Here she was, a lapsed Lutheran female in a smelly animal market trying to buy a sheep from a long-robed male Muslim trader. Oh, the things you learn!
I’m hoping nobody is going to get hurt by this reptile that is taking on gargantuan proportions in my imagination. I see all four poised over the sink hole with sticks raised. I’m staying out of the way, no stick handy. No one seems to expect me, the useless expat, to take part in this, and I love them for it.
If you’ve lived abroad for decades and you’re a foreigner in your own country, where do you go when you want to grow some roots? Greedy, I went in search of paradise.
I had planned to eat mopane worms tonight, but instead I’m facing a hamburger and fries. I am not amused. Having traveled thousands of miles across the African continent I have arrived in a country with the exotic and lyrical name of Zimbabwe, land of the fabled Shona chiefs. And now see me sit here in a restaurant called the Silver Spur.