Sabbatical Journey in Southern Africa

 September 19 - December 2, 1993

 
Sunday, September 19, 1993

This is the beginning of my second African adventure, a Canadian Teachers' Federation (CTF) project to visit and work with four teacher organizations in southern Africa.  I leave my St Albert home at 5:00 in the morning for a taxi ride to the International Airport and a flight to Toronto.  This will be the first leg on a trip that will take me to four countries (six, including a 30 minute stop in Swaziland on the flight from Mozambique to Harare, Zimbabwe, plus numerous transfers at Johannesburg, South Africa) and see me fly more than 38,000 kilometres.  During the next ten weeks, I will become acquainted with the operations of teacher organizations in Lesotho, Botswana, Mozambique and Zimbabwe. 

Today, Canadian Airlines International flies me to Toronto where I spend the afternoon and evening with my daughter Galien, a student at the National Ballet School.  As usual on these visits, we head off to the Harbour Front via the new street car route that takes us down past the Queen's Quay.  Berthed out front is the Bluenose and we take a quick tour of this copy of the famous Canadian "dime" ship.  Then it's back to my hotel for a movie.  Galien has brought her new pointe shoes with her.  She sews ribbons on one while I, much more slowly, sew them on the other.  This is just one of the many exotic skills that come to the father of a serious dancer.

Monday, September 20

I will leave for London later this afternoon but first I visit Galien's ballet and pointe classes.  In my eyes she dances like no one else.  In between classes, I get a haircut and pick up a few last minute items at the Bay on Bloor Street.  I leave Galien at the door of the residence amidst tears and the best farewell gift a father can receive: "I love you, Dad".  British Airways  takes me away at 8:00 pm for an over-night flight to London.

Tuesday, September 21

Arriving over London, the big 747 settles on its approach to Heathrow Airport.  About a kilometre from the end of the runway, the pilot executes a missed approach, as the airplane landing in front of us did not clear the runway as quickly as it should have.  Having burned about 100 tons of fuel on the flight across the Atlantic, the now relatively light jumbo jet quickly soars back up to about 7,000 feet for another approach.  In the terminal, I check my big suitcase (all 29 kilograms of it) at the luggage storage room, have a coffee, and then head into town on the Underground for a visit to The Imperial War Museum.  Rather!  A bit of wandering around after that and I begin to tire.  The Underground takes me back to Heathrow where I give away my transit pass to a visiting Japanese girl.  I check in at the British Airways counter for the flight to Johannesburg then watch a pair of Concordes land and depart.  Rather! Again!  I discover a shower stall near the departures lounge and have one.  $4.00 well spent.  At 9:00 pm I depart for an eleven-hour flight to Johannesburg on a new 747-400 and a further two-hour flight to Maseru, Lesotho on a Canadian built de Haviland Twin Otter. 

Wednesday, September 22

I arrive in Johannesburg after a very long flight.  I go through immigration but the officer suggests that I just stay in the reception area until my next flight on to Maseru.  A British Airways agent helps me collect my luggage and then sends it over to Air Lesotho for me.  I walk up to the departure lounge and promptly see Frank Garriety of the Saskatchewan Teachers' Federation.  He is waiting on a flight out to Namibia to do essentially what I am to do in the countries assigned to me.  We have coffee together then my flight is called.  Flying at 12000 feet in an unpressurized airplane has me taking a lot of deep breaths. 

Passing over South African towns at this altitude, evidence of the "separation of the races" becomes very clear.  The parts of the towns where the whites live are neat and orderly.  Black neighbourhoods appear squalid and very separate.  Approaching Lesotho, the mountains, plateaus and washouts come into view - very desolate looking country - with sandstone and, at higher levels, volcanic outcrops.  There is a lot of red soil near the "lowlands" of Lesotho where we land.  Maseru is situated 5620 feet above sea level, about 1400 feet higher than the townsite of Banff, and the country just keeps going up from there.  Lesotho is known as the "rooftop of Africa".  I am met at King Moshoeshoe airport by Kay Chimombe, president of the Lesotho Association of Teachers' (LAT) and, following a short visit to his school, we head into town to check me in at the Maseru Sun hotel. I spend a few minutes writing entries in this journal and then sleep for about four hours.  As I sleep, I dream the most realistic dream about what I will have to do to get a load of two-by-four lumber into my hotel room to make a proper floor.  Should I bring it in through the patio doors or drag it up the stairs and down the hall?  Completing a patio deck at home just before leaving for twenty hours or so in a jet can do this to you.  Ezra November, the General Secretary of LAT, comes to get me for supper and I slowly return to reality. 

Thursday, September 23

Today is my first day at the LAT offices.  These are located on Kingsway Avenue, the main thoroughfare of Maseru, a fifteen minute walk from the hotel.  I spend the morning with Paul Sematlane, the young man just hired to serve as LAT's first full-time staff officer, and Mapule Mundoma, LAT's secretary.  In the afternoon, I visit with teachers who have stopped by the office on business.  The offices have the look of a place that has been used by people in transit, a place with no permanent residents.  There are stacks of boxes behind doors, pictures of departed Project Overseas teams, a computer and printer unplugged and unused but carefully stored under plastic wraps.  Paul and I talk about what we might do to turn the place into a professional looking office.  Mapule looks on with what I detect is a degree of scepticism.  Together, we move the computer closer to a plug-in and turn it on.  Someone has loaded "WordPerfect" and it works just fine but, of course, no "Windows".  A meeting that was planned with Kay Chimombe, Ezra November, Sister Lephoto (the treasurer) and Paul for the late afternoon had to be cancelled as two could not attend.  I return to the Sun for supper, good food but rather heavy stuff, and some sketching of possible office layout revisions.

Friday, September 24

Today seems to get off to a slow start.  I can't seem to get anyone's attention to do much.  I spend time on the computer, slowly learning keyboard commands, and visit with several teachers.  I leave in the early afternoon and wander around Maseru for awhile.  Ezra and Kay are meeting with the Minister of Education and said they would meet me at the hotel afterward.  They didn't.  Therefore, I did not learn where the women's workshop, scheduled for tomorrow, is to be held.  

Saturday, September 25

Hopeful that Ezra or Kay will call, I arise early and get ready to go.  No such luck.  I spend the day walking the town and purchase some in-room snacks at the OK food store.  I also pick up an easy reference book on "WordPerfect".  Lunch at pool side and the afternoon spent studying how to do word processing without benefit of windows.  The hotel, a former Holiday Inn, is very nice and staffed with friendly and helpful people.  It comes complete with a slot machine casino, which never seems to close.  I will take some pictures tomorrow.

Sunday, September 26

I sleep late, then wander the hotel grounds and take a major hike around the city.  I pass the Chinese and United States embassies (the Chinese buildings look abandoned), travel up King Moshoeshoe Road to the industrial area, past the House of Parliament, the Royal Palace and back downtown.  I follow this with a beer at the pool-side, supper and an early bedtime.  I'm still a bit dispirited by the absence of use of me by the LAT people. 

Monday, September 27

Today I will be interviewed on Lesotho Television.  I dress to the "nines" in my dark summer weight suit, including the leopard tie that Rebecca gave me as a going-away gift.  The interview seems quite successful and runs for about twenty minutes.  There will be a clip tonight on the news and a full airing on Wednesday.  Back at the office, Mapule and I learn some more about the computer and Paul reviews some office reorganization plans.

Tuesday, September 28

Today, it's jeans and sneakers.  Mapule, Paul and I really go to town on changing the setup of the two office rooms.  The photocopier and the computer, which once resided in "the boy's room," are moved to Mapule's office.  We set up a reception area there as well.  This makes room in Paul's office for a better workspace for him as well as a small conference area.  Old posters, maps, photographs and trivia are removed from the walls and are replaced with beautiful posters of Lesotho that I bought at the tourist office.  This really feels like a good day and the results of our hard work show clearly.  Mapule seems pretty enthusiastic about having the electronic toys on her side where they can now be put to work.

Wednesday, September 29

Today is a bit anti-climactic after our successes yesterday.  Mapule continues to learn about the computer and has now completed her first extensive document on WordPerfect.  I'm even becoming a bit more comfortable in this non-windows environment and that should prove useful when I encounter the computer in my office at Barnett House.  I help Paul with an application to UNESCO for funding then leave early for the hotel.  After a snooze and supper, I begin reviewing legislation affecting Lesotho teachers.  I will complete a critique of the teaching regulations and the LAT constitution after the big local leaders' in-service planned for next week.  Tomorrow, we attack the files.

Thursday, September 30

Busy day today with lots of print production for the leaders' workshop.  We get the UNESCO application completed and dabble with the files.

Friday, October 1

Meet with Ezra today to finalize the workshop agenda.  Busy day again with lots of computer work.  Mapule is progressing well and writes two memos today with no help from me.  Maseru finally gets some rain in the evening.  It has been very dry here and the rain is welcome.  Tomorrow is free until 5:00 pm when I go to meet delegates to the workshop which runs Sunday to Tuesday noon.  Another two weeks here- time goes so quickly- then back to Johannesburg and on to Botswana.  Getting lonely.  Sure miss Reb and the kids.

Saturday, October 2

Odd kind of day.  I sleep in, have a long breakfast and watch a terrific rainstorm.  At 12:45, I walk into town to buy a book but just miss the stores closing.  Probably just as well as the cost of an average pocket book is the equivalent of $US16.  Watch some TV, do more work on the constitution.  No one comes to pick me up for the workshop.

Sunday, October 3

Ezra comes by at 8:15 and off we go for the first day of the workshop for LAT district officials.  The session is held at the Anglican Church compound and church is in session as we arrive.  I peek through the doors of the old sandstone cathedral and am promptly hauled into the auditorium by a visiting lay preacher from Massachusetts.  The workshop runs for the full day and I'm impressed by the dedication of the teachers attending.

Monday, October 4

Second day of the leaders' workshop and I get about one third of the program.  The day seems productive but talking about the importance of budgets to organizations puts some of my audience to sleep after lunch.  The lunches are cooked by the Anglican sisters and are really "home made", a welcome change from hotel fare.  In the evening, I return to the workshop to listen to two women lawyers, one of whom is the wife of Kay Chimombe, LAT President, talk about the laws of Lesotho and how they affect women most unfairly.  A woman, once married, legally becomes the equivalent of a child of her husband and can own nothing in her own name.  This is a good session followed by a brief social.

Tuesday, October 5

The workshop ends at 2:00 pm today, after our usual home cooked lunch.  A good session this morning with Ezra and me presenting.  At the closing ceremony, the Lesotho national anthem is sung and a prayer delivered.  I am thanked for my participation and told to have a "white" trip for the remainder of my travels in Africa.  This blessing engenders a good deal of laughter and Ezra explains that in the Sesotho language, white means "good" or "safe".  I spend the remainder of the day at the hotel as the country is closed for the National Day weekend.

Wednesday, October 6

On the way to LAT this morning, I stop at the World University Services of Canada (WUSC) office, just down from the hotel on Orpen Road.  WUSC is located in an old sandstone house of the type that appears all over Maseru.  It was once the office of the Canadian High Commissioner, who now represents Canada from Pretoria.  I meet David Moore and his crew and take a liking to them.  We talk about education options in Lesotho and I let him know that Allan Bacon, President of CTF and Bob Barker, CTF International Programs Director, will be visiting Lesotho early in November.  On to the office and more work with Mapule on the computer and some time on the files.  Feeling tired in the afternoon (I'm still not used to the elevation), I wander home, stopping at a store that sells used books.  A treasure is unearthed - a book about flying P-39 fighter aircraft in the Pacific War, for just 5 Rand!

Thursday, October 7

I stop at WUSC again this morning and deliver some information David had requested.  I suggest he send a fax to Barnett House to see if we can locate some teachers planning to take early retirement who might be interested in serving as resource teachers in Lesotho for a year or two.  At LAT, Paul and I generate a planning calendar for the Association and Mapule enters it into the computer.  We're making great strides in the world of high tech!

Friday, October 8

Work until about 2:00 pm today on a review of the LAT recognition agreement.  The government does not officially recognize LAT as the voice of the teaching profession but is moving closer to that idea.  How lucky we are in Alberta to have the Teaching Profession Act, even with its imperfections.  All of the organizations I will visit on this trip are striving for some form of official recognition from their respective governments.

Saturday, October 9

I have the office to myself today and I use the opportunity to write out on the computer constitutional changes that LAT might want to consider.  Ezra visits a couple of times during the morning to make sure I'm OK.  In the afternoon, I buy a "Lesotho bus", a hand-made toy built from scrap galvanized metal, from a vendor in the market.  Tomorrow, Kay and Ezra are taking me for a drive up into the mountains.  Should be a nice break.

Sunday, October 10

A beautiful day for a drive and Ezra and Kay pick me up at 9:30.  It takes about an hour to get cars sorted out- Kay's son was trying to repair a van for us to use but he couldn't find parts.  We head east in Ezra's old VW Rabbit (the "bicycle", as he calls it) and begin the spectacular climb up into the mountains.  The road is paved but narrow and guard rails along the edges are no more than wishful thinking.  Higher up, the car is "ambushed" on tight curves by children trying to sell crystal rocks they have found in the hills.  We arrive at the summit of God Help Me Pass and stop for lunch at a beautiful little lodge.  The young crystal salespeople are here as well and when I offer to buy some I nearly start a riot by not buying a piece from each of the children who seem to materialize out of thin air.  We head back down (from 7500 feet to a mere 5200 feet) and stop along the way at the fortress of old King Moshoeshoe.  From this high rocky ledge, the King and his followers kept the whites and the Zulus at bay by rolling rocks down on any warrior stupid enough to attempt the climb up.  At the foot of the ledge is the pulpit built for a later, more peaceful event, the visit of Pope John Paul II.  Finally get to see the far distant horizon, something this old prairie boy can't see in Maseru.

Monday, October 11

Monday morning finds me back at the office doing "Monday morning at the office" kinds of things.  Mapule is becoming quite an enthusiastic computer user and likes to show me how the memory of the machine is filling up.  In the afternoon, I visit the National Teacher Training College with Kay, Ezra and Paul and get a good sense of the interests of novice Lesotho teachers.  The LAT folk do a good job of representing the Association and explaining what a strong teachers' organization can do for the profession and for education in general.  On November 1, CTF will present LAT with a new vehicle which will be used by the new full-time staff officer to reach teachers and to better serve and represent them.  This is part of the message.  The other part is that LAT is highly regarded by international teacher organizations and teachers should take pride in that recognition.  After the meeting, Ezra drops me off at the Lancer's Inn, an old "motel" in the centre of the city.  I had been invited there by Del and Loreen Horan, retired Canadian expatriates.  He is working on telecommunications projects here and in Mauritius and has also worked in Swaziland.  Two other couples join us, one from Calgary and one from Holland.  Spaghetti, wine and pleasant company make for a most enjoyable evening.

Tuesday, October 12 

Back at the office, Mapule and I really get cracking on the files.  This is a big job and one that has been neglected for too long.  The "files" include not just documents from the history of the Association, but also souvenirs from visits to other countries, old exams, personal items left behind by departed officials and squares of floor carpet from an earlier office.  Just sifting through this stuff is daunting but we persevere and haul a huge amount of junk out to the garbage.  What is left is set aside for Mapule to properly jacket and re-file on another day.  Back at the hotel, I lay down for a snooze before going down for supper.

Wednesday, October 13

I wake up at 6:30 in the morning after sleeping for twelve hours!  More heavy slogging on the files today and we continue to toss out reams of old information.  Ezra comes by after his school ends in the afternoon and drives me home.  He is an easy man to admire and, with Kay, has given a great deal to see that the organization grows and prospers.  Hope he doesn't mind how much junk I have thrown out these past few days (if he ever finds out!).

Thursday, October 14

Yet more work on the files today but I also finish a paper on my observations and recommendations for the organization.  In the afternoon, Paul, Sister Lephoto and Ezra join me in a meeting to review what I have suggested.  And we finally get the "board room" cleared of the last boxes of carpet squares when Sister takes them away to her school in her truck.  Returning from the hotel after a break, I pass a little girl of about five or six years selling newspapers on the sidewalk.  Something about her makes me turn back to buy one (written in Sesotho!).  "I haven't any change," she says when I give her a two Rand note.  "That's OK", and I walk away.  Looking back, she is still smiling at me and I realize she reminds me so much of my little girl, Kalie.  My heart nearly breaks as I smile, wave, and walk on.

Friday, October 15

This morning, we toss out the last of seven years of accumulated junk.  Then the carpet cleaners show up.  I send Paul and Mapula away for lunch and stay to help the cleaners move chairs, tables and (much lighter) filing cabinets.  When the cleaners leave, I replace everything and I'm impressed with what we have done.  The place really looks nice, very clean and professional with the computer and printer in place, file cabinets and copier looking smart, and the "executive" office in top shape.  Paul and Mapule return at 2:00 pm and I leave for the hotel to start packing.  A telephone call from Mapule to thank me for my visit sends me back to the office to drop off two small gifts for my new friends.  At 6:00 pm, Ezra calls to take me to supper.  It's raining like mad and the wipers on Ezra's old "bicycle", as he calls his VW, don't work really well.  We navigate to the restaurant, have a nice meal and leave fairly early as Ezra has a field trip with his students at five o'clock tomorrow morning.  We make it back to the hotel in the driving rain and Ezra drops me off.  On farewell, he presents me with a Lesotho straw hat "for when it's very hot" and a pair of sheepskin slippers "for when you return to Canada and it's very cold!"

Saturday, October 16

Up at seven o'clock as usual, down for breakfast and then I finish packing.  I wait for the hotel bus to take me to the airport and meanwhile drop off a note to the hotel manager thanking him and his staff for the excellent care they provided to me.  I have thanked as many of the staff in person as I could because they really did help make my stay in Lesotho most enjoyable.  With me in the hotel van is a university professor from New Zealand, Michael Nichols.  He has become a bit of a friend and is in Lesotho working for the UN Food and Agricultural Organization on his specialty, asparagus!  At the airport check-in, it seems that my suitcase is a tad overweight and Lesotho Airlines charges me 98 Rand to put it on the airplane.  The trusty old de Haviland Twin Otter carries me and my heavy luggage back to Johannesburg where, once again, I do not clear customs but board an Air Botswana ATR 42 for a nice flight to Gaborone.  I'm met there by Leepile Lefanya, the full-time executive secretary of the Botswana Teachers' Union (BTU), and he drives me into town in the BTU truck.  He has made a reservation for me at the President Hotel in the heart of Gaborone.  The hotel has seen better days.  The air conditioner in my room doesn't and in the evening the room gets very hot.  I can't get to sleep and begin to worry about silly things, missing everyone, feeling bad and wishing I were home- the usual first night in a new place.  Near midnight the rains come with a vengeance and beat on the tin roof of the restaurant just outside my window (open in the hope of catching any breeze).  Not much sleep tonight but things will look better in the morning.

Sunday, October 17

At 8:30, the president, general secretary, treasurer, assistant general secretary and executive secretary all show up at my hotel room for a meeting.  It goes rather well and we have a chance to exchange views and ideas about what I can do while here, a chance I didn't have in Lesotho with the LAT people.  They seem to be a rather sober group and not as exuberant as my friends in Maseru.  Very rainy and overcast today but this helps keep the room from getting too hot and muggy.  The maintenance man is supposed to come and fix the air conditioner but I'm going to check rates at the new Sheraton hotel, just in case.  I wander around the city a bit today and plot out the finances.  They seem to be using up faster than expected.  On these slow days, I miss my family and home more than I can say but once things get busy these sojourns really are a lot of fun.

Monday, October 18

Japhta Radibe, the BTU President, comes and collects me at 8:30 and we drive out to the BTU office in the village of Mogoditshane, just on the outskirts of Gaborone.  Lots of money has been spent in Gabarone on roads and new buildings.  However, once off the main roads, one just bumps along sandy tracks through villages and countryside.  The office is located on such a track.  The large one-story building contains four office bays that are rented to the Ministry of Education as well as a meeting room and office area for BTU purposes.  Around the main building in the complex are four houses and an outdoor kitchen, all owned by the Union.  The teachers have owned these buildings for several years and want to eventually establish similar centres all around the country.  Japhta and I visit with Leepile and he gives me a rundown on the kinds of things he is trying to accomplish.  At noon, we head back to the President Hotel for lunch.  The food is not great but Jahpta eats a ton of it.  At 2:00 pm, we visit the Permanent Secretary of Education, Mr Molosi, a Canadian-trained political scientist and, apparently, God's gift to education in Botswana.  The teachers don't see eye-to-eye with this fellow and I can understand why.  Our visit, however, is pleasant enough.  We then tour around the University of Botswana after which Japhta drops me off at the hotel.  Another dismal evening in this place.

Tuesday, October 19

More visits with Japhta today.  First, I meet the long-serving former general secretary of BTU, Life Ramatebele.  He now works for the Ministry and seems like a friend of the teachers.  He is  supportive of getting government recognition for the Union but that still seems to be in the future.  We then head back out to the office but Leepile is very busy on the phone and its hard to get anything going, apart from exploring through some of the files.  Driving back into town, we stop at the new Sheraton Hotel to check rates.  It's about $2.50 per day cheaper than the President, it's closer to the BTU office, and I'm moving in!  My last night in the President and I'm not going to miss this place.

Wednesday, October 20

I'm up at 6:00 to pack, shave and shower, have breakfast and cash a traveller's cheque at Barclays Bank.  Then back to the hotel to haul my luggage down and check out.  Japhta picks me up in his 4WD Toyota truck and, Halleluiah, hello Sheraton!  Japhta then leaves for a three hour cross-country drive back to his school.  There is no one in the office today so I stay at the hotel and get settled in.

Thursday, October 21

Leepile picks me up and we head out to the office.  He has some travelling to do today and so we leave for the town of Molepolole then across country on a sand track to the town of Kanye.  We see quite a few teachers in various schools and do a fair bit of union business.  On the way back up the track, we see giant millipedes on the road.  Passing a cave, famous in local legends as the place where, long ago, witches were thrown to their death, we come across a family of baboons.  By the time I get the telephoto lens on my camera, they have disappeared into the bush but at least I get a good look at my first African wildlife.  Of course, that doesn't include the variety of salamanders I have seen, particularly two, foot-long examples which live on the front of the Sheraton hotel, or the weaver birds building hanging nests in the trees out front.  A good day today, meeting teachers and seeing something of the country.

Friday, October 22

Stayed at the hotel today and did a lot of writing.  Leepile came by for a visit at lunch time and I carried on afterward with a reworked version of a recognition agreement for BTU.  Wondering how much good I have done here in Botswana so far and concluding not much.  However, I have a pretty good idea what is required.  We need to send in a couple of people like Winston Nettleton and Earl Hjelter to run an intensive bargaining workshop for the staff of the Southern African Teachers' Organizations (SATO).  Teaching seems to get a lot of support here on the training side but damn little in terms of decent salaries for teachers.  We need to send in a couple of "hard cases" to raise a little hell and to let these folk know how bargaining ought to take place.  Today marks the end of one month in Africa.

Saturday, October 23

More work on the recognition agreement and it's finished.  I take my notes down to the hotel's business centre for typing.  I miss not having a computer to work on.  Leepile picks me up at 1:00 pm and we go into town for lunch with a committee of teachers who have been working on plans to begin a teachers'  credit union.  Lunch is at an Indian restaurant called TAJ and I have nan (fried bread) with beef in a curry sauce - delicious.  Back to the hotel for a walk around the nature trail and some CNN International for an update on the Canadian election.

Sunday, October 24

A lazy day today.  I work on a budget document and update my journal under an umbrella by the pool.  Meet a fellow Canadian this morning while watching the weaver birds.  He is teaching at the University of Botswana and is on leave from the school of veterinary medicine at the University of Prince Edward Island.  Knows a thing or two about birds.  Tomorrow, it's off to Lobatse, a community in the most southerly part of Botswana.

Monday, October 25

Spend the morning at the office with Leepile and the two "boys from Missoula" and really get busy reorganizing the files.  I think I must be the world's most expensive house cleaner.  The boys are serving a year of what is known as national service, volunteer work carried out by graduating students.  Both had been to Missoula, Montana in July as part of a touring choir from Botswana.  I find that a remarkable coincidence.  As we sort through years of old material, copies of the ATA Magazine and ATA News keep showing up.  There are issues of the Magazine with my daughters Galien and Kalie on the covers, copies of the News with me and brother Dick in stories, and a picture of son Harley piping in an ARA head table.  I also find a complete information package, circa 1980, on Indian Head, Saskatchewan, a community where I still own part of a farm.

In the afternoon, Leepile and I drive to Lobatse, about 80 kilometres south of Gabarone, to get some documents signed.  We stop at Botswana's first teacher training college to see a woman I had met earlier in Kanye.  She has an office along the side of one of the buildings and she sits there at her desk, completely covered in flies!  God!  We then head home after a stop to meet Leepile's brother, Brutus, the "carefree" member of the clan, who is a chief mechanic, boxer, bachelor and bon vivant.

Tuesday, October 26

More house cleaning at the office.  The place is starting to look  a bit better by noon when we head into town to look at computers and to get a quote on some goodies.  BTU is getting a grant from the Norwegian Teachers Organization to buy a system.  I meet Leepile's sister-in-law, Booie, just returned from earning her master's degree in economics from the University of Kent in "Jolly Olde".  She is a very bright young woman and starts work with a government ministry tomorrow.

Wednesday, October 27

A busy day today, even though I stay at the hotel.  The speakers and clerks from the parliaments of all the African Commonwealth countries are meeting at the Sheraton for the rest of the week.  I have breakfast with Gambia's clerk.  Later, I watch the flow of Mercedes Benz, BMWs and Cressidas with flags on their fenders bringing all of the local ambassadors for courtesy calls.  Then a blue Bentley glides to the front portico, the British ambassador, I presume.  No flag, no glitz, just a blue Bentley, the ultimate expression of diplomatic heft!  Then the speakers, each dressed in parliamentary robes, parade through the hotel lobby to their meeting room.  This is followed by a troupe of singers and dancers, the young women members of which appear au naturel, accompanied by a four-piece marimba band.  As if all of this is not enough, the Chairman of ITT, the parent company of the Sheraton Hotel chain, arrives complete with wife, daughter, pilots, chief of security, and other assorted retainers.  Great hurrahs are heard throughout the hotel for this spectacle and, of course, the Chairman and party are lodged just down the hall from me.  I receive an invitation from the hotel manager, Mrs Buhr, to attend her evening cocktail reception where I chat with the ITT security chief.  Then dinner in the hotel's Fisheagle restaurant with Leepile, his wife Tartar and Booie.  We sit next to the Chairman and his party- rather fun.  Afterward, I return to my room for my regular dose of CNN International, highly addictive television for westerners who find themselves in the heart of Africa.  I also enjoy BBC Skynews when I can find it.  Lots of work accomplished today in spite of all the entertainments.  I'm keeping the hotel business centre quite busy typing up my writing.

Thursday, October 28

My visit to Botswana is coming to an end.  Things have picked up a lot this week and I feel like I have made a contribution.  Everything gained so far needs to go to CTF for a future program of assistance for the SATO group.  I have all of my print material ready for the meeting of the executive members tomorrow. Japhta shows up for supper and we have a long talk about the future of the Union and how it has to change its ways of operating.  Now that BTU has permanent staff, more responsibility must be given to the Executive Secretary while the elected people maintain control of policy and programs.  I doubt that Japhta has the weight to turn things around as he is something of an unknown, even within his own organization. 

Friday, October 29

Leepile picks me up and we head over to the new game farm just on the outskirts of Gaborone.  As we drive around looking at ostriches and rhinos, Leepile tells me of the difficulties working with a group of executive members who seem to be a bit backward in their approach to the organization.  He is clearly frustrated and I can see why.  Every time he needs to spend money on behalf of the union, he has to drive out to the treasurer's school and get a check for petty cash.  I don't think I can recommend that Botswana receive CTF assistance until the Union leadership demonstrates that it is prepared to start running like a professional organization and not a 57 year old club.  The treasurer seems to be a bit of a problem in this regard, along with some of the other executive.  We head back to the office and work there until 1:00 pm copying my report for the meeting to be held this evening.  I have decided not to attend but rather to let the executive members thrash over my findings and recommendations on their own. 

Leepile drops me off at the hotel and, after lunch, I take a taxi to the Land Rover dealer.  This part of Africa is full of Land Rovers and seeing them has rekindled an early interest of mine to own one.  Willy Hunter is the service manager of the dealership, an expatriate Scotsman who has spent his life fixing Land Rovers after their owners have demanded just a bit too much from these robust vehicles.  He loads me up with pamphlets and magazines and, after a tour around the place, I decide to walk downtown. This little jaunt ends up taking over an hour, in 35 degree celsius heat.  The beer I have while sitting under my pool side umbrella back at the hotel is greatly appreciated.  I hope the meeting in Malahapye goes well for the BTU folk and that they make some progress on progress.

Saturday, October 30

I take care of some housekeeping chores today in preparation for my departure for Mozambique tomorrow.  Leepile did not show up today as I expected he would but Japhta called and said he would visit tomorrow.  There is a full moon for Halloween tonight and the hotel even has a few decorations put out.

Sunday, October 31

Moving day, and how!  I get up to see the Botswana Army setting up tanks, armoured cars, machine gun emplacements and soldiers everywhere on the grounds out in front of the hotel.  My phone rings and the manager asks if I would mind giving up my room a bit early so that it can be used as a security position.  Why, of course I will!  The hotel is expecting leaders from several countries for a conference today and security measures by the host country are quite impressive.  I pack rather hurriedly and a hotel staff person helps me move to a room on the back of the hotel. There I watch CNN until Leepile shows up to report on last night's executive meeting.  He is not a happy staffer and may leave if his employers don't shape up.  I tell him that I will convey his concerns to Tom Bediako, the Education International field representative for Africa.  At 3:00 pm, the hotel driver takes me out to the airport.  He doesn't want to, but I overhear one of the hotel managers telling him that I just paid the hotel more than his annual salary.  Off we go.  At the airport, it's 41 degrees Celsius (105 degrees Fahrenheit) with ceiling fans but no air conditioning.  The flight to Johannesburg is on a nice old Fokker F-27 operated by Comair.  Another short stay in the transit area of Jan Smuts Airport and then it's off to Maputo, Mozambique on a South African Airlines 737.  This quick and efficient one-hour flight is followed by an interminable line through Mozambique immigration in the usual dark, sweaty airport terminal greatly favoured by movie producers to depict third world Communist countries.  I finally get through and go to retrieve my baggage and look for my ride from the teachers organization.  The baggage is there but the teachers aren't.  The terminal is full of hustlers trying to provide rides into the city and one of them latches onto me.  I check with a fellow passenger to see if he knows anything about these operators and am told that such rides are fairly customary.  I tell my entrepreneur that I will ride with him but that I do not have any American or Mozambican money, only Botswana pula.  Apparently, that's no problem so he hauls me and my luggage outside and signals his partner to bring up the car.  Away we go in a beat-up old Peugeot, sounding like a tinker's wagon, into the dark centre of the city.  I'm thinking, what if these guys decide to mug me, or worse.  Who would ever know?  The language here is Portuguese, so that doesn't help.  But we barrel on into Maputo and sure enough, we arrive safely at the Hotel Escola Andalusia.  The driver decides not to settle for the strange looking Botswana money and holds out for $10 US.  Fortunately, another guest who is checking in lends me the cash and the driver and I part as life-long friends.  Up the elevator I go (pull open glass door, slide open brass accordion door, enter, repeat process in reverse) to room 413.  Entering the room, I have stepped back about seventy years in time to a Portuguese colonial hostel.  The room comes complete with a little lizard that scurried in through the window.  This place ain't the Sheraton but it's okay.  Out on the front patio, I can smell the ocean "...just beyond those houses", says another guest.

Monday, November 1

Since no one met me at the airport last night, I'm not sure how to proceed this morning.  I check a map for the street location of the Organizacio Nacionales dos Professores (ONP) and phone the number I have been given.  No answer to the operator-placed call (no direct dialling here) so after breakfast I set off on foot, travelling roads named after all kinds of Communist heroes.  Let me tell you, socialism like this isn't great.  There is garbage at every street corner and a general look of neglect and  decay.  I find the ONP office and as I walk up the side driveway, I see four people getting into a little car.  "Hi, I'm Tim Johnston", I say to the executive staff of the ONP who, as it turns out, are on their way to meet Mr Johnston from Canada.  Francisco de Assis, the secretary responsible for organizing activities, is assigned as my guide and interpreter.  Raquel Damiao is the General Secretary and Horatio Alexandre is the Administrative Secretary.  All seem like nice people and I'm welcomed to the ONP headquarters.  Later, Francisco takes me for a drive around the city.  Despite the obvious neglect, there is a tremendous amount of beauty in this place.  Now that the civil war has ended, the country should develop fairly quickly and it has a lot to offer.  We have lunch at a restaurant on the shore of the Indian Ocean and then take a walk along the gorgeous beach.  Back at the office, Horatio lends me the Mozambican equivalent of $100 US dollars until I can get to a bank.  Try stuffing 505,000 Meticais into the pockets of a pair of Levis!  We plan out activities for the duration of my stay and I'm delighted to learn that we will spend at least three days travelling inside the country.  Mr Mendes, the ONP driver, takes me back to the hotel in the government supplied staff car.  I have a snooze, check the restaurant, and then dress for dinner.  I can now see why "dressing for dinner" was such a big deal for early European settlers- there isn't much else to do in the evenings.  Maputo seems much more hospitable than I expected and room 413, even without hot water for showering, is still just fine.

Tuesday, November 2

Dinner last night was truly memorable.  The dining room was very formal and beautifully set with numerous waiters and attendants to serve gespacho soup like I've never tasted.  This was followed by salad and then prawns the size of lobsters.  Afterward, I walked up to the television lounge and fell asleep watching a B grade bomb of a movie.  On leaving the lounge, a young lady jumped up and followed me out.  "Do you like me?  My name is Gina.  Do you like me?"  This is the second time on this trip that I have been propositioned, not because I'm an irresistible specimen, but because I represent western wealth.  Prostitution here is common, partly because the average job wage is only around $80 per month. There are 8,000 United Nations troops in the country with nothing much to do now that there is a peace accord between the Frelimo ruling party and the Renamo guerrillas.  So I imagine Gina tried elsewhere with more rewarding results.

I spend most of today at the ONP building where I am assigned my own office and, with the staff, inspect the new bus that has been provided to ONP to use as a way of generating income.  A representative of the Canadian University Services Overseas (CUSO) comes by to see Francisco and spends about an hour with me as well.  Her name is France Desaulniers and she is on a two year assignment working with trade unions in Mozambique.  Unions here are really in their infancy and are just becoming independent from the "workers party".  I'm taken back to the hotel for a Portuguese-style lunch, which means several courses even for the mid-day meal.  At least the lunch break lasts for two hours and the siesta allows some time for digestion.  More research back at the office afterward and we all leave at 5:00 pm for a drive out to the suburb of Matola where Raquel lives with her two children and where Francisco and Horatio and their families share a large house.  This house is rather interesting in that it was nationalized (along with all other property in Mozambique) after independence in 1972.  Just before that, its owner and builder, a Portuguese medical doctor, simply loaded his family into a car, gave the house keys to the servants, and left the country forever.  Five hundred of his medical colleagues also left the country, probably under similar circumstances.  The house is huge and was very modern in its day.  It sits on about three acres of land and once had beautiful gardens and a swimming pool.  Over the years, the place has fallen into disrepair but the government assigned it to the ONP and Francisco and Horatio have put a lot of work into restoring it to something of its former glory.  The Union hopes to eventually buy the house and use it as a hostel and printing centre.  After a quick hello to the families, Francisco drives me back into town.  At night, Maputo is rather depressing.  Hundreds of people wait patiently in the growing darkness for transport home and students continually come and go to attend one of the three shifts that schools provide to give everyone a little education.

Wednesday, November 3

Today is my Mother's 94th birthday.  Happy birthday from Maputo, Mozambique, Mom.  I work in the office this morning, taking a break at 10:30 for a Coke by the sea with Francisco.  After spending a fair bit of time studying the Mozambique map, Francisco and I are coming up with a plan for future development of the Union by establishing teacher centres in three of the provincial capitals.  Since there are five of us going for lunch, we climb into the new bus and go through the town in style.  The bus has just been licensed and will head out on its first charter this week.  At 2:30, I phone home and wake everyone up.  There is a nine hour time difference now that Alberta has gone back to standard time.  Checking salaries and organization expenses, I find that the General Secretary earns about $385 a month.  That's not bad when the average monthly salary is only $80.  The two other principal secretaries each earn about $50 less.  The salaries for the "troubadores" or workers are significantly less and I wonder how they manage.

Thursday, November 4

I spend today at the hotel - just need some time to myself now and then.  I work on my accounts for about two hours then head out for a walk to Teachers' Park, about one kilometre north of the hotel, to get a good view of the harbour of Lourenco Marques  (Maputo).  What a sight.  This country is so beautiful.  But as I'm taking pictures, along come two fellows who dump a box full of garbage over the retaining wall.  Jesus!  Why isn't this country looked after better?  I walk past a large secondary high school which still has fading slogans from the communist era painted on the walls: "Viva O Marxismo", complete with a stirring portrait of Lenin.  A primary school further on has been named after the date when all property in Mozambique was nationalized, "Centro Infatil 1 Junho".  Beneath the school name are drawings of Walt Disney's Goofy and one of Donald Duck's nephews.  I guess we know who won that battle of ideology, don't we.  Along the way, I give some money to children out on the streets begging.  One little girl of about five has lost one of her legs, probably to a land mine.  More money to some street boys who have perhaps lost even more- their families and any ties they ever may have had to a normal childhood.  More work on the teacher centre plan after supper.  I do like Mozambique and I hope we can do something to help the teachers' union grow and serve.

Friday, November 5

Some good discussions today with the ONP staff, including Raquel, the General Secretary.  She is reluctant to speak English but actually does quite well with a bit of encouragement.  I encourage.  Raquel is a fine leader, despite being at the bottom of two Mozambican totem poles - she is a woman and she is a primary school teacher.  I hope she carries on for a second term in office.  Here, the secretariat members are elected to serve for five year terms.  The president is a government appointee for whom the teachers seem to have little time and even less interest.  Lots of writing today on the project proposal.  At lunch, I meet a young white man from South Africa looking for work in construction.  Andrew Laing gives me a perspective on white South Africans that I have been missing up to now.  I give him half of my huge ham and cheese sandwich.  In the afternoon, Raquel, Francisco and I travel around town pricing out trucks (including Land Rovers!).  These will be needed if any kind of field service is ever to be offered to the membership.  In the evening, I meet an economist from the Royal Tropical Institute of Holland.  Dr Ton de Wit is helping to get an infant food plant back in operation in the city of Beira.  This old hotel is full of expatriates working on projects to help get Mozambique back on track.

Saturday, November 6

Off at 10:30 this morning with Raquel and Francisco for a drive out to a reservoir south of Maputo.  We pass through some interesting country and I finally see "some of the guys" walking down the road with AK-47s slung over their shoulders.  All of these machine guns are to be turned in but many are not, often being smuggled into South Africa.  Outside a satellite earth station, we come across a Russian battle tank propped up on blocks that, along with a field cannon, guards the place from Renamo attacks that should no longer occur.  There are still lots of signs of refugee areas, people living in rather primitive conditions, but also gardens and crops being tended showing that people feel it is safe to move back into the countryside.  Back in town, I treat my friends to a late lunch and, after their departure, I walk again to Teachers' Park for a glimpse of the ocean.

Sunday, November 6

Today dawns cool and overcast.  I manage to stay sleeping until 8:00 am.  I usually wake at five o'clock and then drift in and out of sleep until I get up.  Another cold shower (no hot water since I've been here), breakfast and then out for a really good hike.  My route takes me down Patrice Lumumba Road to Avenida Vladimir Lenin.  Then down "Vlad" to the ferry wharf where I watch an old tub fill up with cars, people and motorbikes and shove off for the other side of the harbour.  The wind is fairly brisk but warming and is bringing squalls onshore.  I walk along the sea wall (Avenida de Sagres) and get caught in the rain, huddling behind a palm tree to try and stay dry.  When the squall passes, I continue on along Avenida de Marginal (more sea wall) where I pass people out fishing, people sleeping on the pavement, piles of garbage, along what once was and will again be a beautiful promenade.  My path takes me up a little winding road to the plateau above the shore.  The rock retaining wall along this road was built in 1910 and there is not a crack in it.  Rounding a switchback in the road, I come across an old sofa that someone has dumped off.  More garbage, I decide, until I take a closer look and see that the sofa has been carved out of a solid block of granite and placed here for passers-by to rest and consider the view.  Avenida Freidrich Engels takes me back along the shore but now at a level higher than my outbound route.  Avenida Julius Nyere takes me down the hill to the sea where I climb a steep trail back up and come out at the Hotel Cardosa.  This hotel has been taken over by representatives of the Renamo forces.  A year ago, these people would have been shot on sight.  Today, they are quartered in the hotel and provided with Mercedes Benz cars and Land Rovers at government expense.  Still, this is considerably cheaper than the wanton violence and destruction the Renamo people visited upon the country.  Despite the grunge, Mother Nature just seems to shine through.  This is truly a glorious place.

Monday, November 8

A regular day at the office.  I spend some time with Pekka Tikka, a school principal from Finland, who has worked at ONP as a volunteer for the past two years.  I appreciate his insights into the progress of the Union and its prospects for the future.  I also spend some time in the printing centre.  ONP uses this CTF supplied equipment for its own purposes as well as for generating revenue from outside organizations.  In the evening, I meet another resident of the hotel, Tim Harris.  He is a former sea captain who now divides his time between Mozambique, London and New Guinea helping to develop maritime shipping regulations.

Tuesday, November 9

At 11:00 am today, Raquel and Francisco take me to the town of Namaacha which is located about seventy kilometres southwest of Maputo, right along the Swaziland border.  With us as far as Matola is Raquel's daughter, also named Raquel, and Francisco's wife, Carla.  Today is Raquel Junior's fourteenth birthday and I make her a present of my cherished Mickey Mouse Flying Aces hat.  I won't be able to see my daughter Galien on her fourteenth birthday in nine days time.  Raquel the Younger is a lovely girl and I tease her a lot every time I see her.  Arriving at Namaacha, we stop for lunch at a nice hotel.  The owner asks if we are enjoying our meals and explains that the hotel had been completely shot up by Renamo fighters and had only just reopened.  We then visit a group of teachers in the town's secondary school.  This school must have been built as a showpiece by the Portuguese.  It was once a beautiful stucco building with high ceilings, vast arched windows, parquet floors and halls lined with marble.  Now it is dark and smelly with graffiti on the marble and pools of piss on the floor of the gymnasium. 

Most of the windows are broken and there is little in the way of furniture.  The exterior walls are pock-marked with bullet holes made by Renamo guns.  In the courtyard, a cement base for the flag pole still holds the inscription "Viva a revolucao socialista", a sentiment no longer politically correct.  We travel on to a house loaned to the ONP by the government.  This is another relic from the Portuguese past, a huge farm mansion with outbuildings, slowly decaying through neglect.  Francisco wants me to drive back to Maputo and after a bit of prompting, I take the wheel.  This is my first driving in several weeks and despite right-hand drive and bad roads, we make very good time.  We pass fifty or more burned-out vehicles along the way, all victims of Renamo ambushes.  Raquel is dropped off in Matola and Francisco drives me back to the hotel and stays for supper.  Tomorrow is Maputo Day and everything in the city will be closed.

Wednesday, November 10

A holiday today so I stay in bed until 8:00 o'clock.  Then a shower with warm water (thank you, Jesus!) and breakfast.  Francisco takes me for a drive later in the morning and we head out to the airport where I hope to buy some film.  We go out on the second-floor balcony to watch the airplanes and have a Coke.  All the airplanes on the civilian side of the airport are American.  On the military side, all are Russian.  We drive part way back into town and then detour through an agricultural college and enter an area of shanty housing.  Suddenly, Raquel and her two children materialize.  The children had been visiting their father.  We then head out to Matola and stop at Raquel's for a quick visit.  I take pictures of Raquel the Younger wearing my once most favourite hat.  She gives me a small ivory carving which I accept with some difficulty, knowing it might cause problems for me on return to Canada.  Francisco then takes me to his house for lunch with his family and I eat my first mangoes "right off the tree".  Afterward, Francisco and his family drive me back into town for an appointment with Jacqueline Lambert-Madore, the field director in Mozambique for CUSO.  Jacqueline is from Montreal but has lived in Maputo for eleven years, raising a family of four children who all consider Mozambique as their home.  We talk about Mozambique, projects, cooperation between agencies and Land Rovers, her vehicle of choice.  Tomorrow starts early as I will be going north of Xai-Xai at 5:30 am.

Thursday, November 11

Remembrance Day, and a day I will not forget.  We are bound for the town of Chibuto, about 225 kilometres north of Maputo.  We leave town at 7:00 am in a government-provided Land Cruiser and reach Xai-Xai after about three hours driving.  We visit the ONP office and store there and pick up a few people who will accompany us on the remainder of the trip into Chibuto.  The road from here is sandy track.  We make a courtesy call on the provincial supervisor of education (his office is a four-story walk-up) and he tells us what he has planned for our visit.  First we drive out to a rural primary school that has a student population of more than 600 children, and a teaching staff of eight.  When we drive onto the school grounds, the vehicle is swarmed by all of these little people who want to see their visitors.  I feel like Santa Claus, looking into all of those curious and expectant faces.  Then the children are sent back to their lessons, being delivered under the branches of shady cashew trees.  There are no desks at the school, few books, and pieces of plywood tied to tree branches serve as blackboards.  In spite of the absence of amenities (and such basics as an actual building), the children seem attentive but the fact is there is a very high rate of failure and a low rate of retention of students.  As I walk from class to class (tree to tree) I become aware of patterns in the dirt of the school ground.  I don't see the futuristic tread marks of Nikes, Reboks or Vans but rather little indents in the dust made by bare toes, heels and the balls of little feet.  Not your average Canadian school ground.  We leave after visiting all of the classes and churn out of the school grounds in four-wheel drive.  Returning to Namaacha, we visit a school where several teachers have gathered to honour our visit.  After introductions, nine of the teachers come to the front of the classroom and begin singing.  Each takes a turn as  soloist and sets the rhythms of the accompanying dances.  They sing, says my interpreter, of the hardships they face as teachers in Mozambique, receiving poor pay and working in poor conditions.  They also sing about the disaster of the civil war which saw the destruction of half of the schools in the country and the murdering of hundreds of teachers.  Even without understanding the songs word for word, I am moved by the sincerity that is being expressed.  When I speak, I tell them I am spending sixteen days at their union headquarters working on plans to improve educational service in their country.  But I tell them that the best idea I have come across is their singing and I encourage them to take their message to the country in just this way.  The last school visited hosts an outdoor lunch for us and I have a chance to talk to some teachers and students informally.  This school also has remnants of the socialist era with really quite bizarre paintings of Russian communist leaders painted on its walls.  I don't think any student could ever have identified with these strange and foreign propaganda attempts.  Our return to Maputo takes us through Xai-Xai to the shore of the Indian Ocean at a place called Hally Beach.  The shore here is at least as glorious as the sea at Monterey, with only our little group and three off-duty UN soldiers to enjoy it.  We return to the city at 7:30 pm after a very rewarding day.  My stay in Mozambique is drawing to a close and I'm already beginning to miss the place. 

Friday, November 12

Francisco picks me up at nine o'clock as Raquel has given everyone a one-hour holiday this morning.  We stop at a bank so that I can cash a traveller's cheque.  What a hassle!  It takes nearly two hours, including an appointment with the bank manager, to cash the cheque because I want part of it in American currency.  I am convinced that if any one thing is responsible for slowing development in Africa, it has to be the basic bedrock stupidity of the banks in many parts of the continent.  I bury my chagrin back at the office by fine-tuning the report that I will present to the secretariat members on Monday.  I have lunch with France from CUSO and Pekka.  The insights provided by other expatriates have been valuable and have allowed me to be a better judge of what might and might not work, in terms of development projects.  I pick up pictures of the Namaacha trip and last Sunday's long walk.  Still a lot of reading to do this weekend and final touches to the findings and recommendations report I have written, the third one on this trip.

Saturday, November 13

I start out looking for the local craft market this morning but somehow miss it and end up back down by the sea.  I stop by an apartment building down the street where I had earlier photographed a little girl, promising her father that I would provide a print.  Dad, Mom and Daughter were delighted to receive the picture.  I work for a few hours and head out again, this time to the sea wall near the ONP headquarters.  I buy some toffee and eat it, sitting on a bench overlooking the harbour, watching the ships come and go.  It doesn't get much better than this!  The project proposal is now complete and I will present it at a staff meeting on Monday.  It is hand-written and in English (my Portuguese not being up to the challenge) but I think it will serve the purpose.  The need for the regional teachers' centres is pretty clear and I will work at getting these set up on my return to Canada.  An interesting visit with a pair of economists from Belgium, here trying to collect on debts owed by the Mozambique government.  They like to see debtor countries off-load some of their debt by supporting infrastructure development programs within their countries.  They want to know if it is safe to walk around Maputo as they had both been attacked by gangs in Johannesburg.  I assure them this isn't Johannesburg.  Finally, I make a deal with Jonas, one of the craft vendors working the street outside the hotel.  I had told him on the first day of my visit that I would buy some ebony from him but not until I was about to leave.  I wanted a little ebony box and he wanted his picture taken.  We traded, with me kicking in 15,000 meticais.  Not bad- he did okay.  Otherwise, a quiet day but I wish each country visit could end on a weekend.  Staying over until the beginning of the week seems a bit of a waste of time.  I'm looking forward to moving on, as much as I have become fond of Mozambique.  Each flight to a new country brings me just a bit closer to home.

Sunday, November 14

At lunch today, I meet Karel Stork, an architect from Oslo, Norway.  He is in Africa promoting a building system for houses that uses an aluminium frame which is then covered with indigenous materials.  He has set up a health clinic in Beira Province to demonstrate his design and has already sold hundreds of the frames in the Sudan.  He tells me that while his housing is prefabricated, the very first prefabricated house in Africa was assembled here in Maputo.  It was designed and built in France by none other than Mr Eifel of Tower fame.  We decide to walk down to see it and it's quite a marvel- three stories of cast iron framing with steel panels to form the walls.  It is still being used as an office for the department of museums.  We decide to carry on with our walk and we follow the sea wall around on the same route I took last week.  I also talk to a representative of USAid who is stationed in Swaziland.  Staying at the Andalusia can give one a very good picture of what is happening in terms of development assistance in this country and it has been great fun meeting all of these people.

Monday, November 15

My last full day in Maputo sees me away to the office at eight o'clock with Francisco, Raquel and Horatio.  I have photocopies made of my final report and then go for one last Coke down by the beautiful sea.  Pekka comes to my office to say goodbye and gives me some Zimbabwe dollars and advice on the hotel where I will be staying in Harare.  I telephone the Zimbabwe Teachers' Association (ZIMTA) and they will arrange to meet me at the airport tomorrow.  In the afternoon, the secretaries and I have a three hour session going over my report and recommendations.  It takes a bit longer than I expected because everything is translated into Portuguese.  Basically, I have provided a plan to put into operation their idea to have teacher centres established across the country and they seem to like what I have written.  In the evening at the hotel, I talk with a young professor of mathematics from Rutgers University in New York who is teaching at the university here for the semester.  His wife and young son are with him, living in a suite in the hotel.  I check out tonight in order to avoid delays in the morning and, while doing so, talk to a television crew from Lebanon who are also staying at the hotel.  A woman on the crew is also writing a book on the displacement of children caused by the war and I promise to leave her some information.

Tuesday, November 16

Time to leave Mozambique.  Mr Mendes picks me up and takes me to the office.  He then drives the bus out to the front of the building so I can take pictures of the staff, the bus and the office before I leave for the airport.  Raquel, Francisco and Horatio drive me out but we find that the flight has been delayed for two hours.  Pekka, who came out in his own car to see me off, takes Raquel and Horatio back to town after fond farewells and Francisco waits with me to make sure I get away okay.  At 1:00 pm, I board an Air Zimbabwe 737 and leave on a twenty-minute flight to Swaziland where the plane makes a stop before proceeding on to Harare.  At this point, I begin retracing earlier travels in Africa and it is good to be back in Swaziland after four years, if only for thirty minutes.  Then a beautiful flight north to Harare where I am met by Roselyn Mangota and Martin Mukanyi, two staffers from ZIMTA.  They drive me into town in Roselyn's little Mazda and get me checked into the Jameson Hotel.  I tip the porter, hustle him out of my room and get violently sick.  I'm not sure of the cause, but I think it was food Francisco and I ate at the airport in Maputo while waiting for my flight.  The entire ZIMTA crew returns in the evening to say hello and we go for soft drinks in the lounge.  Later, I return the throne in my hotel room for a repeat performance of my check-in visit.  This is the first bout of sickness on the trip and, hopefully, the last.  By 1:30 in the morning, I feel completely dehydrated and ask room service to send up three litres of bottled water which I promptly down while watching CNN.

Wednesday, November 17

The folk from ZIMTA are coming to get me this morning but I really feel ill.  I try phoning the office but get no answer.  Peter Mabande, the Executive Secretary, shows up, calls my room and comes up for a visit.  I spend the rest of the day sleeping and by evening I'm feeling much better.

Thursday, November 18

Today is daughter Galien's fourteenth birthday.  Peter walks over from the ZIMTA office and we go back together via Harare Gardens, a beautiful park in the centre of the city.  My hotel is on one side of the park and ZIMTA House is on the other, about a fifteen minute walk away, and one of the nicest "walks to work" of the trip.  Harare is beautifully kept and full of blossoms of every imaginable colour.  A quick lesson in traffic control is learned as I step off the curb on a "walk" light and just about get hit by a car speeding around the corner.  Peter's big hand grabbed my shoulder and he hauled me back just in time.  Peter shows me around ZIMTA House, a former residence hotel that the Association is purchasing.  It's a three story building, about the size of the first part of Barnett House.  The fledgling credit union takes up part of the first floor along with a reception office, a printing department, the cafeteria and kitchen and some offices rented to other organizations.  The second floor houses the ZIMTA staff and the third floor is available to accommodate executive members when they come to town for meetings.  A staff meeting is held for my benefit and I'm loaded up with background reading material.  It is clear that this is a very worthwhile organization and the staff is ably and expertly led by Peter.  These people deserve a lot of credit for building up such a fine organization in just eleven years.  The afternoon is spent reading and I return through the gardens to my hotel for supper, which I manage to keep down, and a quiet evening.  At ten o'clock, I send a fax to Galien in Toronto wishing her a happy birthday from her old Dad in the heart of Africa.

Friday, November 19

This morning, I attend an in-country briefing session at the office of the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA).  Violet Matani, a Zimbabwe national who spent eight years in Canada, guides me through an orientation session on the country and explains the services that CIDA provides to visiting Canadian project people.  Harare is a clean, pleasant city.  Lots of new construction going on.  The ZIMTA staff will all be out of the city this weekend so I will be on my own again.  Thirteen days to Toronto to see Galien and then home to everyone else.

Saturday, November 20

Saturday in Harare.  A very nice town but I may as well be in Windsor, Ontario or even Calgary.   Harare just doesn't seem like an African city.  I spend the day exploring by walking.

Sunday, November 21

More of the same.  I buy a good pocket book (prices reasonable here) and that plus CNN gets me through the weekend.

Monday, November 22

I meet Tom Bediako this morning.  He is the Education International staff officer responsible for teacher organization liaison in Africa.  I had met him before at a CTF consultation meeting in Ottawa.  We compare notes about the organizations I have visited and it seems we have similar views on how these groups are progressing.  Peter and I take Tom to the airport for his flight to South Africa.  He'll be coming back through next week and we will visit again then.  The remainder of the day is spent in discussions with Peter and his staff.

Tuesday, November 23

Coming into the office this morning, I find Peter signing dividend cheques for some members of the teachers' credit union.  There are now about 5500 credit union members.  He tells me that ZIMTA had a net gain of 438 members in October for a total voluntary membership now of 49,021 teachers.  He is proud of what his organization has accomplished and well he should be.  Peter has set up a work space for me at a table in his office.  I look out a side window into a beautiful garden.  Every half hour or so, we pause in our work and have a quick exchange of views on all kinds of things- why he still calls his wife his girlfriend and why ZIMTA should eliminate the positions of general secretary and treasurer.  Peter has a vision for this Association and I hope I can support him in some small way.  At 1:30 pm, the general secretary, Stephen Mahere, stops by for a meeting.  I will likely be recommending that his position be dropped and we talk around this for awhile.  We also talk about the make-up of the national executive.  There are seven positions allocated to designated sectors such as headmasters, university lecturers and Ministry of Education officials.  This leaves only ten positions for the vast majority of the membership composed of classroom teachers.  Even then, these ten positions are invariably filled by local headmasters or ministry personnel.  I argue that this needs to be addressed because about 85 percent of the members who contribute about 85 percent of the revenue have very little input at the national executive level.  Their argument is that all parts of the education spectrum need to be represented by ZIMTA.  I suggest that this is the kind of issue that can sneak up and bite leaders in the ass.  At four o'clock, I return to the hotel for a repair job to the haircut I received last week.  The shop owner who fixes me up came from Germany thirteen years ago.  His father had served in the Luftwaffe as a fighter pilot.  After the war, his father became the German distributor for Piper airplanes, many of which were flown across the Atlantic by a famous pilot  named Max Conrad.  The barber remembered back to his childhood and visits to his parents' home by Conrad and some of the exploits the flyer experienced bringing little single engine airplanes "across the pond" to Europe.

Wednesday, November 24

Heavy rain this morning helps convince me to stay at the hotel to write.  Peter phones and suggests that we visit a game farm later in the morning.  At ten o'clock, we head west out of the city in Peter's little Renault bound for a wild animal park.  We see lions and cheetahs and most of the big African animals then stop for a Coke at the concession.  Here we are swamped by little school children visiting the park on a close of school term field trip.  Peter has lunch with me back in town then leaves for the office.  I spend a bit more time exploring the wilds of downtown Harare and then return to the writing.

Thursday, November 25

Another thunderstorm ushers in the day and I stay in to do the writing I should have done yesterday.  At noon, the rain stops and I take a break to do some shopping which

I have left for Harare, my last stop before returning home.  I can carry more weight of luggage out of Africa than I can carry around Africa, as I found to my dismay in Lesotho.  Coming home, the sky opens and I get soaked.  I write until four o'clock and venture out again, this time to pick up photographs.  British Airways confirms my homeward flight and that, along with buying presents for the kids, really gets me thinking of home.  Coming back to the hotel, the sky opens and I get soaked again!  On Avenue Samora Machal, sirens scream as a motorcade carrying President Mugabe races to the ZANU Party building just west of my hotel.  First comes a phalanx of motorcycles followed by three police cars, an open Land Rover full of armed troops and then three black Mercedes Benz cars, the biggest of which contains the President.  The two smaller cars keep station with their front fenders just a foot away from the back doors of the President's car.  Bringing up the rear are more police cars and Land Rovers, all with flashing lights and sirens.  Whenever Mugabe travels within the city, this is the usual routine.  The sirens are known locally as "Mugabe music".

Friday, November 26

Roselyn Mangota picks me up this morning for visits to a couple of schools.  Our first stop is Chitsere Primary School, the first government-built school for blacks in Harare, dating from the mid 1930's.  Tom Molife is the principal and is also a former treasurer of ZIMTA.  The students are having a rehearsal for the end of term ceremonies that will take place tomorrow and Tom takes us out to watch the kids playing field hockey and volleyball, games that have only recently been introduced at the school.  Then the 1200 students line up on three sides of an open square.  A student marimba band plays and then the music teacher leads all the children in singing three songs.  This is just beautifully done, with complete attention being given to the teacher.  The principal, Roselyn and I then stand in as guests of honour and I am allowed to thank the children for their wonderful songs.  I tell them I have heard children sing in Lesotho, Botswana and Mozambique but none sang as well as they did.  Roselyn then takes me to the Secondary Girl's School, just along the side of Harare Gardens.  A nice visit follows with Ms Thandiwe Dumbutshena, the principal and a CTF John Thompson Fellow.  After lunch, we return to the office and I spend the afternoon typing out my report on the single ZIMTA computer.  Today has provided some wonderful memories.

Saturday, November 27

Peter is coming to take me to the school of his son, Takudzwa and daughter, Tariro for the end of term ceremonies.  The school and his home are in a suburb known as Borrowdale Village, north of downtown Harare.  The audience of parents and guests is treated to a combined Christmas and end-of-school program delivered partly in English and partly in Shona. Both of Peter's children receive awards.  At a reception afterward,

I take a picture of a group of children and the pianist who accompanied the school singers.  He has just returned from Edmonton where he sang in a choral festival with Lark Clark, an Edmonton singer and actress who appeared in an advertisement I once produced for the ATA.  The little Renault then takes Peter, his wife Daina, Tariro, Takudzwa and me to their house for lunch and a visit.  The house is beautifully set on about an acre of land and there are trees and "bird of paradise" plants everywhere. 

Sunday, November 28

My last Sunday in Africa for this trip and it's a kind of lazy day.  I lay out all of the bits and pieces I have purchased along the way and try to figure out how much it is all worth.  This means converting Lesotho maloti, Botswana pula, Mozambican meticais and Zimbabwe dollars to Canadian dollars and hoping it all adds up to under my $300 duty-free limit.  Mugabe's Music roars past again, this time with even more Mercedes Benz cars in the parade.  At supper in the hotel restaurant, a family celebrates the birthday of a daughter.  One of the children is mentally handicapped and she dances around the dining room when her father isn't paying attention.  As the dinner progresses to ice cream cake, this little girl decides to come over and visit with me.  We strike up a conversation and she tells me about flying to Canada, one of her favourite things.  Turns out the family spent several years in Toronto before returning to farm just outside Harare.  When I return her to her family's table, I am given a standing invitation to come and stay at Ivador Farm next time I am in Zimbabwe.

Monday, November 29

Up early today thanks to the owner of a minibus who stops for passengers outside my window.  His bus has an air horn that makes a sound like a stranded sheep.  Good for attracting passengers, I guess, but rather hard to sleep through.  I'm at ZIMTA House by eight o'clock to check in with Peter and then to format my report that waits for me in the ZIMTA computer.  I take the print-out over to the CIDA office where the staff makes five copies for me (no charge for CIDA-funded projects).  I then return to ZIMTA House and a second visit with Tom Bediako, who is on his way home from his trip to South Africa.  I go through my findings and recommendations with Stephen, Peter and Tom.  This seems to go well and Stephen thanks me for the work I have done on this visit, even though I have recommended that his position of General Secretary be abolished.  In the afternoon, I try making phone calls to the other teacher organizations I have visited but I only have success reaching Botswana.  Much of the telephone service is apparently out of operation because of the heavy rainfall that we have experienced.  Leepile has gone on a course to Kenya and so I speak to one of the National Service boys who wishes me Merry Christmas and safe trip home.  Some last minute shopping follows and includes picking up a purse for Rebecca and some key fobs that I had custom made at Johnston's Sadlery.  All items incorporate a metal oval plate with the name of the maker and the city.  Then I attempt to pack up once again.  This time, I need a small carry-on bag for an over night stay in London and everything else has to fit inside the monster suitcase, including my prized Lesotho straw hat. 

On my last evening in Africa, I reflect on all I have seen, all the places I have visited and, most important, all of the people I have met.  It's has been quite an incredible opportunity for me, one I will never forget. 

Tuesday, November 30

A very long day begins at 6:00 am.  I am checked out of the hotel by seven and on my way to ZIMTA House to say last farewells to the staff and to stop at the Harare Girl's High School to deliver some pins to Thandiwe Dumbutshena.  Peter and I have a nice visit and I present him with a Parker pen, my presentation gift of choice, it would seem.  Then I go around for farewells to whomever I can find.  The hotel has arranged for a taxi to take me to the airport and so I leave ZIMTA House and take my last walk through Harare Gardens.  Check-in at the airport is uneventful, if a bit expensive.  Zimbabwe levies a $20 US "leaving tax" on departing visitors.  A new South African Airways A320 flies me to Johannesburg (my fourth visit to this airport) and I kill off six hours of waiting for my London flight by reading and watching the coming and going of the many airplanes.  In the departures restaurant, I notice a familiar face going through the food line.  The face spots me and smiles.  I remember him from the Hotel Andalusia, a hydraulic engineer from Cape Verde Islands, and one of the fraternity of aid-givers who populated that interesting place.  Antonio Sabino is on his way home after completing an irrigation project in central Mozambique.  At 7:30 pm, I board the British Airways 747-400 for the long flight to London.  I'm seated in the first row of the first economy cabin.  As this row opens onto the emergency exit, there are only two chairs and a huge amount of space.  Seated beside me is Claire, a young girl from South Africa who is on her way to Scotland to spend a few months with her grandparents.  This is her first "real airplane ride" and I buy her a British Airways pen as a souvenir of the event.  Eleven hours, three movies, two meals and about four fitful hours of sleep later, the plane lands at London and a very long day has ended.

Wednesday, December 1

Off the plane and down to arrivals for luggage and customs.  I check the big bag and head into London on the Underground, bound for the Tavistock Hotel.  The "Tube" is really terrific for getting around London and it gets me to Russel Square and the hotel with no trouble.  I check in, have a thirty minute nap, clean up and head out again.  I put my Underground day pass to work by heading up the Northern Line to Collingwood station and a  visit to the Royal Air Force Museum at the old base at Hendon, truly one of the best aviation collections anywhere.  After lunch and a walk through the museum buildings, it's back into the City to Bank Street station and a transfer to the Docklands Light Railroad.  This new line runs out to Canary Wharf and parts of the Port of London.  The train is operated by a computer instead of a driver and I sit at the very front looking straight ahead out the front window.  The conductor explains how it all works and tells me of his recent travels in Canada.  I ride to the end of the line and back and then return to the hotel.  I have supper, catch up on my diary and then head to bed.  I am tired out and I have another long flight tomorrow.  At the end of that leg of the journey, a special treat - three days with my daughter in Toronto. 

Thursday, December 2

I decide to use the bit of time remaining in London to visit the London Transit Museum in Covent Garden, just two Underground stops from my hotel.  Once found, however, I discover the museum is closed for renovations and so I wander around the Garden for a bit, browsing in shops, buying a book on Land Rovers and having a coffee.  Then it's onto the Underground again for the trip out to Heathrow.  In the elevator going up to the departures level, two people are talking about taking the Underground into town.  I offer them my day pass, as I had done to a young traveller on my outward journey through London.  Only the woman is travelling and so I explain how the system works and where her stop is on the subway map.  Her accent prompts me to ask where her home is.  She replies, "I am from Yugoslavia.  I do not have a home".

My flight across the Atlantic is uneventful and, nearing Toronto, I fill out the customs declaration form.  I am about $100 over the tax-free limit and I also check the square that mentions restricted goods, having in mind the piece of ivory that was given to me in Maputo. 

At the customs desk, the agent tells me I  will have to surrender the ivory as it cannot be imported except under very stringent conditions.  I say that I understand and dig the piece out of the big suitcase.  The agent feels badly about having to confiscate the carving and allows me to clear customs without any charge on the extra goods that I have declared. Canada Customs does have a heart. 

I catch the airport bus into Toronto, check in at my hotel and walk over to see Galien at the National Ballet School.  The pointe shoes we had worked on together when I was on my way to Africa have by now completely worn out.  She shows me her new ones.  On the sole is stamped the mark of the maker: "Gamba, 3 Garrick Street, Covent Garden, London".

Tim Johnston

January, 1994