Zimbabwe has just celebrated Robert Mugabe’s birthday…
NB Please note that the views in this blog are mine and not reflect those of the charities I support.
But thankfully this blog is about bicycles, strictly no politics. Thank God, because politics can hurt my head.
Whilst off the subject of politics, Green Day the band would have been more spot on with their American Idiot lyrics had they found words that rhyme with dumb narcissist with a fake orange bronze tan and a silly combover.
Politics in the Third World is entirely more predictable, mostly because it is rinse and repeat. As I write, Zimbabwe is bracing itself for another coup, supposedly pencilled in for this weekend by war veterans irked because the President wants to fiddle the constitution like others and extend his term in office. But not for nothing our President is called the Crocodile…
But as mentioned, this blog is strictly no politics. So, moving on to the bicycle part of the blog, I really, really hate crocodiles.
Because where we now live is too hot and too humid to ride bicycles, I paddle my kayak instead. Unfortunately, the dam we live on is populated by a number of very big crocodiles, escaped from a croc farm and unfortunately constipated when it comes to people, as in they don’t give a shit.
Because I hate crocodiles, and because I am a cautious paddler verging on timid, I have taken every precautionary step known to man to mitigate against them, plus others that I made up. For instance, I christened my boat the HMS Inedible and always paddle with a 9mm starter pistol, an axe, a Bear Grylls knife and a Philips screwdriver sharpened into a viscous spike that can easily go through even crocodile skin, plus a deafening airhorn on the deck of my boat.
But I now know that there are crocodiles out there who are deaf to airhorns. I know this to be true, because I bumped into one of the aforementioned big bastards on my maiden voyage. Please note that for the purposes of this blog, the word bump covers distances up to 30 meters, or more.
Mindful not to panic, I quickly sounded my airhorn, which unfortunately presented more like a wet fart than deafening. Whence upon I commenced panicking, especially because I have a proven track record of shooting myself in the foot, and or incurring severe blood loss whilst handling sharp objects. Operating on the premise that crocodiles would rather not eat meat that tastes shit, I fouled the water around my kayak instead, and fled, elevating my average cadence from 28 strokes per minute, to 87 strokes, almost getting my kayak up on the plane.
But all is well that ends well. I’ve since plotted on a map where the big bastard crocodiles lurk, and strenuously avoid those spots whilst paddling, often with Jenny riding shotgun in the boat. It is so beautiful out there on the water. I’ve seen a family of otters just enjoying, and an osprey dive-bombing his lunch, and I saw my first long-toed lapwings, which were thankfully more impressive in the flesh than in my bird book, plus malachite kingfishers and giant ones, and fish eagles too numerous to mention, plus a leguaan who also got my heart to racing.
Jenny and I are so blessed to live where we live. But we live in a bubble. Outside our bubble, Zimbabwe grows ever tougher, especially for pensioners. Enjoying a failed currency for the sixth time, Zimbabwe has wound the clock back 15 years and we are back to empty supermarket shelves and closed businesses left, right and centre. Charities are hugely under pressure, with more and more people needing help, and donations drying up. Trump pulling the plug on USAID hasn’t helped.
For the record, USAID has done a powerful amount of good in Africa. I can’t tell you how many clinics, hospitals, etc that we’ve pedalled past that were funded by USAID, helping millions and millions, including my ex-foreman for the last 30 years, who shall remain nameless and is mentioned to allow you to put a face to the millions impacted by Trump’s Executive Order. NB My ex-foreman and fellow struggle comrade, once told me he liked America, not just because they pay for his medicine, but because they sanctioned Mugabe.
NB Please know that US foreign aid was miniscule as compared to their GDP, just a quarter of a quarter of 1 percent, and that is not a typo. Also NB, the story about sending $100 million dollars’ worth of USAID condoms to Hamas so they could make floating bombs was fake news.
I accept that pulling the plug on foreign aid is Trump’s prerogative, but hope that Europe steps up to plug the gap, and even China, although I doubt that, because they wrote the book on transactional, which Trump has now obviously read. If Europe doesn’t, the number of dinghies headed their way will double or treble. Alas.
But I digress, again. Back to bicycles. I have already started training for the Blue Cross in August, from Zimbabwe’s lowest point to her highest, raising money for the SPCA. This will be the 30th edition of the Blue Cross and we are looking for a bumper field of riders, runners and walkers a.k.a. pedestrians, so please sign up and start training.
And then in September, some friends and I will pedal 2700 kilometres across Europe, starting in Perpignan, France, ending on the Algarve, via the Pyrenees and the Camino. My preparations for the assault on Europe are already at an advanced stage. I now know that arrivederci is actually goodbye in Italian, and not hallo in Spanish and Portuguese as previously thought. And should I happen to bump into Christiano Ronaldo, I will be able to fluently talk beer with him, and also prawns, chicken and ice, but not cheese, ham, and snails, unless he also speaks French.
Going forward, I am unashamedly doing bucket list stuff on my bike, one big Tour per year, starting with the Camino, hopefully followed by Madagascar, and Alaska, although I might now swap that to Canada. Worryingly, bumping into a grizzly bear on my bicycle has been on my bucket list for a while. At which point I will hang up my bicycle, unless of course my bucket list gets longer. NB Because they are bucket list events and before any fingers are pointed, we’ll pay our own way with all proceeds going to charity.
The Europe Tour will be a double header from a fundraising point of view. I’ll ride to raise money for the pensioners as per normal, but to celebrate the memory of our son Daniel, I’ll also be riding to raise awareness for mental health, and in support of a mental health charity.
Until my next blog, have fun, do good, and especially do empathy – Eric de Jong
Photos below – a crocodile almost as scary as my one, me and my struggle comrade, and someone else’s snapshots from inside our bubble. My photos are always recognizable by my thumb.
* Names and images may have been changed for privacy reasons
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