The ongoing cycle of life in Zimbabwe

Sadly, I can't claim a strong connection to the land in which I was born - Rhodesia / Zimbabwe. The connection I have to this country is only through my family, through their stories and unwavering nostalgia for a country that once boasted the highest standard of living. But my interest in the country has slowly grown, I'm not sure if it's because I want to know more about my birthplace...actually it's not that. The place where I was born is long gone. I'm not nostalgic, how could I be? I'm not nostalgic for a place and time I couldn't possibly remember. My family's stories are of a country long gone. I can't claim to be happy for the people of Zimbabwe, the great liberation of Zimbabwe has turned to starvation, hyper inflation (I read recently it was estimated at 6 sextillion percent - I don't even know what that is!), disease, mass unemployment, violence and a load of other horrible things. It's a terribly sad story, but one that I have fixated on.

I recently read When A Crocodile Eats The Sun by Peter Godwin in which Godwin, a celebrated ex-Rhodesian writer, documents the trails and tribulations of the Zimbabwean people approximately 5 years ago. The story culminates in his own father's death in Zimbabwe. In short, the story follows Godwin's many trips to Zimbabwe - he is now living abroad - to visit his parents. Their situation worsens on each visit and finally his father passes away.



Tonight I got an email from my mother in which she shares a story from my aunt who recently went on holiday to Zimbabwe with her late husband who also passed away in Zimbabwe. This is her email:
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Hi Jace

I thought you would be interested in what happened to Gill when her hubbie died. Gill had a horrifying experience - here goes - (if this was a movie, it would either be a comedy or a horror). Gill and Gordon had a good trip through Zim although she did tell me by sms that the border at Messina was terrible, with loads of sick and starving people. I had no further contact with her until I received a call from Michele (her daughter) who lives in Port Shepstone that the old man had died of heart failure on the Wednesday night. Gill went to the local police station to complete forms and to make arrangements with a Mortuary to collect him. There was a power failure at the police station and Gill had to use her cell phone for light to complete the documents. Eventually the "mortuary people" turned up and Gordon's body was removed. The next day, after Gill had contacted his sons in the UK, she went to the Parlour to discuss having him embalmed (as per the family's request in the UK) so he could be flown to the UK to be buried there with his family. The parlour had no trace of him and then Gill spent the next two days trying to locate his body!!!! There are only two mortuaries in Harare - Doves and one other and they had no knowledge of him. After going to Home Affairs, it was discovered that it was a bogus mortuary setup trying to extort money. Anyway, finally Gordon's body was located and Gill then tried to get him cremated as the embalming ran into thousands of pounds (even if it could be done). The only crematorium (I gather the one at Warren Hills, if its still there) was unable to help as they had no gas!!! Nice one!!!! It was then suggested that Gill had him cling-wrapped and drive back to SA with him like that!!!! Gill finally found a Hindu priest who said he would cremate Gordon (at a price), so Gill went off to some God-forsaken place in the bush with Gordon's body. The little Hindu man was waiting for her, pyre all ready, but he had NO MATCHES to light it!!! (It can't get any worse!!!!!) They finally found a little boy who had an old rickety bicycle and he went off in search of matches. He returned later with two matches that cost masses of Zim dollars which Gill forked out. The first match did not work..........luckily the second one did and a fire was made to cremate the poor man. Gill collected his ashes the next day (I wonder if they were his) and decided that her stay in Zim was definitely over. She came to visit me on Monday after she gave his son the urn to take back to England for burial. I'm sure this sort of thing only happens to Gill!!!

Weather at the moment is gorgeous - we have had quite a bit of rain to cool things down and the garden is flourishing - so much colour and beautiful scents.

I posted your tea this morning so hopefully it should arrive soon.
Hope to speak soon and you have caught up on some sleep.

Miss and love you
Mom xxxx
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Wow - My mom ends her account with 'I'm sure this sort of thing only happens to Gill', My aunt Gill is an eccentric woman of many amazing tales. But this one is not unique. This is almost an echo of Godwin's very sad story. First the crematorium has no gas, then the mortuary calls him to say that they're running out of fuel and can't keep the body cold much longer and he must collect it soon. Finally a friend tells him how some 'whites' have been taking their deceased to a Hindu temple with a pyre. But back then the government had banned non-Hindu's from being burned at the Hindu temple but the priest agreed to have Godwin's father declared an honorary Hindu which they did! Like my aunt Gill, Godwin finally succeeded.

After I read my mom's email I was excited to share the above with her and found myself re-reading Godwin's story. Both stories, on a personal level, are ultimately very sad. But as I page through When A Crocodile Eats The Sun I am saddened also by how little has changed over the last 5 years. I read recently of Mugabe's 85th birthday, in the book Godwin talks of Mugabe's 80th birthday. My mom doesn't mention the cost of the cremation, Godwin, back then, paid Z$200,000.


Me with my Z$100 000 000 000 note which is now worth more on ebay than in Zimbabwe!

I recommend When A Crocodile Eats The Sun to anyone interested in Zimbabwe. It is beautifully written, extremely honest and very insightful. I can't claim a connection but suddenly what was a story, albeit true, is now most definitely a reality to me. These horrific things do happen.