This is the eighth in an ongoing series of posts that capture journal entries from my incredible trip to Zimbabwe in 1997. You can read more about my motivation for the journey and why I’m revisiting it now in the original post. I was 21 at the time I wrote this.
 
Part 8
7/2/97, Chitungwiza, Zimbabwe
OK, feeling a little better today. I had a small breakdown in Talita’s office today and was told basically to get over it. So I have to be strong and endure the amazingly slow pace of life in a developing country, as well as the poverty and inconvenience. It took me two hours this morning to produce two letters at work, because I did not have all the information and had to wait on others , all of whom are incredibly slow and extremely irritating. I finally got all the information and got the letters printed out and then went into town with Lovemore, my partner in crime (at work anyway). We had several errands to run at the Embassy and at Speciss College. Lovemore had to make a delivery to a lawyer and I finally bought some postcards.
 
Lovemare is a very interesting young man, he actually works for CHIYSAP as a Project Officer and unlike most people his age, he lives alone and has some logical plans to make money outside of CHIYSAP because they don’t pay very much. Harare during the week is much more bustling than on the weekend, but I still didn’t see very many white or ‘colored’ people. The buses from the outlying areas all come to one place and to go anywhere else you have to take a taxi, which is expensive, by CHIYSAP standards anyway. So we walked to the embassy.
 
This is the second time I’ve been there and I guess I was expecting to be treated differently there because I’m an American citizen. This has not been the case. Most of the people who work there aren’t American anyway so they could give a shit. When I registered there the other day I got a flier for a 4th of July celebration taking place at some park in Harare on Saturday (July 5). I’m going to try to go and I hope it will be a positive experience. Anyway, we went to the embassy because they fund the dressmaking training unit and we have some questions about the practical application of those funds. They guy wasn’t there and we were told to wait outside or come back later.
 
So we walked all the way back to the bus station area and got a ride to Speciss College to register the three secretarial trainees for their placement tests. This was a complete fiasco. First we were given the wrong form, that fact was only discovered after we filled out all three. Next we found the real form and were told that we had to fill out 9 of them (one for each person and each subject that they were taking the test in)! I was extremely frustrated, that college is worse than CHIYSAP! So after we finally got all the forms done, we had to wait for this guy to manually create a receipt for each and every one of those forms. In the end I felt sorry for him because I wasn’t very nice to him at first. I should learn to be more patient I suppose.
 
Next we took a bus back to town and walked back to the embassy but the guy still wasn’t there so we walked back to the bus area and stood in line (the queue as they call it here). We got back to CHIYSAP before everyone went home.
 
It has been sprinkling/raining since the afternoon. Everyone says it is very cold but I don’t think so. I’ll probably say something different tomorrow morning in my ice cold shower. Last night I was awakened by shouting, a thief was stealing something from next door I guess. The neighbors discovered him and he jumped over the fence into our area and ran around the back of the house and jumped the fence again. Apparently they caught him and beat him (that was the report from Francis). This afternoon when we came home we found that he had left his shoe in the front yard. This is the second incident in the week that I have been here. I guess that’s the reason for all the bars and locks. I hope my stuff doesn’t get stolen while I am here.
 
Continued in Part 9

This is the seventh in an ongoing series of posts that capture journal entries from my incredible trip to Zimbabwe in 1997. You can read more about my motivation for the journey and why I’m revisiting it now in the original post. I was 21 at the time I wrote this.
 
Part 7
6/30/97, Chitungwiza, Zimbabwe
Monday. Work is only 8am-4pm, Thursday and Friday are spent in meetings so that leaves me only three days to fill, with what I am still not clear on. Tomorrow I’m going to spend all day with dressmaking. That should be interesting, everyone was impressed with the skirt and top I made for myself at the party on Saturday so I don’t think they are too advanced, it’s just a simple pattern. Today I went to town (Harare) again, this time with Joseph, who not only has the worst teeth but also the worst eyesight, holding things inches from his thick glasses. He doesn’t drive, but owns a car. Clemens acts as CHIYSAP chauffeur. I’ve told them I can drive but I don’t think they believe me, women don’t drive.
 
So today I registered at the American Embassy, which contained no Americans that I could see, just the people who worked there and many people, Zimbabwean and other, trying to get a visa to go to America. I guess it’s pretty hard to get one, I heard many stores, all of which were rejected as flimsy reasons to want to go to the U.S. I also went to the bank to get money and to check if my credit cards were working. For a while, the Advanta wasn’t. The Chase does but I haven’t been able to use it to get money at an ATM. They both worked at the bank so I guess I feel a little more secure. We also visited the post office, stationary store, and OXFAM offices where David works (where I will be able to receive faxes). David is the most sane and rational Zimbabwean man I have met here. I like him very much and his wife Francine as well. They are very progressive and accepting. I want to have dinner with them soon. So most of my day in the city was spent in and out of the car. For the short time I was at work I sat at my desk and read a paper by Joseph that was surprisingly eloquent and informative. There is more to that man than meets the eye.
 
7/1/97, Chitungwiza, Zimbabwe
Feeling very alone, missing Jennie, wanting to go home.
 
Continued in Part 8

This is the sixth in an ongoing series of posts that capture journal entries from my incredible trip to Zimbabwe in 1997. You can read more about my motivation for the journey and why I’m revisiting it now in the original post.
 
Part 6
6/29/97, Chitungwiza, Zimbabwe
I ate porridge again this morning, it is a combination of cornmeal mush and peanut butter. It is actually very good, much better than oatmeal. It thought that would be the extend of my breakfast, but then Florence brought me a huge plate of sudsa, pork and greens. People seem to eat a lot here, I can never finish a full plate. Perhaps it is because they don’t have much so it is important to get enough food while it is available. They think I am strange because I don’t eat much. I say it is because I am small, but they just laugh because I am taller or as tall as most people here. Florence gave me more food because she said I needed it after a night of drinking. We had a party here last night, in honor of me I think. I’ve been drinking an awful lot of beer, every time I turned around someone was refilling my glass. If I keep this up I’ll really get fat.
 
The first night I came here, Wednesday, I had beer with dinner. Friday night there was a small party at Joseph and Talita’s house for me. Joseph wanted me to set up a printer for him and install the software but there was not enough room on his hard drive and I don’t know enough about PCs to remove the old printer software without losing it forever. I think Joseph was disappointed, oh well.
 
People at the Chitungwiza Youth Alternative Program (CHIYSAP) where I work have many high expectations of me, especially the theater group. Everyone wants to talk to me, to have me give them acting tips, to read their poetry, etc. I saw a play they had written and though it was very good (much better than I expected). They did a series of sketches called “The Eye of Poverty” illustrating real life problems and situations faced by people here. Joseph doesn’t seem to think it is very good though. I’ll help them as best I can. I brought the book “Theater of the Oppressed” by Augusto Boal. I think it can help us learn together about methods for bringing messages to and instigating change amoong audiences. The theater group’s production was illustrative, but offered no solutions. The group meets on Saturdays because during the week all members are involved in other projects within CHIYSAP.
 
My jobs here are to work closely with the theater and dressmaking groups as well as supervise all the training units of all projects. In the supervision job I have a partner, Lovemore (other interesting names here are Luckson, Patience and Prudence. I think they are English translations of Shona names). In my first few days working with CHIYSAP I have spent most of my time in long boring meetings where everyone is encouraged to speak their mind. It takes forever, but this is the CHIYSAP way. The program is designed to empower its members so I’m told that long meetings are just part of the process. My first day there was a Thursday which was unfortunate for me because that day is spent entirely in one management team meeting. Fridays are dedicated to leadership training sessions. In the morning a small group meets and discusses some part of Paolo Friere’s work, then everyone in CHIYSAP gets together for a group discussion.
 
This Friday was a little different because there was a welcoming session for me involving a performance by the theater group and then a discussion with me. I think that I was supposed to prepare something for it, but that wasn’t made very clear so I just answered questions. Nobody tells me what is going on , we just do it. Like today, the trip to the city was already planned bu I was told only a few minutes before we left. I’ll have to say something if things like this continue to happen. The parties have been fun though.
 
Continued in Part 7

This is the fifth in an ongoing series of posts that capture journal entries from my incredible trip to Zimbabwe in 1997. You can read more about my motivation for the journey and why I’m revisiting it now in the original post.
 
Part 5
6/29/97, Chitungwiza, Zimbabwe
I had porridge this morning, it was actually very good. Florence asked me if I ate pork so I suppose I’ll be looking forward to a lunch or dinner of strange bits of what was once a pig. I’ve been giving away a lot of my meat because it’s just too much for me to handle.

Later…I just got home from a trip into “town” (Harare). I went with Francis and Trust. I am slowly getting more direction oriented. I think I could find my way home from the Zengeza 3 bus stop. I still don’t know my address yet, I need to have Francis write it down for me. On the way to down we stopped at the main bus stop for all the local and national routes. Florence works at a clinic near there so we walked her to work. This household is unusual I think because everyone works.

Near the main bus terminal there is a large flea market, open fruit and vegetable market and a place where crafts are sold. There are some beautiful things there, very cheap. A woman offered me 6 woven coasters for $3 Zimbabwe dollars (that 30 cents US). I think I will do my Christmas shopping at that place. I like the baskets the best, there are also many things carved out of polished wood and stone. Hippos are very popular with the tourists it seems. People stare at me everywhere, because of my color I’m told.

Harare is like downtown San Jose, some tall buildings, hotels, offices, and lots of upscale (for this area) shops. We walked through some beautiful parks in the city center. The thing that I found the strangest was that all the national government buildings are right there. Harare is Zimbabwe’s Washington DC, not its Sacramento. The building where the President has his office is right there, you can walk right up to it, along with the Supreme Court and House of Parliament buildings. The three of us (Francis, Trust and I) walked around the city, I don’t think they go there very often but it was nice of them to take me around. Some images of downtown Harare

We had lunch at the Chicken Inn which is a fast food chain that serves KFC-like chicken, as well as burgers and fries. It was greasy and not very good. The chain’s motto is “Luv dat chicken,” strange.

Some people and things here are odd parodies of things at home. The style of dress that I see among the young people is that of the mid to late 80’s, the stuff I was wearing from 6th grade to 9th: bright colors, sweaters with designs woven into them and decorative patches attached. Most of the people wear Ked-like sneakers. A lot of the men wear cheap and often ill-fitting suits. Hats are common: berets, newsboy caps, baseball hats and knit ski caps. Hardly anyone has brand name clothing and if they do it is worn proudly and often. Some of the younger, cooler, guys wear baggy pants and big logo t-shirts. Nike and Addidas are popular status symbol brands. I’m not sure if the style of dress has been influenced by the older American sitcoms that are shown on TV, or if this is simply the clothing that is available. I stand out no matter what and I’m discovering that it doesn’t really matter what I wear. The current plan is to dress as I normally would. I feel most comfortable in my jeans and flannel shirts.
Continued in Part 6

This is the fourth in an ongoing series of posts that capture journal entries from my incredible trip to Zimbabwe in 1997. You can read more about my motivation for the journey and why I’m revisiting it now in the original post. I recently got all the photos from my trip digitized so this and future entries will have accompanying images.

Part 4
6/28/97, Chitungwiza, Zimbabwe
Jennie called me at Mark and Tony’s, she seems to be holding up pretty well compared to me. I cry every time I think about her. It’s hard to be so far away. Last night I told some cousins of Joseph’s that I had a boyfriend and that I lived with him. But I heard also that the CHIYSAP theater group has written a play about a relationship between two women. So maybe it isn’t such a big deal, but I probably shouldn’t say anything except to California Francis’ queer friends in Harare. One of them has already called the office, but I wasn’t there, we are playing phone tag (as best we can with the limited number of phones around here).

When I first arrived at the house where I would be living for the next 6 months, it was in the company of about 10 people. The house is actually pretty big, but it is surrounded by a tall fence and all the windows and doors have bars and locks. For my first meal, we all sat in the living room with the television on. Clair, the youngest woman, went around on her knees and poured warm water over everyone’s hands (mine and the men’s, that is), all the women were in the kitchen helping to prepare the food.

I guess that I am deferred to as a man because I am a foreigner. I have not been asked to prepare food yet or wash anyone’s hands, I hope it will stay that way. I prefer more manly conversations since most of the women want to ask me silly things about America and tell me that they want to be a movie star or a musician. Last night at Joseph and Talita’s house, I talked with one of Joseph’s relatives about the place of women, religion and the Bible. It was actually more of a friendly argument since he is a very traditional Zimbabwean male. He thinks women do women’s work in the kitchen and with the children. Some women do wear pants here so I’ve been wearing my jeans. A lot of the women and girls who are involved in CHIYSAP are very progressive it seems, but some of the things I tell them about America still shock them.

So after the hand washing, my first meal in Zimbabwe proceeded. It was alright except for the chicken feet floating in a reddish sauce that was meant to go over rice and some extremely unattractive looking pieces of chicken. I haven’t had sudsa yet (the “staple food” of Zimbabwe, it is something like corn grits), I think I’m still getting the special treatment. After dinner I got to see my bedroom which is actually about the size of my room at home, with the same sized bed, except that I am sharing it with Anna, the ‘maid.’ I don’t think she is too happy with the situation. She moved her clothes out of the closet to make room for mine and now she has to share a bed with a snoring foreigner, oh well. She does most of the housework: laundry, cleaning and cooking, as well as taking care of Kuda the baby. I think she is also related to Francis.

Additional food/drink notes: Bread and butter with jam is served for lunch, snacks and appetizers. It is just plain white bread, like Wonderbread at home. I do enjoy the beer. Castle Lager is like Budweiser here. Everyone drinks it and drinks a lot of it.
Continued in Part 5