I have been in Harare Zimbabwe for a week. I am sitting at the very modern and quite well laid out airport waiting for my flight home. I live in Northern California and it takes 4 flights and over 35 hours (including stopovers) to get from Harare to Sacramento. I live on six beautiful wooded acres. I am in the majestic California mountains half-way between Sacramento and Lake Tahoe. Having traveled all over the world, I know I am one of the luckiest people on this planet. I live in a mountain paradise.
A few weeks ago I came to Zim for the first time. I had read much about Zimbabwe in the American press and was expecting to come to a repressive, military run country, where soldiers could be found on every corner harassing the impoverished, unhappy people.
I have been to many African and Asian countries, and have seen my share of poverty, filth and deprivation. I expected the infrastructure of Harare to be beyond repair and for the roads to be potholed and crumbling. I thought I would see the sick and beggars everywhere. I was sure Zim would thrust in my face, the suffering of humanity as I have seen in other third world countries.