The Third World as seen from the saddle

I was first exposed to unravelling on a cold, grey day on the streets of Harare in the late eighties. At the time, I was a failing not so Fast Food Restaurateur, looking to make my millions as an Import Export Agent instead. I cleared a space in the kitchen between the hamburger griller and the pie oven for a desk and enrolled myself on a Wade World Trade correspondence course. I spared no expense, other the 50 bucks for the cost of the course. But before I could make my millions trading in minerals like pig iron, grains including maize and wheat or finished commodities like textiles and or plant, machinery and equipment, Chapter One of Wade World Trade told me I needed to organize a facility for Irrevocable Letters of Credit with my bank. My relationship manager a.k.a. the teller at the Post Office Savings Bank didn’t know what a Letter of Credit was, so I took myself off to Barclays Bank on First Street to ask them. In case Barclays had questions, I took my Wade World Trade Training Manual with me in a suspension file, because I hadn’t bought a briefcase yet.

Back then Zimbabwe had an economy, so the streets and pavements between Park Street and First Street were busy, teeming with pedestrians. I threaded my way through them as best I could. Just before the bank though, I got pulled up by a nagging feeling, the kind you might get on a fishing rod, after the first tentative nibble before the real bite. I looked down and there was a piece of brightly coloured wool snagged on the hook of my suspension file. It was a long piece of wool which tracked thirty or forty metres all the way back to a hapless pedestrian standing on the street corner, wearing the remnants of his brightly coloured jersey, and a look of extreme bewilderment. His look turned to one of horror when I tugged the piece of wool loose from my suspension file, unravelling another four rows of his jersey in the process, taking it up past his midriff to up above his nipples, now suddenly and cruelly exposed to the cold. Because I can spell empathy, I walked back to the man slowly gathering wool along the way and gave him back the rest of his jersey, albeit in ball form.

Fast forward forty years, and Mnangagwa’s Presidency is unravelling quicker than that man’s jersey. The US Dollar rate on the street roared through the 37 to 1 mark, up from 1 to 1 in just over 2 years. The knock-on effect on supermarket shelves is brutal. I saw a pomegranate in the supermarket priced to go at just $121. Our poor gardener from my last blog will now only be able to buy just 1.3 pomegranates per month. To shield the army from the ravages of that kind of inflation, and to shield his boss from the ravages of another possible non-coup, the Minister of Finance announced plans to set up subsidized tuck shops in army garrisons, where soldiers could buy commodities, including hopefully pomegranates, for cheap, with the cost of the garrison tuck shops to be covered by 2.5 percent income tax levied on other civil servants. I’m guessing the other civil servants will be thrilled to help their more fortunate colleagues in the military.

To stave off looming famine, the government is buying 250,000 tons of maize from a Malawian priest now living in Pretoria. Clearly, the government never enrolled on the Wade Trade course which clearly states in Chapter 3 that grains including maize and wheat are best bought at world market prices from commodity boards and other registered entities. To secure long term food security, the President is swopping farmland originally taken from white farmers in the land re-distribution program for busses with the Belarus government. I googled Belarus agriculture out of interest and noted their agriculture sector has been in steady decline for the last 20 years because of urban migration. Maybe we’re looking at the possibility of a back to back trade deal as outlined in Wade Trade Chapter 5 whereby we export farmers to them, thus getting their unproductive land in Belarus busy again. This world economics sure is complicated. I also googled the Malawian priest and was interested to see that he has interests in mining, real estate, the hospitality industry, an airline and other entrepreneurial enterprises. I wonder if he learnt how to spell prophet on a Wade World Trade correspondence course.

With just 3 months to go before we pedal to the Skeleton Coast I need to get busy on my bike again. We had our first big Old Legs training ride last weekend to see where our legs are at. The Zim contingent rode out to Hippo Pools and back. I now know that Hippo Pools is exactly 167 kms from my farm gate, but only if you take a very cruel wrong turn at a fork in the road just before Hippo Pools and blunder off lost for 5 kms. Thankfully, the built-in GPS in my head picked up that I was lost and on the wrong road just seconds after a guy in a 4X4 told me I was lost and on the wrong road.

The ride through an almost deserted and once productive Shamva Valley was beautiful, albeit depressing. Maybe next time, it will be full of productive Belarusians wearing khaki.

I was able to survive the ride mostly thanks to a new aerodynamic hairstyle courtesy of my six-year-old hairstylist Cailyn. My new hairdo helped take the sting out of the advertised downhill all the way to Hippo Pools turning into 1517 m of uphill slog, according to Strava on my phone. Dave Whitehead however logged just 1041 m of climb on his Garmin. Which is why I much prefer Strava.

Dave rode in a world of pain when the hole in his riding shorts translated into a big hole in his leg. I offered to pour antiseptic into the hole, but he said no thanks. And Carl Wilson had the manners to not get too bored on the ride out, despite lots of waiting.

I’m learning a lot riding with Carl. Last week in Domboshawa, he taught me how to do a shoulder roll straight out of a Danny Macaskill video after falling off your bike over the front of your handlebars.  On the way out to Hippo Pools, he showed me how to break off a conversation abruptly in mid-sentence by crashing on a straight bit of road, again using the ground to break your fall.

The ride out of Hippo Pools at first light on the Sunday through the Umfurudzi National Park was especially good. I screamed down a steep hill for real when I bumped into two buffalo standing in a stream at the bottom. My senses were heightened, but not nearly enough for my liking, so straight away I looked for a tree to climb, for just in case my screams set the buffalo off. But the tree didn’t come into play. The buffalo just stood and glared, blocking the road like the trolls. After 5 minutes of standoff, I resorted to Africa’s favourite animal command “Voetsak.” And it worked. Not just on the 2 buffalo in the road, but also on the 48 others hiding in the bush next to me. Because I lightened my load, the 127 km back to Harare were easier, despite 1800 m of uphill slog up out of the Shamva Valley.

Elsewhere around the world other Old Legs were also busy. Gordon Kent racked up a monster 22 hours in the saddle and 350 km in and around Toowoomba last week whilst Alan Crundall banked 210 km including some very big climbs. Alan hopes to build to 300 km this coming week. Gordon and Alan are both on brand-new Merida Big Nine 5000 bikes and loving them. In Witten, Germany CarolJoy managed to dodge the weather long enough to bank 245 km in the week, complete with 3000 m of climb. The other CJ in KZN was struck down by a bug but recovered in time to do the Cape Argus in 5 hours. Bruce was off the bike this week as he moved his training base back down to sea level.

The other big thing that happened this week was my book launch in Johannesburg. Writing books is very therapeutic but launching them, not so much. Thanks hugely to friends and family for turning out to support in great numbers. Book sales post the launch have been brisk, and Jenny and I are now sorted for Christmas and birthday presents for family and friends, both close and not so close, for the next 11 years. Even my mom bought a copy. Edna her carer reads her a chapter every day. But Bets is grumbling about censorship because I made Edna promise that she wouldn’t read my mom the rude bits.

Elsewhere in the world, it’s all about Corona virus, and about Australia running out of toilet paper. Maybe they also rode into a herd of buffalo?  The whole of Italy is now in lock down, but not before infecting big chunks of the rest of the world. Zimbabwe preparedness was slow out of the blocks but they’re catching up fast. When we flew out of Harare on the Monday morning, they only had face masks enough for 6 out of the 30 immigration and customs officials on duty. The 6 lucky fish might have looked smug behind their masks, but I couldn’t be sure. But when we flew back on the Friday, everyone was in masks. And the Port Health Authorities were one up on their South African counterparts in terms of preparedness, dishing out hand sanitizer, which I thought was very clever, and resplendent in masks and workshop safety goggles, which didn’t look too clever. I’ve done my bit to curb Corona by learning how to shake hands with my feet and by cutting Pangolin from my diet. If a billion plus Chinese follow suit, maybe pangolins will still be around to look back on Corona with something bordering on thanks.

And on the subject of thanks, huge ones go to the Kariba Golfing Society for helping us help Zim pensioners. Ditto to all at Netrade and all at Intaba Trading for coming on board as corporate sponsors of the 2020 Tour to the Skeleton Coast. Without corporate sponsors like Netrade and Intaba Trading, the Old Legs Tour would not be possible. look forward to flying their corporate flags proudly from the top of Dune 7, the world’s highest sand dune when eventually we reach Sossuvlei on June the 27th, providing we don’t become skeletons en route.

We are riding to raise money and awareness for Zimbabwe’s pensioners. If you would like to donate please go to one of the following platforms.

*  https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/oldlegstour2020 or alternatively, you can use the ZANE account -A/c No: ‪00576568, A/c Name : ZANE, Bank : TSB, Sort code: 30-99-74, BIC: TSBSGB2AXXX, IBAN:GBS12 TSB ‪3099 7400 5765 68

* In SA, you can make transfers to Act Name - Old Legs Cycle, Act Number – ‪9355070826, Absa Bank, Branch Number -632005

* In Zim people can transfer to Bulawayo Help Network via their CABS Platinum Account number 1124733450 or their Ecocash merchant 139149.

* Please quote Old Legs as your deposit reference.

Until my next blog, survive and enjoy if you can

Eric Chicken Legs de Jong.

Photos below – a pomegranate priced to go, my aerodynamic hairdo in the making, the Shamva Valley where not a lot of farming happens anymore pre the Belarus invasion, the Hippo Pools ride before the wrong turn, Gordon and his shiny new silver Merida, me grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat at my book launch and our shiny new Skeleton Coast page header