Not up to much in Mutare
Trip Start
Feb 20, 2007
1
32
38
Trip End
Jun 2007
Mutare,
Zimbabwe
Monday, May 14, 2007
On the way there we were stopped at several police roadblocks, and at one of these we all had to pile out of the bus so that our tickets and papers could be inspected, and so that people could be searched (for smuggled diamonds, apparently). Two queues formed, one for men, and one for women. I played the innocent tourist card, and joined the women's queue, as the female police officer at the front of it looked more trustworthy that the male officers, who were searching every other man. When my turn came I was not searched (again, I was worried that they would see all the valuables I had in my bag), and was waved back onto the bus. As I was boarding, one of the male officers, a sullen-looking fellow, asked me if I had been searched. I told him that I had been cleared by the female officer, and smiled sweetly at him as he grudgingly let me continue back to my seat on the bus.
Mutare is a lovely town, a city, even, for its population is about that of Cork. It doesn't feel like a city, however, as it is spread out and its centre moves at a quiet, slow pace. Again, like Harare and Masvingo, it was a planned city, comprised of a grid of tree-lined avenues. What I liked most about the place was the backdrop of dark green mountains, rising in the difference, set against a clear blue sky. I often thought that I could have been in a city in the Alps, the mountains reminded me of those that are around Annecy, in France.
I didn't get up to very much in Mutare, partly because of laziness (and a want to rest, read, and write), partly because there isn't much to do in the place. I had hoped to go to see giraffes and elephants being fed in a national park that is about half an hour's walk out of town. A local white woman told me that they had stopped feeding the animals (which they used to do at the same time every day), so I was unlikely to see anything. She also said that I'd have to pay the entry fee in US dollars, and they would give change to me in Zim dollars, converted at the official rate. I only had $50 bills. The final nail in the coffin was her warning that Mozambican bandits sometimes operate in the area, and mug tourists who walk around the hills. So, the walk was cancelled, perhaps not a bad thing considering my last hairy encounter with elephants in Malawi.
I settled for a trip to Mutare's museum, more out of a desire to "do" something than any particular want to see the place. I managed to convince the man who sold entry tickets that I was working in Zimbabwe, which meant that I could pay the local price (about $0.40) instead of the $10 price tourists have to pay. The $10 would have stopped me from going, partly because it is a ludicrous price (for what was on offer), mainly because I didn't want to give such a generous present to Comrade Mugabe. The museum was mildly interesting; it had exhibits showing vintage cars, stuffed animals indigenous to Zimbabwe, old guns, a section showing the minerals that Zimbabwe has and some displays about tribes in the country.
Most of the rest of my days here were spent dedicated to the readers of this blog, either tapping away at new entries, or uploading photos (a painfully slow process in African internet cafes). I had also fallen behind a lot on my diary, which had to be taken care of. Finally, I spent a lot of time reading, devouring Doris Lessing's "African Laughter", an excellent book of anecdotes about four trips to Zimbabwe that the author made between 1982 and 1992. Well worth reading, if anyone has some time on their hands.
