Good ol' Uncle Bob...

In most offices around Gabs, at least one room has a poster from the Southern Africa Development Community, a forum for the leaders of a dozen regional countries to promote economic growth. This poster has a picture of the heads of state of all the member countries. What makes this tidbit relevant is that on every poster I’ve seen in Botswana, the portrait of Robert Mugabe, President of Zimbabwe has been defaced – thumbtacks through the eyes, devil horns, outright shredding… you get the idea. The depredations of “Uncle Bob” have been very well documented elsewhere, so I won’t go into them in great detail here, except to say that seeing this poster made me feel better – hating Robert Mugabe isn’t just a pastime for pedantic, culturally biased Western outsiders like me. It’s something all the people of Africa can enjoy! And so they should – Zimbabwe under his recent rule has become a terrifying object lesson in how the cruel ambitions of a single person can squeeze the vitality from a country of amazing people and nearly boundless potential.

Zimbabweans don’t get much respect in Botswana. The recent troubles have sent a steady stream of Zimbabwean immigrants, legal and otherwise, into Botswana in search of work and political and economic stability. Zimbabweans are consistently blamed for Botswana’s quickly rising violent crime rates, for the paucity of good jobs, for urban overcrowding, for pollution, and (I presume) for bad weather and the lack of anything good on TV. They’re pretty much the all-purpose targets for any variety of generic frustration from most Batswana.

I suspect I see why. Though I’m only in-country for a day, my experience with Zimbabweans in Victoria Falls have corroborated my encounters with their countrymen in Botswana: they all shared the good nature, fine sense of humor, admirable work ethic and sophisticated manners that are so conspicuously absent in Botswana proper. Where the Tswana border staff this afternoon offered only surly indifference and a rank indignation that we had interrupted their sitting-around-and-doing-nothing time, their Zimbabwean counterparts on the other side of the crossing were cheerful and helpful beyond words. They joked with sincere cheer about our (failed) attempts to weasel our way out of the $30US visa fee; on request, they found the largest passport stamps possible to give us an adequate souvenir of our entry into one of Africa’s more maligned countries; they gave directions, thanked us for our time, apologized for the unavoidable delay, and actually *smiled* as they sent us on our way.

This may not seem so remarkable to those of you reading from home, but I assure you, anyone who has spent much time here will drool at the thought of encountering so much plain old *friendliness* of the sort that’s somehow been scoured from Botswana by an as-yet unexplained combination of government and local culture. One more example – in Vic Falls we pulled into a gas station, which a small sign dolefully informed us had no gasoline or diesel of any kind. We just wanted to get our oil and water checked – only the latter was deficient, and the attendant happily replenished it while apologizing for the absence of fuel. He subsequently washed our windshield, without being asked, while chatting with us about our travels – and then refused payment! After we had badgered him into accepting a few bucks for his troubles and driven off, we all, more or less simultaneously, offered some amazed remark such as “Guys, we’re not in Botswana anymore.”

Tonight, we’re camped at the small but very pleasant Tokkie’s Lodge, a backpackers’ hostel ten minutes’ drive from the Falls. The British owner, Ron, in the great tradition of hostel operators’ everywhere, has been a huge help in arranging for our lodgings in Livingstone tomorrow night and suggested the fine restaurant I described with excruciating verbosity earlier. The two dogs, Softy and Nuts, are quiet and friendly black lab crosses who wander happily around the small fenced grounds and visit everyone in sight.

Zimbabwe, for what little time I’ve spent here, is fascinating, and I wish I had more time to explore it. Tomorrow we’ll be hitting Vic Falls and seeing what we can of this tiny corner, but it’s no substitute for seeing the rest of the country, particularly Harare, the heart of the Great Zimbabwean empire of five centuries ago. I’m coming back someday… and I hope that Zimbabwe’s still here when I do.