Startled awake at 4.10 am, I reluctantly roused myself. Anyone who knows me knows that I do not ‘do’ before sunrise. But with a 5 hour drive to Harare, a busy day shopping for supplies and an appointment with a lawyer that afternoon the early rise was a necessity. Overnight bag packed, cooler box (I must stop saying Esky, as no one knows what I am talking about) in the back of the Toyota, the essential mourning coffee skulled, I walked out to darkness and silence. Where was Tom? He’d slept through his alarm. We were soon safely at Pastor Charli and Gayle’s house in Kariba Heights, no elephants en route to delay us further. Driving in convoy suited both parties on this day. We were delivering their daughter’s luggage to Harare, they were transporting us back the following day.
Being more accustomed to the wildlife corridor, Tom drove the first stretch. We past a cave on the Makuti road, blocked to prevent accidents. Folklore has it that one person who fell in died, the body travelling through the underground cave system all the way to the Chinoyi 170 kms away. As he drove we chatted. Tom and I share many views and values but have decidedly different perspectives on a few key issues. Exploring the impact of childhood experiences, conscious and unconscious alike, on the development of personality, Tom’s style of emotional intelligence was at odds with mine. My strategy with him, which has been effective to date, is to plainly state “we have heard each other, I think it’s time to end the conversation here”. Later revisiting the topic one or other of us having reflected and moved more to the centre, we find some middle ground. On this morning the topic was deeply personal as we chatted about adoption. I sat agitated, unable to articulate what I wanted to say to Tom as the car veered off the jagged edge of bitchumen. Charlie pulled up behind us as we inspected the damage. Decades earlier in Zim I could change a tyre with impressive speed. At home I rely on the RACV, unable to shift the nuts even a millimeter. Here, with 2 fit albeit almost 60 year old men, I didn’t intend to lift a finger. It was quite straight forward after all, remove the flat and replace with the spare. That is until we discovered the spare was flat.
Gayle, daughter Precious, granddaughter Myra (the most beautiful placid four month old baby I have ever met) and I stayed by the car as Tom, Charlie and Kerry sped off to Elephant Walk, about 10 kms further down the Harare- Chirundu road, to repair the two tyres. Gayle and I sought out some sun to ward off the morning chill and chatted about her teaching job. Our conversation deepened as we talked about family, and their concern for Precious, their adopted child, who was bussing down to Bulawayo to live with her child’s father, to an uncertain future in a challenging economy. As we stood in the sun we heard a definitive SSSSSsssssss. Looking down to the back left tyre we were aghast, it too was now flat. When we called Charli with the news, he was initially incredulous, surely we were putting him on. All we could do was laugh. Charli and Gayle are very Christian, my beliefs more of a new age / esoteric spirituality, but we shared the belief this was all happening for a reason — perhaps to avoid a serious crash further on, or happening now when I had support rather than driving the car back to Harare on my own as had been my original plan.
A few drivers passing by offered assistance but we waved them on. One car did not heed our wave to continue on. Out jumped the tyre repair man, a sekuru, on his way to Elephant Walk where his compressor sits under a tree. His driver offered his jack and removed the third deflated tyre before setting off to Elephant Walk.
Messages came, “the tyre was unsafe, its amazing you didn’t have a blowout in all the months you’ve had it” (I think about the three 400km trips I’d done to/from Kariba at SPEED). It evolved, over the hours, that the tyre lining had been compromised by the wheel rim. Two hours later one tube less low rise tyre was back on, but when we attempted to replace the back with the spare, staring in disbelief, we discovered the rim did not fit the wheel. So back to Elephant Walk the guys went.
An hour later with uncertain tyres in place we set off. “This doesn’t feel right” I commented to Tom. I do wonder if Tom has met any intelligent women before or if it is just his manner, as his first response is to dismiss. An intelligent man himself, I do tend to be amused by this and push on. But on this morning I was still pissed off. Earlier, Sekuru had told them someone had deliberately damaged that stretch of road and possibly fixed a metal spike to increase the tyre repair trade, there were about 10 punctures happening per day. I softened a little in my blaming of Tom (he was gesturing, talking and looking toward me, not the road, when the puncture occurred). Ten kilometres along at Elephant Walk we stopped as planned to check the front tyre. I pulled off the road (Tom as the ‘back seat driver’ telling me how to do so!!). Once out of the car I saw the back left tyre as flat as a tack. I did not hold back from saying “I told you so”.
Charli, Tom and Kerry set off again to Karoi this time, a small town 40 kms away, to get the rims and tyres seen to. Gayle, Precious, Myra and I chatted with Sekuru. I risked the Blair (drop) toilet — not as pleasant as the bush toilet 2 hours earlier. We snacked and awaited messages of progress. As the hours ticked by, Tom, a coloured Zimbabwean who has lived overseas for decades, still adopts a Zimbabwean communication style with a “we are leaving now” when in fact transactions and repairs were still underway. Charli or Kerry were a more accurate source of progress. Ecocashing money to the driver, Sekuru, and Lameck (some guy in Karoi who sold us a new tyre), it was six hours after the puncture, and a mere 50 kms further along the road before we were finally on our way. With nearly 300 kms to go we hoped to be in Harare before dark. And uncertain if the tyres would hold, Tom opted to drive.
Gayle had missed a dental appointment and lunch with friends, I had missed my appointment with the lawyer (I am determined to follow up Malvern). I was feeling guilty and responsible for the stress everyone experienced that day. At Chinoyi we bought cold drinks (I never drink Sodas but that Pepsi was a good substitute for my afternoon coffee). With the stress of the tyres sorted, Harare less than 100 kms away, Tom said, “I’ve been thinking about what you were saying earlier today”. We’d found away to meet half way.
