Two days in Harare.

I arrived in Harare in the late morning, having left Warsaw the morning before and having spent eleven hours in Doha.

I had managed a nap at the airport and again on the flight to Lusaka, but it was still a lot of flying at odd hours in order to reach the Zimbabwean capital.

Immigration was quick. I had applied and paid for my visa ahead of time and didn’t even have to show my QR code to the officer for her to process me. With a sticker and a stamp I was through.

Waiting for my bags proved to take a little while longer, and I waited and watched as people retrieved their bags from the belt, slowly awaiting the arrival of mine.

When it finally appears I retrieve it and step outside, happy once again to no longer be confined within a building or a metal tube. Checking my phone I see a text from Lloyd. He’s been sent by the hotel to fetch me. He asks me to tell him when I’ve made it through immigration. I tell him I’m already outside, standing before the international arrivals door.

He tells me he’s on another drive, but will arrive shortly. He suggests I wait at a cafe inside the airport, but I tell him I’m happy being outdoors after having been inside for so long. I drop my bag and sit on it, patiently waiting for Lloyd to arrive.

When he does arrive he tells me there’s another person he’s to pick up and drop off at a sister property to mine. I tell him I’m happy waiting; it’d be at least an hour for him to drop me off and return to the airport to pick up his next passenger. Lloyd thanks me and tells me the traffic has been awful. School reopens the next day and people have been crowding the streets to finish attending to their children’s back-to-school needs.

I climb into the car and we drive to a nearby lot to wait. His other passenger is delayed at immigration. They’ve changed the visa system and he didn’t realize he would need to fill out forms before making his way to an officer. I tell him about the online option, which he says he’ll avail himself to on his next trip back.

I am struck by the architecture of the airport terminal. It’s patterned after designs found in Great Zimbabwe, a city settled around 1000 AD that served as the capital of the Kingdom of Great Zimbabwe. Great Zimbabwe also boasts the largest stone structure in precolonial Southern Africa. The control tower takes its form from Great Zimbabwe's Conical Tower, located inside the Great Enclosure. It’s a beautiful piece of architecture and I find myself drawn to it with each visit I’ll make.

I’m staying in an area of town called Avondale, a residential neighborhood north of the Central Business District. The lodge sits on a residential street that reminds me of where I stayed in Lusaka, within easy walking distance of two strip malls.

I check in and am shown to my room, in a building in the back. It’s a gated lot boasting five single-story buildings housing all the rooms. Breakfast is served in the main building facing a small fountain and lawn.

I’m tempted to nap but decide to step out for a late lunch/early dinner nearby. I ask the attendant if it’s safe to walk around the neighborhood. He tells me it us until around 19h. I’ll be back before then and hopefully in bed.

I order fish and chips at Ocean Basket, a seafood restaurant with branches around southern Africa. The last time I ate at one I was in Windhoek, Namibia.

I sit outside to enjoy the pleasant weather. Harare sits at an elevation of almost 1,500 meters above sea level, giving it relatively cool temperatures even in the sun.

I take the long way back to the hotel so that I can check out a strip mall closer to the lodge. There’s also a gelato place I want to check out. While there, I stop into the supermarket, amazed to see an aisle of just brown sugar.

A small flower market sits just to the side of the strip mall; another strip mall rests opposite. Walking back to the lodge it strikes me anew how much Harare feels like a more chill version of Lusaka. It also feels like few tourists spend any time in this captial, no doubt preferring to spend time in Victoria Falls and using the airport as merely a waypoint.

The next morning I decide to take it easy.

A text message informs me that my flight to Mana Pools will be leaving the following afternoon. I let myself sleep in and take a leisurely breakfast at the lodge. I take a table on the outdoor patio and watch the gardener water the lawn.

It’s been a while since I’ve read a novel by an author from the country I am visiting (something I used to make a point of doing when I was backpacking) and now that I have the time I research Zimbabwean writers. The name that comes up most frequently is Tsitsi Dangarembga for her Tambudzai trilogy beginning with Nervous Conditions.

Checking my online library I find a copy, but it’s at least an eight week wait for the first volume. Checking Google maps for bookstores in Harare I find one at the strip mall across from the one I had visited the day before and decide to go there to see if I can find it.

Next day decided to take it easy. Then researched books about zimbabwe to read and came across Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga. On waiting list at library decided to go to bookstore nearby to see if could find it. No luck.

It’s a cheap Bolt ride into the city center where bookshops abound. I check my wallet for dollars and book one to the National Gallery of Zimbabwe, deciding to cross off a tourist destination while I’m at it.

Oneal picks me up and drives us down a beautiful road lined iwth jacaranda trees. I take my camera out for a photo and he tells me I should come back in a month when the lavender blooms come in.

Oneal drops me off in the lot behind the museum. The ride is 2USD. He doesn’t have change for a 5. I tell him not to worry and ask if he can pick me up in a couple of hours. He shares his WhatsApp with me and tells me I can text him if my plans change.

The museum showcases local artists and ceramicists and I spend some time taking in the different galleries. Only iPhone photography is allowed and I watch from a balcony as two women do an impromptu shoot of each other in front of some of the large-scale paintings in the courtyard below.

Outside, I take a photo of the New Reserve Bank building, the tallest building in Zimbabwe, before walking to the nearest bookstore on my list.

They don’t have it. And so I embark on an impromptu tour of the central business district as I walk from bookstore to bookstore in search of the title. One store raises my hopes as a woman gets up to check behind a counter but turns up empty. A lot of the bookstores seem designed to cater to students. Or those looking for Christian literature.

I give up. Checking the map I see that the train station is nearby, and I’m curious to see what it looks like. I check the time and text Oneal to let him know I might be running late.

The station is at the end of a road, a few blocks past the end of a pedestrian mall. The area feels more warehousey the closer I get. A man with alcohol on his breath tries to convince me he’s a guide or something but I walk past and ignore his protestations.

The station looks closed, but there’s a closed door with a sign announcing passenger tickets. I ask a man sitting outside if the station is open and he points to a man in uniform who informs me it is not.

Walking back towards the center I decide to stop into the Hyatt to see if they have a tourist shop with books. Inside I spot the first Chinese and white people I’ve seen outside the airport. Unfortunately, they sell no books inside.

I stroll across the street to the Africa Unity Square. A flower market lines the southwestern corner and I pick up my camera to take a photo of an arrangement of fake flowers. That’ll be five dollars, a man says. Ian gets up and tells me he’s joking. He introduces himself and tells me he’s been selling flowers here for around 12 years. He’s managed to buy a house and is putting his three children through school selling flowers.

He asks me where I’m from. I tell him and tell him I’ve come from Poland, accidentally saying by way of Dubai instead of Doha. Hetells me he has a cousin in Dubai. I ask him if his cousin likes it there. He tells me it’s not about whether you like the surroundings or not. He’s gone to make money, but he’ll be back someday.

He tells me Harare is nice. It’s full of people going about their lives without bother each other. I tell him I’ve found it very chill. Yes, he says. He asks if I’ve been to South Africa. I tell him I’m headed to Cape Town next. He tells me it’s not like here. You’d not have a casual conversation on the streets like we’re having.

He tells me that school’s starting this week and that everyone is having parties and buying flowers. It’s great for business. As if on cue, a man in a suit appears and Ian greets him as if they know each other. I leave him to his business. He tells me to wander by again later if I’m still walking around the area.

I’m running late. I head back towards the museum. Oneal calls to tell me he’s going to be five minutes late. I tell him it’s no problem; I’ll be there in ten. I had texted him earlier to see if we could meet at 15h, but I’m not sure he’d checked his messages.

I arrive at 14h40; Oneal shows up a bit after 15h. He apologies but I tell him not to worry. I was confusing with the times. He tells me it had taken longer to drop off his last passenger because of the traffic.

He asks me what I do and I tell him about my job. We then talk about Africa and how it’s been systematically kept down by the west. He laments the loans and strings placed on them designed to keep Africe weak. He talk about ivory as an example. Europeans don’t have elephants but Africa does but they can’t trade the ivory. And now they are culling elephant herds for preservation and nothing can be done with that ivory. Why?

He asks what I did in town and I tell him I was looking for a book. He asks me the title and when I tell him he says he knows the book. He asks if I went to Innovation books. Yes. They didn’t have it. Ah, he says. If they don’t no one will. He tells me he has my number and if he comes across it he’ll bring it to me.

We arrive back at the strip mall where we met and he parks in the lot so we can continue our chat for a little while longer before he has to go back to work. I hope we can meet again and save his number for the future.

For lunch I head across the street to Nandos and then head home. Safari Logistics has texted me again about my flight. They’ve it up and checkin is now at 08h30. I’ll find out later why.

At the front desk I ask what time I should leave to get to the airport. They tell me at 06h because of traffic and the start of school. Usually it shouldn’t take more than 30 minutes to get to the airport, but I trust the locals. I’ll have to go to bed early tonight. 🇿🇼