Are Zimbabwean orphans really funny?

Orphan David on arrival

Australia’s favourite curmudgeon Peter Fitzsimons had a sly attack at Manly supporters in his column last Saturday, using Zimbabwean orphans as the punchline to his “joke”.   

TURNABOUT
My thanks to Fitzphile Sam Clough, who drew my attention to this fascinating news item: the Manly cheer squad has just returned from a trip to an orphanage in Zimbabwe.
”It was a great chance to meet underprivileged people with very little hope in life,” said Alfred Mgombo, aged six.

MY RESPONSE:

Read more of this post

On being a camping Dad

Transcendent:  “Extending or lying beyond the limits of ordinary experience.”

I spent the first ten years of life growing up in the midst of a civil war in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe).    During the time I was aged 5 to ten my Dad was drafted into compulsory military service as a chaplain, meaning that for most of those years he would spend three weeks on “call-up” away from home followed by six weeks at home where he’d frantically have to make up for lost time at work where he was National Director of Youth for Christ.

Transcendent memories are those that remain with us for a lifetime, moments where the ordinary is broken by something remarkable.  Some transcendent memories about Dad’s call-ups are the sorrow of the day he’d depart, and one particularly memorable day where he unexpectedly returned home early with tick bite fever (I’m not sure Dad was as overjoyed about this as Mum and I were). 

Read more of this post

Shu-Shine Luxury Bus to Hekpoort

YFC Bulawayo on the Youth Week prowl!

As a child, early January meant one thing – Youth Week.  Youth Week was, and remains, the major camping venture of Youth for Christ in Southern Africa, a cauldron of 600-800 excited youth from throughout South Africa and, when I was growing up Rhodesia (and later Zimbabwe).  Surely this was one of the most adventurous and exciting components of my early childhood – little wonder I’ve gravitated to a role in camping later in life.

In this first installment on Youth Week, maybe the best way to describe the romanticism of it all is to just describe the epic journey it meant for us mad Zimbos.

Dad was National Director of Rhodesia/Zimbabwe YFC, based in Bulawayo.  Each year Bulawayo YFC would make the trip to Youth Week with between 80-100 teenagers, nearly all crammed into the salubrious green seats of a bus supplied by the Shu-Shine Luxury (an oxymoron if I ever heard it) bus company.  This was no luxury liner (like the ones Salisbury/Harare YFC used to get about in).  This was an African bus in all its glory – roof racks piled with all our baggage, diesel fumes belching, seats tight and congested to fit the maximum number of people and two gears (dead slow and stop) on anything that resembled an incline.

Read more of this post

Shalom days

You don’t need a lot at a camp site to keep people well occupied.  All that’s required is a little space, some breathtaking scenery and the chemistry of getting away to somewhere special as a group does the rest.

Camp photo on Chapel kopje - mid 1970s

When I was a kid we used to get away to Shalom campsite several times a year.  By today’s standards the camp site was beyond rustic.  However, what it lacked in creature comforts was made up for in spades by the ambience, the sense of history and splendid isolation in the wilds of the African bush.  I thought I’d share some scattered memories of our times there.

The getting there was the first epic.  Though it has its dangers there’s a certain romanticism about clambering onto the back of a truck for a 60km journey on twisting narrow roads.  When you’re doing it with your peers, all bristling with the excitement of what lies ahead over the next few days, it makes for a contagious hub bub of shrieking laughter and crazy inanity.  About twenty kilometers into the journey we’d enter the Matopos National Park, an exquisite place with some of the largest granite outcrops in the world.  A riot of balancing rocks, emerald-green acacia trees and African wildlife.  Our convoy of trucks would rumble along, campers a sea of contentment sprawled over the open deck or standing looking forward over the front cab, faces smashed with swarms of insects.

Read more of this post

Shalom: My first camp


Welcome to Shalom!

I’ve been getting a lot of Google hits to this site searching for the Zimbabwean camp site Shalom, I guess because I mentioned it in a previous post.

As it’s the first camp site I ever went to and it’s a place where I went to many times in my first fourteen years, it’s only appropriate to tell a bit more of the Shalom story.

Shalom was an isolated camp site in the southern reaches of the wild Matopos Hills, spiritual home of the Matabele tribe.  The Matopos is a breathtaking playground, 35km from the second largest city in Zimbabwe, Bulawayo.  It’s a playground of tumbling boulders, all of the African big game, the world’s largest concentration of the black eagle, caves with ancient cave drawings and monolithic granite outcrops.  It’s also the place Cecil John Rhodes chose to be buried at the appropriately titled World View.

Read more of this post

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 127 other followers

%d bloggers like this: