It’s 550km between Harare and Plumtree Border Post. I wanted an uninterrupted journey using public transport. Then it meant my options were limited – there was one viable option – go to Mbare and book a ride in one of the cross-border buses from Harare to Francistown, Botswana.
Never underestimate the power of women. My wife had called that she was in Plumtree from her base in Beitbridge and that meant I had to travel to Plumtree that day. I had hoped to play cathch up with my guys after finishing the official business side of my trip but all was well planned and laid out for me – a cousin of madam called that he had some parcel for me to deliver to her but I had to wait for his call because he was out of town. Another Whatsapp message from sweetheart – “Tsano Seb wants to see you before you leave.” Now two appointments with tsanos and a wife waiting for me at home meant that there was no time to see the boys or any other mischief in town. Momentarily the hunger pangs ceased and I told my guys that I was out. My colleague picked me out from the Hotel and we headed to Mbare – he had to cover his 265km road journey to the Eastern Highlands as well. I booked my seat and lodged my carry case in the boot. My laptop carry case on shoulder itv was time to hunt for food if not a good Gochi Gochi Tshisa Nyama).
Out of courtesy and appreciation of the good service the bus crew had rendered me, I wanted to buy the loader who had assisted me some food as well. These guys are made of the same cloth- “I only eat Nandos”. I later spotted a Chicken Slice delivery van going through a back alley and instinct directed me to that direction. It’s been about 20 years before I have been to the Bus Terminus part of Mbare so, so much has changed, no more Kanoyangwa & Sons Shops. I avoided the crowded ally and used the opposite one which was less crowded. The Chicken Slice eatery is clean inside and I decided to eat in. Scanning the place I noted most of the seats were occupied – people had set up their ‘offices’. Ladies just seated drinking water or soft drinks, youths with big headphones and satchels. The ladies are into the illegal foreign currency trade and the boys are selling cellphone cahrgers and cables.
Just when I was three places behind the line, the backup generator ceased. Two guys came and chatted one of the waiters, an innocent chat until a closer scruting reveals that the waiter keeps the wards of Bond notes on behalf of the guys – they are illigal money changers and they want zero dectection from the police. A preety, smartly dressed woman asked me how much the bottled water costs – hawu, lady may you please ask the cashier just over the counter – either she is an illegal money changer or a hooker. She never bothered to ask the cashier, she just turned and left.
The generator was running again and I was now number five on the queue- the waiter’s two friends were now number one and two – kahunhu kemuGhetho. I gave it to the lady cashier though – she kept her calm under provocation by a guy who was,maybe, number 12 on the queue. He was complaing why she was not serving customers bla bla and she politely told him that the system was not yet up. The system took some time to boot and be online again.
I think the last time I was in Rufaro Stadium was in 2001. Whenever we went to watch soccer we would have one ‘ZIFA MEMBER’ in for free. These are the local kids who would want to watch soccer but could not afford to pay so the gate keepers would allow them in but will hold us liable if they cause trouble. Most of then would be allowed in for free at ‘ZIFA TIME’, mostly 10 minutes before the end of the game. Two,’ZIFA MEMBERS’ running around in the eatery didn’t miss the chance to come and ask for some fries. I gave them two fries each and they thanked me before they rushed off. Within minutes the kids had brought a third member and they understood the language when I told them not anymore -“Bholato Bholato dhara, maspaka kare”.
Gone is the notorious Mbare of two decades ago – youths are hustling and they have that marketing flair that you might be tempted to buy something which don’t even need. An hour before departure time, my tsanos were not even picking their phones, I relayed the message to sweetheart – she laughed and I knew she was happy that I was on my way and not extending my trip by another day.
Two ladies were busy with their hustle, prima facie they are selling cooked green mealies or cool drinks but in reality they are illegal money changers. “Handina kufunda zvangu but vana vangu ndoendesa kuchikoro, Mukomana arikuda kuita Doctor and arikutsvaira. Ndiye Headboy. Arikuita Geograghy, MOB and Accounts.”
The traffic light at the intersection of Simon Mazorodze and Rememberance Drive is not working and its traffic jungle there. The Coach made a recess break at Nandos Simon Mazorodze – the driver just packed in the road. My loader friend on his way out,”Mdhara isu tiri veNandos.”
I caught an intresting converstion between a youth wha was selling cellphone and data cables. “Shamwari uchirimuno, hachisi kucharger ichi ndafunga kutin wasara parank, ndipe mari yangu” , said the other guy. “Ah murungu ndouraya vana ne nzara torai imwe, iyoyo mochengeta. Ah mukoma zvakapresser oyi imwe at half price.” The other guy, “Saka ndokuitira ecocash”. “Murungu zvakapresser, ingochinjayi mayuwesi ayo, ndokupai good rate”. The other guy, “Ah urimbavha, thats why uchinditevera mubhazi”. “Ah Murungu, inga munaDecember ndini ndakabata boys dzangadzakupai ma fake, musadaro so”. “Sorry wangu, ndipewo good rate nenumber dzako”. “Bholato Bholato, maspaka, mukadzi nevana chikafu bho manje“.
It’s rush hour so South bound traffic is jammed at the non working robot at Rememberance Drive. An open army, MAZDA T35 Truck, full of army personnel, encroached in the right lane and face City bound traffic from the Nandos feeder road to the robot. Two Commuter onmibuses followed suit and the soldiers as if on cue shouts threateningly, “Iwe! Iwe! Iwe!”. Once in a while, the whole scenerio acts out, alternating between the Kombis and private motor vehicles. Then shockingly a Grey, Police Support Unit Scania truck pulled tha same trick. As usual, the commuter Omnibus drivers were not outdone and the same shouts of Iwe were not missed out.
Life goes on and when in Mbare do as the Mbareans do.
The Truth! 