The Third World as seen from the saddle

Bollocks. Only in typing this opening sentence of this week’s blog have I noticed that it is already April. How time flies when you’re stuck in lockdown, especially when you share lockdown with a dog called Chuck. Unfortunately, the word disgust features prominently in this week’s blog. Which is a bummer. There is enough depressing crap going on out there without me dragging you down further. So, I thought better I kick off with a Chuck story.

In addition to annoying and amusing, Chuck also astounds, especially when it comes to his diet. Currently he devours 2 kgs of dog cubes, rice and meat a day, which takes him just seconds, plus what he steals from the dog cube sack, plus up to 10 fresh eggs a day, plundered directly from beneath Jenny’s free- range hens. And yesterday morning, he also ate my fourth favourite cap, plus a jar of Vaseline, plus Jenny’s pin cushion, complete with pins and needles. We were able to recover the semi-chewed pin cushion, but no pins and needles. I’ll look for signs of those when next he has a haystack sized pooh.
The Old Legs had their hearts set on pedalling out of Harare in the general direction of Namibia’s Skeleton Coast in 7 weeks, but with rumours doing the rounds that governments in the region will roll the lockdowns over for another 3 weeks, so our departure date will have to be delayed. Bruce Fivaz is especially bleak, like a kid who’s just been told bummer dude, Christmas this year is only going to happen in February. But we remain determined to ride the 2020 Tour, as soon as the borders re-open. Although we worry about riding the Namib desert in summer heat.

If the extended lockdown gives us some badly needed extra time to get Zimbabwe’s medical house in order before the Coronavirus spike happens, maybe it will save lives. And God knows we need that extra time. As of a week ago, Harare’s main infectious diseases hospital did not have a single working ventilator. Drugs, medicines, basic medical supplies in government hospitals are such that Zimbabwe’s doctors this week filed an urgent lawsuit in the High Court, compelling government to provide adequate Coronavirus protection for public hospitals and healthcare workers. Even access to running water in government hospitals is described as a challenge. But even more disgusting than Harare Hospital general wards and ablutions pictured below, is a car park full of top of the range Land Rover Discoveries, also pictured, private vehicles belonging to Government Health Services board members, paid for by government, the same government that is being sued by its own doctors for not providing drugs, medicines, bandages and the most basic of medical supplies. Catch 22, Zimbabwe style, enough to make a person sick, and you don’t want to be sick anywhere near a government hospital in Zimbabwe.

I’m guessing the doctor’s urgent court application will get parked for the foreseeable future, because High Court Judges are in lockdown. But our esteemed Supreme Court Justices are obviously made of sterner stuff. They braved lockdown and Coronavirus last week to uphold a ruling that Nelson Chamisa, who polled 2.5 million votes in the 2016 election, is no longer the President of the MDC, and should be replaced by a Mnangagwa lackey who polled just 25 thousand votes in the same election, i.e. less than half of one percent of the country’s registered voters. That this cheapest of political stunts was rolled out in the middle of a generational pandemic that could kill tens of thousands, possibly even hundreds of thousands, is even more disgusting than the Harare Hospital ablutions. Those of you living outside of Zimbabwe might look at this as just another example of disjointed and disorganized African politics. But you need to know that our government employs a massive building full of civil servants and secret policemen whose only job, all day and every day, is to drag the opposition party down, to infiltrate, destabilize, subvert, disrupt and destroy from within. And for sure, the MDC’s new court appointed leaders will all be driving shiny, fancy, top of the range Land Rovers, just like those belonging to the Health Services board members, just like those belonging to the Supreme Court Justices, all paid for by the government. Alas.

Government have started mass disinfecting busy city centre streets, bus stops and high traffic areas, which is a good thing. They’re using Hydrogen Peroxide, and our very large fleet of state-of-the-art riot crowd control water cannons. Luckily, we’ve got a bunch of those in stock and in working order. If only ventilators could also be used as tools of repression, maybe we’d also have lots of those as well. Alas.
Zimbabwe has reported 11 confirmed cases of Coronavirus, with 3 now dead apparently, may they R.I.P, but I fear that is just the tip of an iceberg, more to do with the scale of testing ongoing. Yesterday, just 16 people were tested country wide. And in the week where President Ed reversed his decision to shut down the informal food markets in the townships, where people live cheek to jowl, 8 or more in a 2 roomed house, where water doesn’t run and where people can’t afford hand sanitizer, we’re starting to hear about people dying in townships of Coronavirus like symptoms. A friend who works for a charity in Dzivaresekwa, a high-density township just 7 km from where I live, told me about a spate of deaths of people she knew being buried untested by men in blue suits and masks. Scary stuff. God help us. Because I can’t see our government doing much.

Some of the world’s leaders are doing this virus crisis good, others not so good. I can’t believe that in the middle of the worst global pandemic in a hundred years, Donald Trump is talking about withdrawing US funding for the WHO, for being Chinacentric. For Donald, it is still all about the money. He’s like a CEO sulking because his balance sheet is going down the toilets. If I was an American, I’d be rooting for the Cuomo guy from New York to join the Presidential race. He is properly leading from the front. Also doing good for me is Boris Johnson. I hope he gets better soon. I do like Boris. He once described Jeremey Corbin as a benign herbivore and a mugwump. And Jeremy was a prime suspect when my 5th favourite pair of riding shorts went missing. But my joint Dick of Day awards go to the leaders of Turkmenistan and North Korea who have yet to declare a single case of Coronavirus, and to the President of Belarus who is telling his citizens don’t worry, just drink more vodka.

They say that God helps those who help themselves. I’m hugely proud of the way Zimbabweans are pulling together in these hugely troubled times. I am also hugely proud that the Old Legs Tour is playing their part. We’ve adopted a growing group of pensioners living outside of Harare’s care facilities, we phone them once or twice in the week, and we deliver food parcels to them, so they don’t have to go out shopping. Today is a delivery day and I am so excited. This week our pensioners are getting milk, bread, vegetables, frozen chicken portions, mincemeat, a bunch of flowers and a washable facemask, handmade with lots of love. Within the group of oldies, we have people who bring new meaning to the phrase doing it tough. I’ve got an old guy aged 85, suffering fibrosis of the lungs, plus congenital heart failure, plus a whole bunch of other stuff. He is on oxygen 24/7 and his electricity hasn’t worked since December 10th last year. And I’ve never heard him complain. I’ve been visiting him for a couple of months. With the help of a donor, The Old Legs Tour pays for his oxygen. Included in his food parcel this week is a bag of mealie meal for his carer. Which I know will put a big smile on my old guy’s face. And when you do good, you feel good. Which is exactly why we pedal off to ridiculously faraway places like the Skeleton Coast. As mentioned, we were supposed to start riding on May 30th but that’s not going to happen. We’re all trying to stay fit in lockdown. Bruce Fivaz stuck in Hillcrest, KZN, says he’s trying to stay fit by avoiding Jane and her very long list of DIY chores that he could be doing. If anyone in Hillcrest has a stationary bike that they are not using, please let me know.

Granddaughters Cailyn and Jocelyn are helping me keep fit. On Sunday we held the 2020 Garden Olympics. First up were footraces, two laps around the swimming pool and back onto the veranda. Because she is only 6, I beat Cailyn easily, by the recommended 2.5 metres. Sick of always losing, Cailyn mixed things up with a tortoise race, with the gold medal going to the slowest runner, and rotten egg status to the fastest. But acrimony set in when she accused me of cheating by falling asleep on the first lap. Acrimony doesn’t even begin to describe the croquet match that followed the foot races. Whilst I’m man enough to let bygones be bygones, for the record, Jocelyn is a cheat, and so is Cailyn.

And so is Carl Wilson. He’s got the annual Baggage Wars off to an early start by trying to sneak a 215-lt mattress on Tour. I’m trying to plan how we pack the trailers and roof racks so I asked everyone to send the measurements of the kit they are taking on Tour. 215 litres is huge, bigger than the double bed mattress in my bedroom. Baggage wars happen every year before Tour because space is extremely limited, and I have to ask riders to adopt a minimalistic approach when packing their kit. Because Adam Selby can’t spell minimalistic, he tried to buy 20 lt from Bill Annandale with the promise of a slightly burnt Land Rover Discovery. And now this year, we’ve got Carl with his double bed outsized camping mattress. But because Carl especially needs his beauty sleep, and because I am an altruistic Tour Leader, so as to allow Carl his comforts, I’ve decided to forgo packing any of my personal hair care products.

I was going to clean out my cupboard during lockdown but because it’s only three weeks long, I haven’t. Instead, I practice packed our camping kit for the Skeleton Coast. And now I can add dog bites to the list of health issues I need to worry about. When he saw me getting tents, stretchers and kit bags ready for packing, Wallace staked his claim to a place in the boot of the car. When he does find out that he’s not coming to Namibia, I worry that Wallace will bite me. I’m going to have to win him over with the promise of a new Land Rover Discovery.

Until my next blog, please stay safe, sane and enjoy if you can

Eric Chicken Legs de Jong
Photos below – inside a government hospital, in the carpark outside, disinfecting the streets and Wallace staking his claim to a spot in the boot.