separately. No clear idea of what gate a flight is landing or taking off from, yet everyone but me seems to know exactly where to go. Someone in LA taught me a phrase in Ethiopian that means “good health to you.” A common greeting, I was told. So I have tried it on about 10 people in the last day or so. I usually get a strange stare. t is due to my amazing and very special pronunciation, I am sure.

The plane that I am taking to Harare is the size of a sardine can. We have not even taken off, and the man behind me is already snoozing loudly. Every third person on this flight is Chinese. Talking with people on the other plane, they confirm that while we were fighting two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Chinese have bought all the minerals in Africa. They own Africa just like the Europeans owned it in the last century. This is the new form of colonialism, so has anything really changed? It just seems a new master is all.

Finally, I am in Harare, dog-tired, yet I still have customs. The people are very nice, but the process is clumsy at best. I stood in three lines for over an hour while one man in one booth processed about 60 people. I arrived with a temporary work permit, my passport, my contract with the Festival, and proof of my ticket out of the country – all required to enter the country. They never asked for any of it. They only wanted my 45-dollar fee for my visa. Oh well.

Robert Mugabe International Airport, Harare

I finally got through and met Gavin Peter, the festival director. We have spoken for months by email and Facebook, but to finally meet him in person was great. A big, friendly, gregarious man who drove me through Harare to the home of my hosts for the next week, Keith and Jeannette ——. Keith is the chairman of the board of the NIAA, who sponsors the festival.

A quick shower and a brief nap. I was so knackered, but I got up to be on Zim time. It was about 4 PM, so they showed me around their property. Many of the homes in the suburbs consisted of large to moderate homes on large tracts of land (2 to 3 acres) surrounded by high walls and fences. Their garden is amazing with so many beautiful plants and flowers that blaze with color even in winter. Then a pleasant evening in their lovely home with a fire (it is winter here), dinner, and a bottle of wine. What a very lovely introduction to this interesting country, and what promises to be a very life-changing adventure.

Keith & Jeannette’s Home in Harare, Zimbabwe

Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Day 4
It was Saturday, and Keith took me to see my first cricket match. We drove around downtown Harare on the way to the cricket stadium. The Brits laid out this city in a beautiful way. Wide streets and a partial grid make it somewhat easy to get around.

Keith and Jeannette’s pool area

The constant jaywalking and almost non-existent traffic laws take a little getting used to. I forget that Americans have some of the most rigid traffic laws in the world. Here it is a complete mess with everyone going everywhere at once, but it seems to work somehow. Driving here for the newcomer would be extremely overwhelming. I have not had to make that choice yet, as everyone has been so kind to take me where I need to go, or I am within walking distance from shopping areas. http://wikitravel.org/en/Harare

We got to the stadium to watch Zimbabwe’s national team play South Africa in a Pan-African Cricket tournament. I knew something of the game but not enough to describe anything to anyone. WOW. I love cricket. We were watching a type called Twenty/20 cricket as opposed to Fifty/50 or One Day cricket, which takes all day, or the 5-day classic Test match cricket. Can you imagine watching a 5-day match of the same two teams playing the same game for 5 days and still maybe ending in a tie? My head would explode, but people here are totally into it.

I cannot explain the game here in just a few words because it is as complex as baseball in the record-keeping and strategic moves. Yet once you get the basics down, it is a really fun and exciting game to cheer for. Zim lost, but due to a tournament rule, they somehow got into the finals.

We were in private boxes enjoying the game. Like watching football in a luxury box – only way to watch a sport, really! I was taken to two other boxes as I continued to meet the sponsors of the drama festival here in Zim. I am a bit of a local celebrity or curiosity since I have come all this way to do the festival on my own dime. Some appreciate it, some are worried that I will bring an American influence to a festival that is 100 years old next year, and some are worried that I will underestimate Zim’s education system. It is strange to be an American on the ground in a small country. They respect us and dislike us in equal measure. They know more about our country and elections than we do because we are such a huge influence in the world that what we do affects them as much as ourselves. I cannot tell you how many conversations I have had about how they see the Obama/Romney contest.

Our hero watching his first cricket match

It is like we are the Mafia Don at the end of the street protecting his neighborhood. We can provide protection and benefits to the local street, but it comes at a really big price. And even when we do nothing, it affects them. They have taken the Chinese money because of all the international sanctions that were leveled at President Mugabe because of his Land Reform measures where his government seized white-owned farms and gave them to native Zimbabweans.

The sanctions are against him and his government personally, but the effect trickles down to all the businesses and people here. Whether the sanctions were right or not, they are one reason that the Zim economy is a disaster. They did not affect the leaders; they affected the everyday person, destroying jobs, pensions, and savings. While we were fighting two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Chinese quietly came into Africa, and Zimbabwe in particular, and have bought all the mineral rights. So Zimbabwe has taken all that the Chinese will give them, because they were getting very little now from the US and Europe.

The final score to the cricket match was 129 to 126. I can kind of explain the scoring if you are interested at some other time, but I can tell you it was a nail biter right down to the last over. Yes, I said Over. It is like an inning/turn/bat in baseball but shorter.

Then I went to over to Gavin’s house for a really quick dinner and off to the local theatre called Reps. Not professional, it is more like a community theatre. Reps Theatre is a private non-profit enterprise with two theatres, one large and one small and an excellent pub bar that is open all during the show. I saw part of the Norman Conquest trilogy. It was ok. Couple of really good actors, but felt like an actor’s showcase in LA.

Back to my new temporary home and to bed. Tomorrow, I am going on SAFARI.

Cheers

https://linktr.ee/jamesrcarey – LinkTree Site

http://www.jamesrcarey.com – Personal Site

https://pro.imdb.com/name/nm2230605 – Professional Site

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9C0KPdL3tN1Q00FIz_m-zQ – My Film Page

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Photos and Opinions solely the opinions of the author.

Life Changing African Adventure: Judge at National Drama Festival in Zimbabwe

THIS IS A REPRINT OF A STORY FROM OCTOBER 2016. START OF A NEW SERIES CALLED AFRICAN ADVENTURES.

National Flag and Symbol of Zimbabwe

THE START

In 2012, I accepted an offer to take a temporary job in Africa. At the time I did not know that this opportunity would quite literally change the entire fabric of my life. This trip would be so much more than just an adventure but in fact would be an overwhelming experience that would lead me to change the entire direction and focus of my life.

In 2011, my life was kind of falling apart. A three-year relationship with a woman who I loved very much had ended. I was still reeling from the aftermath of the world-wide economic downtown that had closed my real estate investment business and was forcing my house toward foreclosure. To cover the expenses of running my suddenly upside-down house, I was renting out every extra bedroom that I had to college students who went to school at the close-by University of Southern California. My only other income at the time was running a small non-profit theatre where I served as Producing Artistic Director. Theatre is one of the great passions of my life, but after 25 years leading a small non-profit arts group, I was exhausted and burned out.

I desperately needed a break, or as one friend put it best – “I needed an escape from my own life”. Yet, there was no lifeline nor escape. As my house edged ever closer to foreclosure, my despair grew, and my options were shrinking fast. It was at that moment that one morning an email arrived in my inbox. It was an email that I had been expecting, but I was not really sure how I felt about it. I had been communicating about a possible gig job with an arts group in Zimbabwe. One of my former theatre students when I taught at Pepperdine University in Malibu, CA., was from Zimbabwe, and her mother was a volunteer administrator for this organization. My former student had put us together and on a lark, I had applied to work for them.

Harare, Zimbabwe – Capitol city of Zimbabwe

THE JOB

The job was to be the Judge or Adjudicator for a national drama festival that takes place in Zimbabwe every year. The drama festival was part of an even larger series of arts festivals run by a group known as the National Institute of Allied Arts. The National Institute of Allied Arts is a 100-year-old volunteer organization founded by the British colonials to instill public speaking, drama, music, literature and visual arts into the white children of Zimbabwe. But over time and with the change of governments and Zimbabwe getting its freedom in 1980, the organization become one of the first to open its doors to all the children of Zim. Every year about 30 thousand+ children take part in 4 festivals a year in music, visual arts, literature and drama.

If hired I would be the first American to adjudicate their national drama festival. The job would take about 2 to 3 weeks and the adjudicator would see about 15000 children perform in various theatre and public speaking categories. The job paid a small salary and promised all living expenses would be covered. The catch was the adjudicator had to figure out a way to get to Zimbabwe and pay for it themselves. But who ever came as a reward, they would be given a two-week tour around Zimbabwe. They would see places with names that I had never heard but would soon become very familiar with in the coming weeks and years. Places like Harare, the capital city, Kwekwe, Gweru, Great Zim, Matopos National Park, Vic Falls, Bulawayo, and so many more.

The email offered me the job and seeing this as the escape that I needed and desperately wanted, I quickly said yes. The Festival would be in June and so the plans began in earnest. Being broke and not having the money to pay for the trip, I lied and told them I did. I swiftly started a campaign to raise the money. I wrote a small grant through my theatre, held a garage sale, and ran a Kickstarter fundraising campaign. Plus I also got 500 dollars from the US Embassy in Zimbabwe, but more on that later. In a matter of 3 weeks, I raised the 1500 dollars needed for the flight.

Zimbabwe here I come!!!

With the help of another friend, I managed to get a small guest teaching job in Rome, Italy for a week on the way back from Zimbabwe. I would spend a week there and then have two weeks of traveling very cheaply in Europe. Upon my return to the US, I would still be broke but maybe not in despair anymore.

LAX in Los Angeles

Wednesday, June 13, 2012, Los Angeles
Still I leave in 4 days. The rush to get everything done. What to pack? How much is too much or too little? The excitement! The fear! Of flying and being away for over two months! The voice of my doctor in my head. Don’t eat that, don’t drink that, wash all your food yourself, sanitize everything, don’t touch anything – really? People live there, what do they do? I am sure that every person who goes out to dinner in a large city in Africa does not ask to wash the vegetables. Next he would have told me not to breathe the air just to be on the safe side.

There are certainly concerns about health issues, I get that. Drink bottled water, be careful what you eat, be observant of the things around you. But if we are all that cautious, we would never leave our home. As Ben Franklin said – “all things in moderation.” I find that to still be one of the best pieces of advice every given. Try everything, do everything – just be reasonable about it.

I rented my own personal room out at my house. So even if I want to come back – I have to sleep on the couch. So, I might as well just stay overseas, right.
I am packing for two different hemispheres, and it is crazy. Winter in one place – seems mild in Zimbabwe. Pleasant days, chilly nights. It will be blazing hot in Rome in mid-July. You need to bring enough, but you want to travel light. Ahh, adventures in packing. And of course, it never fails no matter how organized you are when you are somewhere over the Atlantic, you remember that “most important” item aside from your passport that you left behind.
I leave in 4 days. The adventure begins. Whether I am ready or not. The plane leaves in 4 days. I am on it!!

“A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.” – John Steinbeck

Delayed passengers inside Terminal 7 at Los Angeles International Airport line up to go through TSA security check following a false alarm event in Los Angeles, California U.S August 28, 2016. REUTERS/Bob Riha Jr

Monday, June 18, 2012, DAY 0. Los Angeles.

I take off in 3 hours. After 8 months of work and luck and reaching out, it is about to happen. I take a red eye to DC. to meet my plane to Addis Abeba, Ethiopia. Than on from there to Harare. There are no words to describe how I feel at the moment. Excitement, fear, apprehension, joy all mixed up together. Here is praying for a safe journey to Harare. If you have good thoughts, please send them along.

My way to Zimbabwe – Ethiopian Airlines

“The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land.” – G. K. Chesterton ]

Next update from DC on Day 1. Cheers –

How I Survived the Road of Death in Zimbabwe

A Zimbabwean Adventure

What is the Road of Death? It was a stretch of highway that went from the city center of Harare to an upscale suburb called Borrowdale.

In 2013, I returned to Zimbabwe for the second time for a couple of reasons. First, I had been invited to present the world premiere of my one man show, Coming to Zimbabwe at the Harare International Festival of Arts (HIFA), and secondly, to help create a rural teaching program for drama with the National Institute of Allied Arts, Drama Division whose artistic director was Gavin Peter.

Gavin had hired me in 2012 to come to Zimbabwe and be the first American judge or adjudicator of their national drama contest. The month that I spent in Zimbabwe during 2012 was a life changing experience. The opportunity to work with almost 8000 kids over a three-week period had been exhausting but also exhilarating as I watched these talented African kids do monologues and scene work, recite poetry, do improvs and work in many other performance styles. Plus, the two-week tour that NIAA sponsored for me to travel around the country to different historical sites in the company of the Republic of Ireland’s representative, Gary Killilea and his family was a joy and wonder, and helped cement Zimbabwe is one of my favorite places in the world. The beauty of the country and the hospitality of the people was unmatched, and I had resolved to return as many times as I could.

The chance to return came very quickly for me. As the adjudicator of the drama festival, I watched as the dedicated volunteers of NIAA kept meticulous records over where students came from and in what performance categories they had participated. Some students would only be in one area while others might be in 9 to 11 different areas of competition. At the debriefing at the end of the festival and working with Gavin, we managed to streamline some of the requirements for the participants and the number of areas they could participate in. We also found out that the students from the cities mostly focused on drama presentations while the students from the rural or country areas focused on poetry. Now Zimbabwe is mostly an agricultural country so that made sense, but this was primarily a drama festival and if most of the students in the rural areas were participating in poetry that meant there was a disconnect somewhere in the education system.

Zimbabwe had become a poor country over the 40-year reign by their former dictator Robert Mugabe, and one of the fallouts of his terrible economic policies was that teachers in the countryside hardly made any money whatsoever. It was hard to retain teachers who taught English and drama although it was required as part of their education requirements to graduate. We found in our research that the rural teachers who were instructing the drama students were science and math teachers, or physical education teachers or soccer coaches. Well-meaning individuals who had no idea what they were supposed to do for the festival, but they had been ordered by their principal to get the kids ready. These poor individuals having no knowledge of what the contest required just did what the teacher of the year before had done which was recite poetry.

So, Gavin and I came up with an idea of creating a training program for the teachers in the countryside to help them understand what dramatic literature was, where to find it, how to direct a play or a scene and best practices in terms of how to get their students motivated. During the year while I was back in the United States, I also recruited other Americans to come and work in Zimbabwe with NIAA to help move the program forward.

Yet when it came to providing me with air flight back to Zimbabwe, they just did not have the money. Gavin concocted an unusual solution. That year, he was also the Artistic Director of HIFA and said if I could come with a show, he would ensure I got a superior performance slot. The idea of a one-man show based on my experiences in Zimbabwe had been floating around my head for about six or more months and now I put it down on paper. I workshopped it a few times at my theater in Los Angeles, the Attic Theater and knew I had a good show. Because Zimbabwe was a dictatorship, I had to send the script to a government office there to make sure it was not offensive in any way to Zimbabwe or President Robert Mugabe. To their astonishment there was an American who was writing wonderful things about their country and proclaiming it a wonderful place to visit. Gavin true to his word gave me a wonderful time slot and the show sold out before I even got on the plane to go to Zimbabwe, and extra performances were added. It was that money that allowed me to buy a round trip ticket to Zimbabwe.

So, that is how I got to Zimbabwe, but the title of this article is ‘I Survived the Road of Death.’ What is the Road of Death? It was a stretch of highway that went from the city center of Harare to an upscale suburb called Borrowdale. This road was a four-lane highway and was one of the major thoroughfares in the city. It also ran right by the Presidential Palace. In fact, you could spit out the car window as you went past and hit the building. It was that close. Following an attack on Mugabe’s residence in 1982, a 6pm curfew was introduced to prevent any traffic passing in front of the Palace. This curfew was in place from 1982 till 2017. During this time, if you traveled down that road after 6:00 PM you could be shot in the head by one of the army soldiers that patrolled that area of the highway, and that is why it was called the Road of Death. Now the Presidential Palace by 2013 was only used for ceremonial reasons and President Robert Mugabe had a huge house/complex on the outskirts of the city where he lived. Yet, the standing law was that at 6:00 PM every evening this four-lane road would be blocked off next to the presidential palace until 6 AM in the morning. If you were trying to drive to Borrowdale from downtown or vice versa you had to find an alternative route because there were soldiers with rifles everywhere. In fact, there was an army barracks right across the street from the Palace where the security guards lived.

After I completed the successful run of my one-man show, it was going to be about 10 days before Gavin could meet with me to discuss this educational tour that was being sent out into the rural areas. While I had friends in Harare, they could not constantly keep me entertained and I had no transportation, so I was often stuck in a hotel room or in a guest room of some kind person who let me share their house. After about a week of this I was bored, so I rented a car and drove up into the Nyangani Mountain area near the Mozambique border to stay at a little inn for three or four days and explore that part of Zimbabwe. That is a whole different adventure, but I had rented the car for several days. When I arrived back in the capital city, I was invited to a social function at the house of my good friends, Keith and Jeanette Nicholson who had kind enough to be my hosts for the first two weeks that I was in in Zimbabwe during 2012.

Harare is an exceedingly difficult city in which to travel during the night. The reason for that is there are almost no street signs or working streetlights, because they have been stripped of all their copper wiring. Why is that you ask? Because the economy is in ruins, and no one has any work. So, some people steal what they can steal just to be able to put food on the table. So, I had to be careful in plotting my route to the Nicholson’s home is Borrowdale to avoid the Road of Death. I found an old map of Harare and laid out a route that I felt confident would avoid the Palace. At 6:30 PM, I walked out to my car and started driving towards the Nicholsons. It was winter and already dark. As I got close to where I was going to turn left and head out towards Borrowdale, I recognized that I was right next to the presidential palace and about to turn on to the Road of Death.

From my car, I could see a large blockade and there were armed guards everywhere. I freaked out. There were two lanes of traffic to my right which were turning toward the city center, but it was rush hour and there was no room for me to cut in. If I turned left, I was sure I would be shot. I was terrified. The only other direction I could go in was straight so that is what I did.

I drove straight and ended up in the parking lot of the army barracks that protect the presidential palace. It was extremely dark, so it was impossible to read my map. Being the only white man in a parking lot full of black soldiers with rifles made me feel very uneasy. No one bothered me or even said anything to me, but they gave me strange enough looks that I knew I was not supposed to be there, nor was I welcome. I quickly called Keith and explained the situation. I must have seemed a little hysterical because he told me to calm down and gave me explicit instructions about how to get around the presidential palace and follow a road that would lead me toward Borrowdale. Following the explicit instructions of my hosts I drove around the presidential palace and ended up approaching the Borrowdale highway. At this point I was supposed to turn left and go towards the suburbs, however I mistakenly turned right and headed back towards the Presidential Palace.

I went about half a mile when I realized that the street in front of me was blockaded and that I was back at the Palace. I was so rattled by now that I did a quick U-turn in the middle of the highway, hit the gas, and bolted down the street. The entire time I was driving I thought a sharpshooter was going to blow off the back of my head. I was sure because I was the only car on the highway that I was breaking some law and that the entire Zimbabwean Defense Force was following me. Every tank, every Jeep, every helicopter, and every soldier was hot on my tail, and I was going to end up either dead or in a Zimbabwean jail which would be the same thing.

I quickly saw a road off to the right and with screeching tires I made the turn. I found myself in a housing development. I took the next right and the next left and I parked in the first driveway I could find. Turning off my lights, I crouched down in my seat hoping that they could not find me. I quickly called Keith and tried to explain the situation to them. Just as I began talking to him there was a knock on my window, and I turned to find a Zimbabwean soldier with a rifle standing next to my car.

I exclaimed to Keith, “Oh my God, they found me already.” I told him to stay on the phone and put my cell phone down on the car seat and rolled down the window. I immediately started babbling to the soldier trying to explain why I had turned around and driven away from the Palace. I gave him my passport, my international driver’s license, my work visa, the contract that said I was there to work with NIAA and all the official paperwork that I had to carry around with me all the time. He took each document and looked them over. I just kept babbling the entire time telling him I was sorry. I made a mistake, and please do not arrest me. That I was an American citizen and at least give me a chance to call the embassy. On and on and on until finally he had all my documents and I had nothing left to say. I just knew he was going to shoot me now. The waiting felt like an eternity.

He quietly handed me all my documents back and just looked at me for a moment, then he asked me, “Do you have a smoke?”

“What!?” I asked?

And just like any American tourist who has gone to a foreign country and do not speak the language, the cliche is that we always talk slow and loud as if that is going to make someone understand, he did the exact same thing to me. In a very loud voice speaking very slowly, he went, “Do you have a cigarette?”

“No, I don’t smoke,” I stated

“Ok,” he said, then turned and walked down the driveway headed towards the main road. It was then that I realized there were no jeeps back there. There were no tanks, there were no helicopters, there was no one. No one had followed me. This lone soldier was walking to the Palace to go to work. Most soldiers are so poor they cannot afford a car. Here was an immaculately dressed soldier carrying his automatic weapon walking through the neighborhood to the main road, and then he was going to walk the mile or so to the presidential palace to check in. And the whole time that this was dawning on me that this had just been a strange confluence of my fear and the weirdest of circumstances, loud laughter poured from the cell phone on the seat next to me. Keith thought this was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

Now red faced with embarrassment, I picked up the phone and told him that everything was ok, and I would be there in 10 minutes. Keith repeated one more time how I was to get there, and I followed his instructions to the letter. I arrived at their house where there was a big wine celebration going on and of course all the Zimbos laughed at me because they thought it was very funny that the American who traveled around the world got lost and scared driving around the Presidential Palace.

Well, the joke was on me. I took the good-natured ribbing for the rest of the night, had three or four glasses of wine to calm down and so that I would not get lost or die on my way back home my friends were kind enough to let me crash in their guest room.

And that is how I survived the Road of Death in Harare, Zimbabwe.

Below are photos from the NIAA school tour that we took after this adventure happened. Shots of myself and good friend Musa Saruro teaching improv and acting technique in and around Bulawayo 2013.

All opinions expressed are the personal opinions of the author. Tripswithjames.com is a copyright of Carey On Creative, LLC. 2023. Atlanta, GA.

Love Letter to Zim (Zimbabwe)

Definition of Terms:
Zim – Nickname for the country of Zimbabwe.

Zimbo (s) – people born and raised in Zimbabwe. Currently living there or abroad are always Zimbos in their heart.

Eish – an all-purpose expression by Zimbos to signify amazement, frustration, excitement, or acceptance of something they cannot change.

Last night in the capital city of Harare, Zimbabwe around 4 AM in the morning, the military forces of the country removed the 93-year-old dictator who had ruled for over 41 years and showed him the door. Bloodlessly, I might add so far. Presently, he is under house arrest in his 26-bedroom mansion awaiting his fate.

Zimababwe’s President Robert Mugabe in 2000 (AP Photo/Christine Nesbitt)

The dictator is Robert Mugabe, also known to his fellow Zimbos as “Uncle Bob”. For most Zimbos, that is not a term of endearment, but a name that symbolized that unwanted family member who is always there, stealing your food or DVD’s or extra cash from your wallet, never returning anything he borrowed, and constantly threatening your kids to behavior and respect him. In other words, the uncle who is a total jackass! Only difference with “Uncle Bob” is that he did all these things at gunpoint. Robert Mugabe was a ruthless, brutal man who was highly educated and very intelligent that managed through intimidation and murder to hang on to power for four decades.

This morning Zimbos around the world woke up with a collective “Eish”, as people did not know what to think or whether to believe the news that they were hearing. Even at this moment on the ground in Zim, the news about what is going on is guarded and sketchy.

For those of you who do not know, Zimbabwe is located in the south-eastern part of Africa just above the country of South Africa. At one time it was one of the richest of all African countries, but after 40 years of “Uncle Bob” it is now one of the poorest with a broken economy, almost worthless money, and raging unemployment.

It is also one of the most beautiful, friendly, and hopeful places on the planet Earth. That is why I am writing this love letter to Zim and my fellow Zimbos. No, I was not raised there, but I have come to think of Zim as my second home. During 2012 to 2015, I lived and worked in Harare and all around Zim for a total of about 6 months. I traveled to all corners of the country and came to love its beautiful rivers, warm climate, lush forests, open savannahs with endless skies that make Montana’s Big Sky Country look small in comparison, dark evening skies filled with stars and its friendly, welcoming people.

I first went to Zim to work with a local arts NGO known as NIAA as a judge for their national drama festival. The next two years, I worked with them to develop an education program for rural teachers. The final year that I was there, I directed and co-produced a play for the country’s leading theatre organization, Reps Theatre in Harare. I also debuted a one-man show there and toured it around Zim and South Africa. My local Zim friends began to call me “an honorary Zimbo” for my obvious affection for their country and culture. Whether that was a joke or not, I took it as a serious compliment. So much so that I almost sold my home in Los Angeles and moved there full time to work as a theatre artist and teacher.

Why didn’t I move there if I love it so much? Well, I have to admit I am a product of my country, the USA. I like to be able to turn on a light and have it work every time. I like being able to drink the water from my tap. I like to be able to know that my money is worth something and it will always be that way. I like being able to openly complain about the idiot who is currently running my country without getting locked up. Zimbos could not do that. You always had to watch what you said in public and to whom. Eish!

Yet, every morning people all over Zim woke up not knowing if anything worked or what the government would take from them that day. Bob beat them down for 40 years, but what I remember was a people who were endlessly cheerful and hopeful. That is all they had to hang onto. Hope that one day it would get better. One day Uncle Bob would finally leave. And there would the opportunity to have things be better again. HOPE.

But now after 40 years of turmoil and oppression and diminishing returns, he may be gone. Cannot say so yet, because Uncle Bob is a tricky guy with a lot of resources. Yet, there may be some hope for Zim yet. A chance to start over and realize the potential that these amazing people have and return their country to at least part of its former glory.

Zimbabwe is home of one of the oldest civilizations in sub-Saharan Africa. When the Portuguese found the Zimbos’ (known as the Shona) capital city (Great Zimbabwe) during the 1500’s, that city was already over 800 years old. There is a lot of history, a lot of pride and a lot of determination in Zim. Hopefully, they will get a government that they truly deserve, and it will allow them to flourish.

As they say in Zim when things need to get done, “Let’s make a plan.” Hopefully, there are a lot of Zimbos making plans right now for a brighter future.

Tom Cruise of KweKwe – Zimbabwe 2012

(This is part of an ongoing series of stories about the first visit I ever had to Zimbabwe or Africa in general. All the stories are true and based on my own experiences. They are also part of my one-man theatre production, Coming to Zimbabwe which was published in Germany, and has toured the USA and parts of Africa.)

After my day in Imire Game Preserve, this was the first day of my new job. (You can find the story Imire Safari Ranch – Zimbabwe 2012 in the monthly section menu) I woke up the next morning and met Gavin. We loaded into his incredible small car and we headed out toward the small city of Gweru located in the Midlands section of Zimbabwe. This drive should have taken about 3 hours but the engine was so small and tired in Gavin’s car, we were in for a 5 hour ride.

We headed out of Harare on the A5 Highway or Gweru-Harare Road. This was really the first time that I was going to see the real countryside of Zimbabwe. Of course on my journey to Imire, I had seen country. But that was in such a rush and I was so on edge from Kathy’s driving, that I did not pay much attention to the scenery.

Now because the slow nature of our drive through the mountains toward Gweru, I could very much see the lovely country, yet I could also see that field after field and farm after farm nothing was growing. There were no crops in the fields that I passed on this major road through the heartland of Zimbabwe.

Whether is was the outcome of Mugabe’s land reforms or for some other reason, it was plain to see that this part of the economy was hurting. Zimbabwe during the Ian Smith years, during the civil war for independence, and even during Mugabe’s first years in power, was known as “the bread basket of Africa”. The farms were so successful and abundant and Zimbabwe grew so much food that it exported it surplus food stuffs to countries all around Africa. Now they had to import food items just to be able to eat.

As we drove south, we passed through the village of Chegutu and the small city of Kadoma. We drove through beautiful mountain areas, over rivers and across savannas where the sky seem to stretch on forever. After driving for a couple of hours, we stopped in Kwekwe to stretch our legs and get some coffee.

Kwekwe is a city of about 100,000 people located right in the center of the country. At one time, it was a very lovely little town, but it is very poor there now. Unemployment in the area is about 80% or more. The town has become very dusty and dirty, the gutters are filled with trash and there are 100’s of men standing around with no work and nothing really to do. As we pulled into the town and went around the roundabout, I was wondering where we were going to stop. We passed the beautiful but very tiny Mosque on the right as we enter Kwekwe. About 3 blocks passed that on the same side of the road, we stopped in front of this seemingly brand new building made of chrome and glass. It was like an illusion in the middle of this rundown town. The place was buzzing as people came and went from the double glass doors.

As we walked inside, Gavin told me the place was called Ripperz and that is was a fairly new place. The place seemed to be a combination of a restaurant, bakery and food market. Gavin and I walked in and went over to a coffee bar. And to be honest, I was surprised at the thought of a coffee bar in a rundown city in the middle of a 3rd world country. As I was to learn my first world impressions of Zimbabwe were going to be radically altered in the next month in this surprising and lovely country.

As I sat down at the bar, I realized that I was the only white in the place. For just a moment, I experienced a momentary disquieting feeling that I was truly alone in this country. I did not know one person in Zimbabwe or this part of Africa. Further, that I was truly a minority in this country. You can read tons of information about a place and hope you understand it on an intellectual level, but the feelings that you get on the ground in a place are what truly define your experience and attitudes. Not that I was in fear for my safety because of my race; on the contrary, everyone so far in Zim had been very friendly and helpful. Yet, at that moment, I realized how different I was from anyone in the room. I had only experienced that feeling once before while standing at a bar in a nightclub in Mazatlan, Mexico trying to get a drink, and not even the bartender would speak to me because I was the only Angelo there. Both of these moments were profound for me, and reminded me that I was “the stranger in a strange land.” That I had so much to learn about this country, her people and her culture, and that was on me to do. So many times as I have traveled in the world, I have found Americans who are visiting a place and act like it is still the United States. They forget that they are visiting a new place, yet they expect the people there to treat them like they are still in the US. As the visitor, you are the one that needs to adapt to the new place, because the new place is not going to adapt to you. And that has always been my guiding principle when traveling. As Mark Twain once said, “…traveling doesn’t lead to a new destination, but to a new way of seeing things.”

After ordering our coffee, one of the two white owners came from the back and walk over to us. He was from Canada and had settled in Kwekwe to work the farm that his family had owned there. They later had lost it to the Mugabe land reforms which consisted of the government taking legally owned land away from the professional white farmers and giving it to black citizens of the country. Many of whom did not know how to farm or did not want to work that hard or were not capable of running those large farming concerns, so the farms began to fail in record numbers and the food production bottomed out for Zimbabwe.

Zimababwe’s President Robert Mugabe chants Zanu PF slogans with supporters gathered at the Harare International Conference Centre in Harare, Wednesday May 3, 2000. Mugabe launched the Zanu PF’s election manifesto which bears the slogan “Land is the Economy and the Economy is Land”. (AP Photo/Christine Nesbitt)

Now please do not take this that I disapprove of the idea of the original people of a country that had been colonized by white Europeans getting their own country back. But to remove at gun point and in several cases by death at the hands of gangs of Mugabe thugs, farmers who had worked that land for at least 3 to 4 generations, who provided jobs and about one quarter of Zim’s GNP seems wrong on any scale. Plus the farmers did not do themselves any favors when they made the mistake of thinking that Mugabe was running a democracy. They provided funding to the rural party (MDC) in government elections against Mugabe’s ZANU-PF and thus provoked Mugabe to actions against them. This whole misadventure that resulted in poor food production, lost jobs, ruined communities and families, and in many cases death could have been done better and gotten the same results without the ruin and bloodshed. Mugabe took an ax to a situation that needed delicacy and the resulting decline in food production and lost economy is proof of its failure.

Marquee with my play, Coming to Zimbabwe, Harare.

We are soon joined by his partner, who was from Greece (I believe). In my play, the second owner is from Greece but to be honest I do not remember where he was from. The following conversation is what truly happened at the moment of introduction:

Gavin – (to the Greek owner) “This is James from Hollywood, CA.”

Owner – (to me) “You are from Hollywood?”

Me – “Yes, I am.”

Owner – “Do you know any famous people?”

Me – “Yes, I know some famous people.”

Owner – “Do you know Tom Cruise?”

Me – “No, I don’t know Tom Cruise.”

Owner – “You don’t know Tom Cruise?”

Me – “No I don’t. Never had the pleasure.”

Owner – “I love Tom Cruise. I have seen all of his movies. Risky Business, Top Gun, Rain Man…” (at this point the Greek owner continued to name several more Tom Cruise movies and talked about how much he liked the movies and Tom Cruise himself.)

I should also point out at during this entire time, the owner never asked why an American was sitting in his store, what I was doing or how I liked Zimbabwe. It was Tom Cruise 24/7 with this guy, or so it seemed. Gavin realized that the conversation was going south and asked for “take away” coffee for us, and it was provided. We left and had a good long laugh about Tom Cruise and the Greek owner.

Yet, two days later, as we returned toward Harare, we stopped again at Ripperz for coffee. As I walked through the front door, the Greek owner who was working the front counter greeted me with, “Hey, Tom Cruise.”

I would go through Kwekwe about 8 to 10 more times over the next 4 weeks as I traveled around with Gavin or Gary, the Irish consulate and his family as they took me around Zimbabwe to places like Great Zimbabwe, Victoria Falls, and Matopos National Park. I would often stop in Kwekwe as a mid-point for several of these journeys, and every time I would eat and shop at Ripperz. And every time I walked through the door, the Greek owner would greet me as “Hey, Tom Cruise.”

Reps Theatre, Harare. Where my play debuted 2012.

Now in my one man show, I make this part of the story a comedy high point of the show and enlarge the number of people who began to call me Tom Cruise including great numbers of people on the street. Yet in truth by my third visit, a couple of employees started to refer to me as Tom Cruise. I was also greeted one day as I walked down the main street in Kwekwe with Gary’s son to the local internet cafe by a perfect African stranger, someone that I had never seen before as… “Oh you are the Tom Cruise guy.”

So that is my 15 minutes of African fame being called “Tom Cruise” in a small city in the middle of Zimbabwe – Kwekwe. For a month, I was known as Tom Cruise of Kwekwe.

The Open Road – Guest Blog – Zimbabwe

The Open Road by Melanie Mostert

(shared courtesy of Mel Mostert at Vayeni. com. The original blog can be found at this address – http://www.vayeni.com/blog/. The article is about Norma Jeane’s Lakeview Resort in Masvingo (Great Zimbabwe) near Lake Mutirikwe located in south-eastern Zimbabwe.

When you travel a new silence goes with you and if you listen, you will hear what your heart would love to say.” – John O’Donohue

This quote perfectly summarises the feeling I have on a road trip. There is something about driving to a destination that allows you the time to disconnect fully and gradually have the environment you’re going into to wash over you. That and allowing your body the time to adjust to the change in temperature.

This past week, I had the opportunity to travel to Great Zimbabwe. It IS October and, therefore, hot (!!!!) and dry. There is beauty in every aspect of this land even when she is dry and barren, the promise of tomorrow’s greenery is just below the surface. Although there were security checkpoints en route the police officers were friendly and actually provided humorous relief on the 4-hour drive to Masvingo.

A pitstop in Masvingo reminded us all that we were famished and as this was an adventure, we stepped into a local establishment to try out authentic Zimbabwean fare (sadza and chicken) and walk through their town square which is decorated with antique tractors and train engines.

The drive into Norma Jeane’s was a welcome relief simply because she presents herself as an oasis with lush green lawns and abundant flowers. Being gorgeous in her simplicity and unpretentiousness, this was a delightful beacon at the end of the road.

After a quick freshen up, I braced myself for the tour of Great Zimbabwe Ruins. The time of day, I believe was perfect, 4.30ish – sunset over the ruins what more could you ask for? The climb was quite arduous. The view from the top of the King’s Kraal breathtaking! I was struck by the ingenuity and industriousness of the people that constructed this city. The sun began to set and I stood (for a moment taking on the mantle of royalty) as I survey this kingdom of year’s gone.

On our return, to Norma Jeane’s a welcome and refreshing shower which I very quickly followed up with a sumptuous dinner. The almost full moon shone down on the path as I walked back to my lodge. A magical ending to this day.

Mel Mostert was born in Zimbabwe and raised on a cotton farm in Shamva until she was 8 years old. She immigrated to Switzerland where she primary schooled and returned to Zimbabwe as a teenager. Prior to leaving Switzerland, Mel and her family traveled the entire country. Upon returning to Zimbabwe, they embarked on the same kind of trip to re-familiarize themselves with their country. It was these adventures that gave birth to her wanderlust and also her passion for her country.

Mel has worked in and around the tourism industry since she was 20 years old. She joins the Vayeni team fresh from being Reservations Manager, Camp Hostess for VIP groups and Temporary Camp Manager at a luxury safari camp on Lake Kariba. She continues to still have the same enthusiasm and love for Zimbabwe and the region as she always has had.

Imire Safari Ranch – Zimbabwe 2012

IMIRE – First Safari – ZIMBABWE 2012

(Taken from the original post at http://jamesrcarey.blogspot.com/2012/07/sunday-june-24-day-5-imire-game.html)

As I told you in my previous post, I was going on a safari. What is a safari? Well, the origin of the word in Arabic meaning “to travel” and the word has come to mean “an expedition to observe or hunt animals in their natural habitat.” And the game preserve that we were going to was pretty tame, but this is not Disneyland where there is almost no danger. What we were going to watch were real animals – in the wild – and while they were pretty used to humans and having interaction with humans, they were still wild elephants, rhinos, lions and other animals.

Got up early and had breakfast around 6:30 in order to meet Kathy Norman, a volunteer with NIAA. Kathy has played a huge part in my trip by arranging all parts of my travels and workshops. Kathy had volunteered to take me to Imire Safari Ranch about an hour and half outside of Harare on the Mutare Road. That is pretty brave to volunteer to spend your entire day with a perfect stranger.

So we jumped in the 4 wheel drive and drove like bats from hell to try to get there by 8 AM so I could enjoy an elephant ride. The elephant ride was scheduled for 7 AM so I had missed it. I was disappointed because this is the one thing that I really wanted to do – ride an elephant – but there was so much else to see that it was quickly forgotten.

So we missed the elephant ride, but upon arrival we had a light breakfast at the Sable Lodge which is also a small hotel in the Park. We met the owner of the preserve, Kate Travers. I talked to her about Imire and her life there. Turns out the preserve has been in her family for 3 generations. They had lost part of the farm to the Mugabe land reforms, but had managed to hang on to the preserve. She came back to Zimbabwe after a very successful career in London and Europe as a Chef with her partner, Chris. They gave that lifestyle up to return back to her home and run the park and lodge for the family. Plus Imire is not only a game park to see animals in a less controlled setting, but is also a game preserve where they try to protect endangered animals especially the Black Rhino. The Preserve specializes in trying to save Black Rhinos.

Imire is like a smaller, more real version of San Diego Zoo Safari Park. After the breakfast, we climbed on to a wooden wagon for a tractor ride through the park. Pretty low tech, but perfect for watching the animals as they are free to wander in the bush. Yet, they also know that everyday around a certain time they will get a meal, so they do not usually wander too far.

The first animal that we met was a fairly friendly female giraffe that came out to greet the guests for treats. She does a bunch of tricks for the crowd including a very funny bit where to get food off the ground, she throws her front legs out in a wide V shape so she is able to bend down close enough to the ground. It is a very funny sight.

The picture above is of me standing in front of a giant ant hill. And that was not the biggest one I saw! To think how long the ants worked to build a structure this big just amazes me.

BLACK RHINOS

The story of the Travers family and Imire goes something like this. In 1972, Norman Travers, the grandfather pioneered the integration of cattle ranching and commercial farming with wildlife management at Imire in the south-east province of Zimbabwe. Imire soon provided a nucleus for various breeding herds in a safe and ideal wildlife environment. Norman’s dream was fulfilled and over the years, he had been recognized for his vast knowledge and contribution towards conservation. But the highlight of Norman’s contribution to the wildlife of Zimbabwe was in 1987, when he became the privileged custodian of seven orphaned baby black rhino.

Black Rhinoceroses have been on this earth for 40 million years. So numerous were they in the Zambezi Valley at one time, and so magnificent was the valley itself, that the United Nations declared it a World Heritage Site in 1984. The Zambezi Valley in Zimbabwe became a place where the black rhino would survive forever amid spectacular surroundings.

In 1975, thousands of black rhino roamed this valley. By 1980, 3000 black rhino had survived the liberation war of Zimbabwe. But then a poaching onslaught ensued… and by 1987, just three years after the United Nations’ declaration, the black rhino became extinct in the Zambezi Valley.

During the late 1980s, at the peak of rhino poaching, the Department of National Parks and Wildlife removed the remaining 120 black rhino out of the danger zones of the National Parks and into Intensive Protection Zones of Conservancies. Imire Safari Ranch offered their expertise and were given 7 baby rhino aged between 4 and 6 months. All 7 calves were hand-raised on a bottle for at least 8 years. The rhino were kept on the milk formula for that length of time to continue the human contact and of course as a comforter.

The black rhino have bred successfully; to date, 14 births have taken place on Imire. Nine were returned to the bush. Sadly, Imire Safari Ranch also suffered great loss. Three black rhino and an unborn calf were shot and murdered on 7th November 2007. Imire Safari Ranch lost a generation of black rhino in this brutal poaching incident. The remaining Rhinos are now followed 24 hours a day with two heavily armed guards.

At present they have 4 sub-adult rhino. The rhino are penned in two separate sites nightly and during the day are taken out onto the ranch with their handlers and armed guards to browse.

We saw the rhino, and elephants (a family of four), kudo, wildebeest and other bush game animals like sable and impala. Then I got the biggest surprise of the day when we met a full grown female elephant that thinks it is a buffalo. What? Yes, she thinks she is a buffalo.

ELEPHANT AS BUFFALO

Now the African buffalo is different from but the same species as our American buffalo – just a lot less hair and different horns. This is not a water buffalo. About 20 years ago, Imire got an orphaned female elephant, Nzhou and somehow because there were no other elephants around at the time, she began to run with the buffalo herd. To such an extent that she bonded and began to think as a buffalo. She is now the alpha female of the herd and kills male buffalo that try to mate with the other females. She is now 43 years old and has so far killed 14 male buffalo. This is a problem in that this is a breeding herd so to avoid other deaths, at night they pen her up and let the males in with the other females. Thus the herd continues to breed and in the morning, they pen the male and release her back with the other females. They have tried to have her bond with the other elephants but she refuses contact with them.

And a bigger surprise is that when a female elephant goes into heat, a male elephant can smell her up to 7 K away. A male elephant will stop at nothing to come to a female elephant in heat. In 20 years, no male elephant has ever approached our heroine. She has ceased to produce the needed signals to invite male elephants to her side. She no longer thinks that way. In her head, she is a buffalo.

After the trek around the preserve that included a wonderful lunch by a small lake cooked by Chris. While we were stopped there, they provided us with the opportunity to watch the feeding of the elephants and allowed us to do some of that as well.

Finally, we had afternoon tea back at the lodge, then we were off toward Harare again like bats from hell as Kathy was determined to make the city before dark. Driving at night is very dangerous in Zimbabwe because of lack of any street lighting and many autos with no lights or reflectors. (A pretty common thing in poorer parts of Africa as I can attest too. Once while in Malawi, my car almost ran into a ox drawn cart on the main highway with no reflectors or lights at all. We just saw it at the last moment.) Although it seems pretty dangerous to me as well to go 110 K per hour on a two lane road passing 3 to 4 cars at a time.

Imire Safari Park was a wonderful introduction to the bush of Zimbabwe and what a beautiful place this country is. Highly recommend Imire if you are in Harare and have a day to spare.

After that fabulous day, it was back at Jeannette and Keith’s for a late dinner and then to bed. Thank you Kathy!!

Festival starts in the morning with a drive to Gweru, Zimbabwe.

Cricket Anyone? – Zimbabwe 2012

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Day 4

It was Saturday and Keith took me to see my first cricket match. We drove around downtown Harare on the way to the cricket stadium. The Brits laid out this city in a beautiful way. Wide streets and on a partial grid that makes it somewhat easy to get around in.

The constant jaywalking and almost non-existent traffic laws takes a little getting used to. I forget that Americans seem to have some of the most rigid traffic laws in the world. Here it is a complete mess with everyone going everywhere at once but it seems to work somehow. Driving here for the new comer would be extremely overwhelming. I have not had to make that choice yet, as everyone as been so kind to take me where I need to go, or I am walking distance from shopping areas. http://wikitravel.org/en/Harare

We got to the stadium to watch Zimbabwe’s national team play South Africa in a Pan-African Cricket tournament. I knew something of the game but not enough to describe anything to anyone. WOW. I love cricket. We were watching a type call Twenty20 cricket as opposed to Fifty/50 or One Day cricket which takes all day, or the 5 day classic Test match cricket. Can you imagine watching a 5 day match of the same two teams playing the same game for 5 days and still maybe ending in a tie. My head would explode, but people here are totally into it.

I cannot explain the game here in just a few words, because it is as complex as baseball in the record keeping and strategic moves. Yet once you get the basics down it is a really fun and exciting game to cheer for. Zim lost, but due to a tournament rule they somehow got into the finals.

We were in private boxes enjoying the game. Like watching football in a luxury box – only way to watch a sport really! I was taken to two other boxes as I continue to meet the sponsors of the drama festival here in Zim.

I am a bit of a local celebrity or curiosity since I have come all this way to do the festival on my own dime. Some appreciate it, some are worried that I will bring an American influence to a festival that is 100 years old next year, and some are worried that I will underestimate Zim’s education system. It is strange to be an American on the ground in a small country. They respect us and dislike us with equal measure. They know more about our country and elections then we do because we are such a huge influence in the world that what we do affects them as much as ourselves. I cannot tell you how many conversations that I have had about how they see the Obama/Romney contest.

While we were fighting two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Chinese quietly came in to Africa, and Zimbabwe in particular and have bought all the minerals rights. So Zimbabwe has taken all that the Chinese will give them, because they were getting very little now from the US and Europe.

Back on home and to bed. Tomorrow I am going on SAFARI.

Cheers

Ethiopia and Harare – Zimbabwe 2012

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Travel Day

Day 1

I am flying high over the Atlantic on Ethiopian Airlines. Talk about luxury. Certainly no American airline offers this kind of service any more. Blankets and pillows for everyone. Free meal and free booze and basically free everything. The people are incredibly friendly. They ask what I am doing and when I tell them, they all give me advice on how to survive in Zim and Africa in general. People are friendly everywhere if you take the time with them, and are courteous yourself. But this was really very pleasant.

My stop-over in Washington was completely uneventful. I landed at 1:45 AM, and I had booked a hotel room. I am just too old to try to sleep in a row of chairs in the airport. It was worth it, because I was exhausted after a day of taking care of last-minute details and the stress that I have every time I fly. Plus is was really nice to spend one last night in what I perceive as American style luxury. TV, ESPN, ac, coffee in the room and a very large hot shower.

I am currently watching the cutest little Ethiopian boy run up and down the aisles. Big smile on his face as he laughingly runs back and forth. How can you not smile at that? The pure joy of just being able to run around with no cares.

Even with the help of alcohol and a few pills it is very hard for me to sleep on a plane. Although for one stretch I did manage to until a beautiful air hostess woke me up because I was drooling. How romantic and sexy is that image?

I am about halfway to Addis Abeba, and I still have 9 more hours after I land there. I will arrive in Harare around 12 PM on Thursday. This jet lag is going to be awful.

(For spelling junkies – Addis Ababa can be spelled two ways. I choose to use the spelling used by the official Ethiopian Mapping Authority Addis Abeba.)

I will try to send this out when I get to Addis Abeba as there is no internet on my planes. I marvel at people who can do all their work from the skies, but unfortunately I am not booked on one of those flights.

My two seat mates are two Ethiopian men who are returning home after long times away. One is a college professor in computer science in North Carolina, and the other is a man who has not been home for over 15 years who lives in Seattle and has three kids. They have been very kind answering all my stupid questions about Ethiopia and trying to teach me useful words.

Listening to Miles Davis at the moment – on the airline sound system – he is so cool, that he makes me feel cool just listening to him.

“Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe”……Anatole France.

Sunday, June 24, 2012
Day 2

(It is hard to get online here for a number reasons. So please bare with me. I will write as often as I can.)

I have been flying for about 10 hours now and it is dawn. I am watching the sunrise over the east coast of Africa and it is amazing. It is the same sunrise as in any part of world, but since I have never seen anything in Africa this is especially amazing. I am flying over Somalia and Khartoum. The view screen on the back of our seats shows us flying over places that I have seen on maps all my life but never imagined that I would ever come near too.

As we flew into into Addis Abeba, it was grey and dreary. It is winter here and grey seems the main color. The airport seems in a total state of chaos, but it makes sense to them. Must be 20 or more duty-free shops selling everything that you can imagine. Pray rooms in all corners of the airport for men and women to pray separately. No clear idea of what gate that a flight is landing or taking off from, yet everyone but me seems to know exactly where to go. Someone in LA taught me a phrase in Ethiopian that means “good health to you”. A common greeting I was told. So I have tried it on about 10 people in the last day or so. I usually get a strange stare. It is due to my amazing and very special pronunciation I am sure.

The plane that I am taking to Harare is the size of a sardine can. We have not even taken off the man behind me is already snoozing loudly and every third person on this flight is Chinese. Talking with people on the other plane they confirm that while we were fighting two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Chinese have bought all the minerals in Africa. They own Africa just like the Europeans owned it in the last century. This is the new form of colonialism, so has anything really changed? It just seems a new master is all.

Finally I am in Harare dog-tired, yet I still have customs. The people are very nice but the process is clumsy at best. I stood in three lines over an hour while one man in one booth processed about 60 people. I arrived with a temporary work permit, my passport, my contract with the Festival and proof of my ticket out of the country – all required to enter the country. They never asked of any of it. They only wanted my 45 dollar fee for my visa. Oh well.

I finally got through and met Gavin Peter, the festival director. We have spoken for months by email and Facebook – but to finally meet him in person was great. A big, friendly, gregarious man who drove me through Harare to the home of my hosts for the next week, Keith and Jeannette ——. Keith is the chairman of the board of the NIAA who sponsors the festival.

A quick shower and a brief nap. I was so knackered, but I got up so that I could try to get on the Zim schedule. It was still about 4 PM, so they showed me around their property. The homes in the suburbs seem to consist of large to moderate homes on large tracts of land (2 to 3 acres) surrounded by high walls and fences. Their garden is amazing with so many beautiful plants and flowers that blazed with color even in winter. Then a very pleasant evening in their lovely home with a fire (it is winter here), dinner and a bottle of wine. What a very lovely introduction to this interesting country and what promises to be a very life-changing adventure.

Zimbabwe 2012

In 2011, my life was kind of falling apart. A three-year relationship with a woman who I loved very much had ended. I was still reeling from the aftermath of the world-wide economic downtown that had closed my real estate investment business and was forcing my house toward foreclosure. To cover the expenses of running my suddenly upside down house, I was renting out every extra bedroom that I had to college students who went to school at the close-by University of Southern California. My only other income at the time was running a small non-profit theatre where I served as Producing Artistic Director. Theatre is one of the great passions of my life, but after 25 years leading a small non-profit arts group, I was exhausted and burned out.

I desperately needed a break, or as one friend put it best – I needed an escape from my life. Yet, there was no life-line nor escape. As my house edged ever closer to foreclosure, my despair grew and my options were shrinking fast.

It was at that moment that one morning an email arrived in my inbox. It was an email that I had been expecting, but I was not really sure how I felt about it. I had been communicating about a possible job with an arts group in Zimbabwe. One of my former theatre students when I taught at Pepperdine University in Malibu, CA., was from Zimbabwe, and her mother was a volunteer administrator for this organization. My former student had put us together and on a lark I had applied to work for them.

The job would take about 2 to 3 weeks and the adjudicator would see about 15000 children perform in various theatre and public speaking categories. The job paid a small salary and promised all living expenses would be covered. The catch was the adjudicator had to figure out a way to get to Zimbabwe, and pay for it themselves. But whom ever came as a reward, they would be given a two-week tour around Zimbabwe. They would see places with names that I had never heard but would soon become very familiar with in the coming weeks and years. Places like Harare, the capital city, Kwekwe, Gweru, Great Zim, Matopos National Park, Vic Falls, Bulawayo, and so many more.

Zimbabwe here I come!!!

The entries that you are about to read are from my first travel blog called Dispatches. You can find the blogs here if you want to read ahead. I will be posting them here as part of my 2012 series with new photos, more stories both published and new, plus comments.

http://jamesrcarey.blogspot.com/

This epic trip did not end with Zimbabwe. I had landed another guest artist position with a theatre in Rome for a couple of weeks which was going to start right after I left Zimbabwe. This was going to lead to a month of roaming around Europe before I headed back to Los Angeles. The stories of Italy will also be part of this 2012 series.
Continue reading “Zimbabwe 2012”

Tag: Harare

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Ethiopia and Harare – Zimbabwe 2012

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Zimbabwe 2012

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