Some friends I have made.

Since coming to Zimbabwe, I have made some great friends. These four are institute students, and like others I have come to love, all happened to show up at our institute class at the same time. In my opinion each of these will be bishops, stake presidents or general authorities. From left their first names are: Anyway, Bongani, Petros, and Tongai

This is another friend who is a little standoffish.

Saturday night we all attended a Boma Dinner (The word means a gathering). A lot of discussion preceded this event, so we were filled with anticipation upon our arrival. You might say it was an indoor / outdoor facility. When it rained, you could get wet depending on where you were standing or sitting. To accommodate the vast amount of storm water, the building was designed so that the thatched roofs would shed water at strategic locations on the floor. As we entered, we were given a wrap to put over one shoulder and our faces were painted some. The meal consisted of many selections, which included: Impala, Ostrich, Warthog, Brean (fish), and Crocodile Tale. Later, during the meal, a bowl of worms was passed around for all to sample. I had sworn prior that I would not eat one, but when picking one from the bowl (planning to make a picture, showing me eating a worm), I noticed it looked like a small piece of jerky, so, I thought to myself, I can do this. With much chanting in the background and pressure from others, especially my Mission President, I popped it into my mouth, chewed it slowly and swallowed— surprisingly, it was okay. To seal the event, I was given a certificate certifying I had eaten a worm.

A few days ago our housekeeper, Beauty, demonstrated to us how African women carry water on their heads. It was apparent that her head is not contoured to match the bottom of the bucket of water, which I would estimate to be about 45 pounds. She maintained balance simply by constantly moving her head, all this without using her hands. While doing do, she trotted along the street and even sat down on the curb and stood up again, without losing a drop. It was remarkable to see her do it. She was excited to show me, and I was very impressed to see the demonstration.

Kombis

Given the variety of things there are to talk about regarding our life and times in Africa, it is essential that the Kombi not be left out. Irrespective of the fact the word Kombi is not a proper noun, I have elected to capitalize it anyway. To bring perspective to this subject, the Kombi is Zimbabwe’s answer to America’s mass transit. Though other countries may make use of these seemingly independent vehicles, my focus is here in Harare Zimbabwe, where I now reside.

The Kombi not only provides a useful and effective transportation system, it is part of the culture here, and it really is a respectable industry. Presumably, in the large metropolitan area of Harare, it stands to reason that, due to the economic conditions here, a significant portion of the people are forced to use them for their transportation needs.

Understated, the Kombi is an interesting vehicle. Estimating, it is probably a foot or so narrower than the standard full-size van found in America, making it, I suppose, the width of a standard sedan. They say that a Kombi is designed for around 15 passengers, including the driver. However, to improve the profit margin, while resulting in some discomfort to the passengers, they actually seat four across—yes, four across—instead of three as designed. The back four seats each, now, have four passengers each, with the front having only three; this, I would surmise, allows the drive to have some mobility. I humbly refer to this as the shoulder-to-shoulder configuration, which, now, will accommodate up to 19 passengers (since writing this, have been told that they squeeze in as many as twenty-two). They will drive around until their vehicle is fully the loaded before proceeding along the route. It is seldom I see a Kombi that is not full.

It is obvious that many do not have sufficient air pressure in their tires, especially the rear ones. This obviously reduces their gas mileage and creates excessive ware on the tires. I would like to share that tidbit of information with the drivers, but up to now, at least, I have been able to restrain myself.

As a fortunate observer, sitting in another vehicle, riding in a Kombi looks to be very uncomfortable, especially when you consider that some may have forgotten to take a bath or shower that morning, and the mercury is near to top of the tube. I was told this by an African friend after telling him that I needed the experience of riding in a Kombi.

The style and size of a Kombi does not vary. However, the colors and paint jobs do. Most are clean and professional looking. Others, however, could easily be classified as junk. On the back of each, a required sign reads: MAXIMUM SPEED, 80 km/h WIDE Tar, 60 km/h OTHER ROADS. To create personality and generate more income, many are covered with large sponsor logos and signs.

Kombis are everywhere. It is not unusual for there to be four or five of them on every block. They, uncontrollably, dart into and out of traffic, stop in the middle of the street for an extended period of time, appear to break every traffic law on the books, and seemingly have little regard for other vehicles on the road. I witnessed a Kombi driving out in a field, and was informed that he was trying to evade the police. The police set up barricades or traffic stops for the purpose of extracting profits from the Kombi drivers, not through justified traffic tickets, but through a routine bribe the Kombi drivers have to suffer. I am comfortable that the cause of this problem, in a large measure, stems from the fact that the person riding on the passenger side of the front seat is constantly telling the driver when it is clear to go, when to stop and the condition of traffic, which is not a failsafe situation.

There are turnouts alongside the roadways to accommodate the loading and unloading (I don’t get the word offloading. It has never made sense to me, and I refuse to use it) of passengers. Near any turnout, you will eventually see in an approaching Kombi, a man sitting in an open window, on the left side, second seat back, with most of his body on the outside of the vehicle; yelling out, in Shona or an unrecognizable English accent, the next destination of his route. It is interesting to watch, and a little humorous at first, but functional just the same.