The Calm Before the Storm

A day off at our destination. The schedule was wide open and the final arrangements had to be made for the handing over ceremony. We took a drive over to the main fire station to meet the firemen and see what was happening with the existing equipment first hand. It was amazing and tragic. There were a number of old fire engines, my guess is about 10, all in various states of disrepair. Some had parts missing, others were visibly broken and many appeared to have not moved in a while. All of them were sun faded, with the once bright red paint having faded to a very dull maroon.  There was also a row of ambulances, maybe 20 of them, none of which ran. I would hate to have an emergency there but then where are they going to take you anyway. My understanding is that the hospitals are in the same sorry shape and are rife with HIV. Better to suffer and stay away, or use a witch doctor.While we were there we opened the lockers on the trucks that had been sealed in England to prevent pilferage. Guess what we found inside; a spaceman who sounded just like Peter

The alien from the locker

Peter and the chief, after the alien left

  While we were there they were trying to get a pump of some kind running, and despite input from a half dozen kibitzers, it wasn’t starting for anyone. They brought over a second machine and we saw that it was going to be used to lift the front of a fire truck so that one of the guys could crawl underneath and do some type of repair. Not only were the trucks broken, but the tools to repair them were almost non-existent. I certainly wouldn’t want to crawl under a heavy truck to do work if it were supported only by an airpump. They had no hydraulic equipment – amazing and scary. The chief came down to meet us and he is impressive. Despite overwhelming adversity, he was upbeat and focused on how he and his people could render whatever aid they could in fires and accidents. They cover a huge area, going up to 200km to fires and accidents, because the outlying areas have no equipment at all.

After lunch at a local craft center we went shopping for curios amd other Zim stuff.  It is unbelievable how much sculpture there is all over the city, and probably the country. Its almost like sculpting is the national pastime. Who needs baseball if you can hit a rock with a hammer. We went to an area where there were dozens of vendors, all outdoors, all selling soapstone or granite carvings of hippos, families, and a host of abstract images. These guys should take a page form the Chinese and learn how to make knockoffs or at least sign Picasso to the base. They also had chair weavers and furniture makers there, so you could watch them weave your seat.

Johnno making sure that there were no fabrics he wanted

Johnno once again demonstrated his thoroughness. I think he interviewed every vendor in the place and checked prices on every item.  He was the only one brave enough to buy one of the big ones, and by the time he tried extricating himself from the market he had been marked as a pidgeon. He was like the pied piper leading a clan of very aggressive hawkers, each with a quarry full of sculptures to sell. The problem with his buy was that it looked like a large Mobius strip and I am not sure how well it survived the journey home. It also was the size of a bread bin and weighed more than he could reasonably have been allowed to check in. We will soon find how good a packer he is.

We were told that we had been invited to a studio opening that evening, so we could hang out for the balance of the afternoon and then go over at about 6 for cocktails. Its amazing what a stir it causes when one drives into the parking lot in two firetrucks, and the guys that get out are in regular clothes. The studio belonged to an interior designer and driving into the grounds was beautiful. It was set in a small building with a beautiful view of the rolling hills around it. From there we went to dinner at another of Peters friends.  It was a house that could only be found in Africa, with a huge circular driveway and a thatched roof that covered not only the interior but also large outdoor space. The climate is so temperate that as long as you stay dry, no heating or a/c is necessary.  I was also amazed at how many of the people there smoke.  My guess is 80% inhale,and the good part is that cigars are fine and were on hand and no one moaned about the smell. So unlike NY where I was harassed by some asshole this weekend for walking down the promenade, with a nice fresh breeze blowing, smoking my stogie. He was very perturbed that he might inhale a smidge of second hand smoke as I walked by and was not shy in citing NY city statutes. We should send him to Zimbabwe.