Fragments tell the story

noticed that two big shops have just suddenly gone. A couple of weeks ago they were there but now they are unexpectedly closed; windows bare, doors locked, iron bars and grills padlocked and protecting empty showrooms.
Three years ago during a particularly bad fuel shortage I used to accompany my son to a nearby junior school by bicycle. There was no way to avoid a short but steep hill and I always had to get off and walk. My daily challenge was to stay on the bike until I reached a big boulder half way up the hill. This week I saw with sadness that the boulder has gone.
This big black rock, the size of a family car, has been painstakingly chipped into little stones by a man, a woman and two children over the last few months. We do have municipal police in our town but it seems they are more concerned with impounding unlicensed bicycles than protecting the environment for us and those who come after us. Now a rock, thousands of years old, is stacked in little piles on the side of the road for sale to builders.
On a recent journey there were six police road-blocks in a distance of just 70 kilometres. This is another fragment of Zimbabwean life where you are left with more questions than answers. As you repeatedly slow down for the road-blocks you begin to feel you are travelling in a country at war. You keep asking yourself just exactly what it is the police, who seem younger by the day, are looking for?
Another view of Zimbabwe is the display of wealth by the nouveau riche. Luxury cars and extravagant four-wheel-drive vehicles worth multiple billions of dollars fill car parks and block roads in shopping centres in affluent parts of suburban Harare. The new super rich people of Zimbabwe seem keen to show off their wealth and are keen to be seen. At the dirtiest little beer hall or bar on the side of the road there is always at least one Mercedes or one luxury double cab – more often though there is a whole line of them.
Life in Zimbabwe is such a strange mixture of wildly contrasting circumstances and these days almost nothing is as it seems. For the past week only one thing has been certain: If the electricity is on there is a world cup football game being shown on TV, if its off, then there’s no game being played.
I end with the very sad news that a man so many of us felt we knew, passed away this week. Wrex Tarr, a businessman, an entertainer, newsreader, a national archer and rifle shottist died aged 71 in East London. Apparently he died while entertaining a happy crowd of bowlers at the club after the day’s play. Until next week, ndini shamwari yenyu.