Why are we always running late?

There is one thing that we Zimbabweans are so averse to, and that is keeping time. I’ve met dozens of people who are always running late (and that, of course includes me.) Many of them have apparently never heard of that great invention called the watch.

Among those who have received news about the technological breakthrough, some consider a watch nothing more than a piece of jewellery. If it didn’t display the time, they wouldn’t care, as long as it displayed important information such as "Seiko" or "Rolex."

Most of us have never owned a watch. We think they can do without one, even though we don’t work for the civil service. If I have an important appointment, I try to keep track of time by looking at the sun. If not, I rely on people around me. I last wore a watch in 1996 when I was overseas where time is money. The idea was to sell it immediately I back home. You see, here, money is money. Never forget the danger of being mugged as well.

Of the public clocks that we have here in Bulawayo, its only the one at the City Hall that works most of the time. The one at the Main Post Office has never worked for as long as I can remember. I need not mention the one at the High Court. I’m sure it got stuck at that time when some notorious criminal was hanged ages ago. In fact, there are some who believe that Bulawayo is the city where time stood still. If you compare us to Harare interms of development, that is.

Women are classic time wasters. If one is expected to be at a function at 6pm, one would assume that if you are ready to leave before 5.30pm, you are bound to get there right on time. But the woman has only just entered the bathroom, which means that you still have enough time to read a 200-page novel. Most women in their defence are much better at keeping time than many people I know. And I say that not just because I hate sleeping on the sofa.

People from certain countries seem more inclined to be late. For example, if a Swede invited a Zimbabwean and an Indian to lunch at 1pm, the Zimbabwean will arrive at 3pm, unless he gets a lift from his Indian friend, in which case they will both arrive just in time for supper. And neither of them will act as if anything went wrong.

"Apologise? What for? We got here on the same day!"

My friends at our social soccer club Amavevane have tried to adjust to this chronic disease. For example, if we want to play social soccer at 11pm we ask team members to assemble at 9am for them to arrive at 11am, ensuring that the game will start promptly at 1pm. It's far much better than buying them expensive watches.

However, we will never beat the National Railways of Zimbabwe’s shoddy record of constantly not keeping to their timetable. With such a record, who needs a timetable? The night train leaves late as a matter of principle. Never mind the fact that it arrives in Harare a full day later. Remember, why apologise, at least it arrives this century. The chaps at the NRZ perhaps may rest assured that they fare better than Air Zimbabwe, whose planes never seem to take off.

I have bosses who are very irritated when meeting starts late. Never mind the fact that very little if anything is achieved at these marathon meetings, as long as it starts on time, everything is fine. Perhaps I should buy myself those huge clocks to hang around my necks as a reminder that I should not waste other peoples’ time. In any event, which mugger would find a Zobo clock attractive?

Not just another can of worms

Hurrah, they are here! My favorite dish has crawled back onto my late after an absence of close to two painful years! I had a fried plate last night and look forward to the cooked creepy crawlies tomorrow! Wanna puke? Don't do it here my dear friend, but then it could be worse. Take those who choose to feast on crab, snail (or is it escargot?) horse, snake, insect, frog, grub, lizard, rat, bat, cat, dog, grasshopper, octopus, tortoise, seal, lobster, prawns, eel, or monkey. Me, I just go for mopane worms.

The caterpillars of the anomalous emperor moth Imbrasia belina, mopane worms are a culinary sensation here in Zimbabwe and the rest of Central and Southern Africa. They are named after the Mopane, a tree that is common in semi-arid areas whose big clover-like leaves are what the worms feast on during metamorphosis. For the poverty stricken people of the region, the Mopane worm, or amacimbi in the local language, is manna from heaven.

The guts are removed through squeezing and the worms are then boiled and left for a day to dry out in the sun. Once dried, they can be used at any time for cooking and the result is a juicy and salty treat.

The Mopane worm has all but replaced traditional agricultural produce as a source of nutrition and income. From the onset of the rain season, when the Mopane forms its telltale leaves, the worms emerge from their cocoons and crawl down the tree. So do worm gatherers from all corners for the harvest.

The worm catching is in itself a spectacle to behold. Scores of people are fanned across the sparse bushes, carrying containers of every conceivable shape and size, filling them to the brim with nature's bounty. The worms are a delicacy mainly among the black population. Connoisseurs say that there are more than 20 ways to prepare the mopane worm dishes. Take them fried as a snack, cooked with tomatoes and onions, boiled or simply dried (See recipes below.) One enterprising entrepreneur has even contemplated canning them.

Whichever way they are prepared, health experts wax lyrical about the dietary advantages of Mopane worms. They more contain protein and roughage than ordinary oats. Posters at health centers in the rural areas recommend the worms as supplement for pregnant women and those living with HIV.

There are those among us who would only eat Mopane worms at gunpoint. The reason is purely psychological. Admittedly, it takes one some time to acquire the taste. One just has to get over the initial phobia that associates the worms with other creepy-crawlies, experts say. In some cases this is blamed on adults who discouraged their children from eating the worms at an early age. This is in spite of the fact that the adults themselves grew up on a diet of worms.

The edible worms are just irresistible in a continent where hunger and famine stalks the land. Their respect knows no borders. They can be found gracing the dinner tables of many households in South Africa, Zambia, Namibia, Botswana and Mozambique. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) demand is outstripping supply with a kilogram fetching as much as US$5.

However, there are parts of the continent where the worms are, let’s say, despised. During a trip to Uganda in 1994, the writer attracted strange looks from his hosts when he tried to convince them that there was absolutely nothing wrong with having Mopane worms for dinner. A glossy magazine article that I presented as evidence, including graphic color photographs, only made things worse. In freezing Sweden, Scandinavian hosts could hardly disguise their shock when their Zimbabwean guests attempted to allay their fears describing in graphic detail how good the grubs tasted like. What else besides these awful things did these people eat, they wondered.

Back in Zimbabwe, hundreds of people flock to the southern regions from all corners to get a piece of the action. Predictably, politicians have also waded into the fray. Here, anything that smells of money attracts politicians like flies to a carcass. Government officials complain about the exploitation of poor rural villagers by unscrupulous traders who peg the price at 500,000 Zimbabwean dollars (US$4) for a 20-litre bucket. The going market rate is US$5 a kilogram in the DRC.

Local authorities in areas where Mopane worms are harvested have been vigorously campaigning for a ban on 'outsiders' cashing in on what is regarded by them as an exclusive resource. The issue has turned political and emotions run high at harvest time when scuffles break out between villagers and traders from the city. In Botswana, landowners charge the gatherers a fee for both camping on their property and harvesting.

These traders are sometimes accused of showing little respect for local customs and in turn, the environment. They needlessly chop down trees and desecrate sacred traditional shrines. At least one local authority is issuing licenses to approved traders while others insist on the locals doing the picking themselves and later selling the worms at set prices.

Unfortunately, at the height of the worm-picking season, poor and desperate villagers accept anything they are offered in return, from bags of corn meal, cups and plates to items of clothing in exchange for buckets of the worms. This has made them easy picking for unscrupulous buyers who are out to make a quick and easy buck.

Mopane worms are the salvation to an economically depressed and poverty stricken region. For a continent always reaching out its hand for assistance, the worms offer an opportunity for its people to improve their wretched lives. And they are not going to let any outsider take away their God given right.

RECIPES

Mopane Worm Stew
Ingredients: Dried mopane worms, Tomato (sliced), Onions (chopped), butter or cooking oil, chili sauce (to taste,) salt, pepper and garlic salt to taste Method:

Soak mopane worms in water until soft.
Fry onions in butter or cooking oil.
Add rest of ingredients and cook over slow heat until tender.
Serve with isitswala or sadza (pap or maize meal.)

Method 2
Ingredients 1 cup of dried mopane worms, 1 onion, chopped, 2 green peppers, sliced, 6 tomatoes, diced, 1 tablespoon curry powder, and ½ litre water.

Preparation Wash the worms and boil them for 30 minutes. Drain, then add the rest of the ingredients and simmer for about an hour.

Mopane worms can also be soaked then fried to a crispy TV snack. Yum, yum, yum!

Waiting for a miracle?

It was in the twilight of the year 2001 that I sat with the chaps in the Dog Section of Selbourne hotel. So called because of the barred windows that only allow those outside a cursory glimpse of what goes on inside. The inhabitants have the privilege of scanning the landscape and the creatures that populate it - including various species of the opposite sex who will be totally unaware that they are being watched. ‘Oggled’ is the correct word for it.

All this is beside the point. The Dog Section refers to the King’s Head bar, melting pot of every opinion about every subject under the sun. The characters therein are as eccentric as the shades of opinion they are wont to defend. So the subject of the political dispensation in Zimbabwe was not so far fetched. Here was bound to be differences. In fact a wide chasm was soon to appear. On the one side where those who were optimistic that Zimbabwe had reached rock bottom and that the only way was up.

The Constitutional Referendum was all but a few months away and we were confident that the people would reject it. Not so much because it was being driven by Zanu PF, but because even at face value, it was an obnoxious piece of paper. The other end of the scale was bent on pooping the party, saying that the rejection of the constitution would be a big mistake and a missed opportunity for Zimbabweans to turn a new leaf. Up until today I am convinced those that supported that school of thought new something that the rest of us didn’t.

Six land and arduous years later, after the war vet pensions, land invasions, The DRC war and Jonathan Moyo we are far worse off than we ever imagined. We blame the government of gross mismanagement and they blame Tony Blair and George Bush. Evidently the chasm is on how we will ever get out of this rut. In fact, most of the population has lost hope that solution will ever come out of the current crop of leaders who are not only clueless but they seem not to give a damn.

Blame storming will get us nowhere. This is why I have resolved to take a different course of action in 2006 and beyond. I have stopped complaining about what his government is doing to me and the rest of us, that is, screwing us into the ground. I avoid answering greeting in the negative. I will look for opportunities where others see none. I refuse to wallow in despair and dejection. I have a talent, nay, talents that I can use to lift myself, family and community from the rut. The reality is that my patience is wearing thin, I hit 42 this year, and clearly time is not on my side.

While the rest are waiting for a miracle that may never come, I will create that miracle. You will know that I am there, making a difference, getting fabulously successful and wealthy and having a good time while doing it. Love or hate me, I will be in your face…permanently. Just you watch me. God help me.