Making it Rain in Zimbabwe

A very very very quick recap of our trip to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. The falls are beautiful. Although my writing talent may be good for a laugh here and there, it falls well short of being able to capture what we saw so I won't even try. At one point the mist from the falls feels likje a full-on down pour. In others places peaceful and serene. In some places powerful and violent. I will attempt to get some pics so that you can see the endless falls and countless rainbows in a scene so spectatularly beautiful that i told be that the next time we visit I'll bet St Peter is our guide.

As for Zim, you have probably gotten an impression of the country's political situation from my previous posts. Its ugly. An aging and increasingly dillusional dictator has shaken the outside world's confidence in the country, which plunged it into economic turmoil. I got a feel for the hyper inflationary economy first hand when I exchanged a single US dollar for ten billion four hundred and ninety four million and several thousand more Zimbabwean dollars. No joke. Tony and I went to a grocery store, and the shelves were practically empty...and this in a nation with fertile soil that once made it known as Africa's breadbasket. A box of serial costs $60 billion Zim dollars.

So yeah, I am a billionaire in Zimbabwe, but its not a laughing matter really. The currency is essentially worthless, so they can't import anything. All trading is done in foreign currencies or on the black market. Zimbabweans go accross the borders of neighboring countries to resell or trade back home, which has ratched up the deman & costs in those countries as a result. Think your gas prices are bad? Try $18 USD per liter in Zambia, which is blamed on the Zim situation. As you might expect, xenophobic violence is an unfortunate consequence of the situation. Its like the movie Gangs of New York, only real...and just as violent.

The desperation of the Zim situation hit home when we went to mass last Sunday. Along with members of the Catholic Women's Group, who wore shirts reading "Better Fields, Better Homes, Better Lives", we sang the classic hymm "The Lord Hears The Cry of the Poor"", which takes on an entirely new meaning and feeling in this setting.

So how do we handle all of this desperation? Time to go back to the 5 star hotel for some serious pampering!

The Victoria Falls Hotel is a colonial British masterpiece with first class service and amenities o'plenty. We attended high tea daily. What better way to wash the away the painful image of poverty than with some tea and crumpets?

After visiting the market, Tree exploited the economic situation to her advantage and scored some beautiful hand carved crucifixes at a discount price. That tree drives a hard bargain! She would have made my fellow MBA classmates proud!

Meanwhile, I got some stone carvings in exchange for a pair of socks. Absolutely true. Just peeled my socks off and handed them over like currency. Think about that. A sweaty pair of gym socks has more value in the market than the local currency. Why? The artist named Everton who made the trade explained that he had been wearing the same pair since the economic woes picked up and importing new clothes became difficult. Armed with this knowledge, I traded my squeaky brown dress shoes for a wood carving and a few Wisconsin Badger T-Shirts for a stone soap tray. This exploitation thing ain't so hard after all!

I felt a bit bad about doing that, but that feeling quickly subsided after I joined Grandma and Bea at the Hotel's beauty salon. Yep, grandma and Bea were all done up in curlers and the big helmet like hair dryers while I was right there with them getting a trim and a shave. Its the best haircut east of Brookfield, WI. Tree also felt bad about driving the hard bargain on the crucifixes of all things, but those thoughts were gone by the time of her pedicure.

(If you are picking up on the tension by this point, good for you because I am laying it on pretty thick!)

We all at one point or another struggled with the tension - the disparity between our lives and the people we offered our socks and pocket change to. Better that we immerse ourselves in that tension and feel the discomfort even if only temporarily rather than to ignore it alltogether.

I talked with Dulesi, our tour guide, about the tension and the limits of charity, and how pumping my tax rebate check into the Zim economy helps only so much (probably not what the house and Senate had in mind, oops). Delusi simply asked that we remember the people here - Everton the sock trader - the girls in the Women's group at church - the porters and waitresses and haridressers. If I can manage to remember those people, perhaps I'll also remember to reconcile my own interests with theirs when it comes time to make a business decision, an investment decision, cast a vote, volunteer, etc.

(Dulesi means peacemaker by the way.)

More updates to follow...