How often do you get to travel to a country where a coup d’état recently took place, Cholera, Typhoid Fever and Malaria are possible, and you need to carry cash because the financial infrastructure is in disarray? Cathy and I fly to Zimbabwe next Wednesday, as part of a three country, month long trip with a few friends. While each third of the trip has it’s own highlights, the two weeks in Zim are the most intriguing for me.

Zimbabwe has had a tough road for a long time. Formerly Rhodesia (and before then, Southern Rhodesia), the country was under strongman Robert Mugabe for most of the past 37 years. He was accused of being a dictator responsible for economic mismanagement, widespread corruption, anti-white racism, human rights abuses and crimes against humanity. Last fall, he lost power in a coup by his first vice president, Emmerson Mnangagwa.

The country hasn’t fared much better under Mnangagwa. Elections held in August of this year were called corrupt and led to rioting and deaths in Harare, the capital. The international community continues to not invest in Zimbabwe and cash is scarce, with ATMs not functioning. It’s recommended that we bring cash in dollars, and in a number of denominations.

Medically, a number of potential issues could come up. According to the World Health Organization, both Cholera and Typhoid Fever are on the rise in Zim, with malaria always a possibility. We have received our Typhoid shots, and will start our malaria pills shortly. For cholera, well, we’ll stay away from untreated water and should be good to go. We are told the chances of contracting Sleeping Sickness, the Plague or Dengue Fever are pretty low. On the good news front, Zim is outside the Yellow Fever belt of Africa.

We were warned it is dangerous and foolhardy to swim in Lake Kariba, where we are spending five days on a houseboat. Evidently crocodiles are a bit of a problem, unless you are in a swimming cage (our boat has one). The cage won’t prevent the water-borne parasite bilharzia though. Bilharzia is a snail born parasite, which can infect the kidneys, urinary track and our intestines. Fortunately, It isn’t fatal.

Seriously, if you read some medical guidelines, warnings from guidebooks, squeamish reviews, and any number of internet sources, you wouldn’t travel to Zimbabwe, or for that matter, anywhere else. Personally, I’ve always found as long as you stay situationally aware, travel just about anywhere is fine.

For all of Zim’s problems, real or imagined, we can’t wait to get there. In Harare, we are going to a party thrown by friends of friends. We’ll also run with the Harare Hash House Harriers (a beer drinking group with a running problem). On Lake Kariba, we will see wildlife from a vantage point few people ever experience. The Hide, where we will go on safari, has one of the largest elephant populations in the world. Daily visitors to the camp often include elephant, giraffe, zebra, impala, waterbuck and kudu. Lion come in from time to time and wild dogs have made kills in full view of the camp. Finally, we will spend several days at Victoria Falls, one of the seven natural wonders of the world. Throughout the trip, I’m also looking forward to beers with the Hash, sundowners at Lake Kariba and the Hide, and Pink Gins on the veranda of the Vic Falls Hotel.

After two weeks in Zim, we’ll travel to fly-in safari camps in Botswana, where incidents of elephant poaching have increased. From there, it’s on to South Africa, with wineries, whales, penguins and a visit to the Cape of Good Hope. This is the vacation of a lifetime.

One last thought on Zimbabwe. On the off chance we DO run into trouble in Zim, you might get a missive from us, much like Warren Zevon would send: “Send lawyers, guns and money ….” ;-).

Marty, Magoo, Bill, Jim, Sinks and Roseanne – Cath and I will see you in Harare.

_______________

Addendum:

– Robert Mugabe and his wife Grace recently left the country and flew to Singapore. They are both in poor health and seeking treatment there. They were flown at Zimbabwe state expense.

– The bags in the photo are what one of us will use for the vacation. When traveling to the fly-in safaris in Botswana, we are limited to two bags each, no larger than 24x12x10 inches, and a total of 44 pounds.

– On a side note, this is my 100th blog. I first started blogging three years ago, with a goal of writing one every other week. I feel pretty good about 100 in three years. It’s been a fun journey, and I’m still endeavoring to “Live Life Exuberantly”.

On Mother’s Day, May 12th, 1968, Howard and Tim, my two best friends, and I were awarded the Boy Scout God and Country award. I recently came across a photo and newspaper article about the award. That minor event took place during one of the most tumultuous years in United States history, when the country was both figuratively and literally burning. When I saw the date of the presentation, I was shocked at the innocence of the photo, given the turmoil the country was going through. Vietnam, assassinations, race riots, student protests, police confrontations…

Growing up in Ottawa, Illinois, we were in a bit of a bubble as 12 and 13 year old 7th graders. While Ottawa may not have been Mayberry, it wasn’t far off. In the pre-internet age, there was a certain isolation and simplicity in the small-town Midwest. The paper might carry a story about Vietnam on the front page, but it mostly focused on news about the town, and the people in it. There were certainly Ottawans who served and died in Vietnam and I’m sure some OHS graduates protested at universities. But as a kid, I don’t recall a focus at Central Junior High, or in Ottawa, on the violence that was taking place across the country and the world.

Looking at 1968 historically, there was so much happening – In January, North Koreans seized the Pueblo and held it and the crew for two months. At the end of the month, the Tet offensive took place, marking the beginning of the end for the Vietnam war. Our presence in Vietnam would peak that year, with over half a million troops in country. The war would continue for another five years and 20,000 more dead Americans.

The bookends for Mother’s Day itself were Martin Luther King’s assassination in April and Bobby Kennedy’s in June. I remember my dad talking with our neighbor, Mr Classon, in the yard about whether the violence and burning taking place in Chicago following King’s murder would make it’s way to our small town of Ottawa, 80 miles away. They both thought probably not, and were correct in their assessment. The country was being ripped apart, but it didn’t seem to affect Ottawa. Looking back, Ottawa was a mostly white town and no one really talked about race.

Student protests and days of rage were taking place across the world that May and June, with violence commonplace. This culminated in Chicago that August with the protests at the Democratic National Convention. TV cameras captured the bloody clashes between police and demonstrators. Some thought the Olympics that October would bring relief, but then Smith and Carlos raised their fists on the victory platform during the playing of the Star Spangled Banner. The country seethed.

In November, Nixon won the presidency, setting in place the pieces that would evolve into Watergate four years later. In that same election, an avowed racist, George Wallace, won 13% of the presidential vote nation wide.

Quite the year. And yet, there were the three of us dedicating a year of our life towards our God and Country awards. We worked with Reverend Hearn, who was our Methodist minister from when we were even younger kids. We met regularly, studying church teachings and what it meant to be a Scout and a Methodist. Our final project was a map showing historical Methodist universities and institutions around the country. You can see the map board in the photo.

On Mother’s Day 1968, we were presented our awards at that Sunday’s church service. Our Scoutmaster, Farrell Brooks (not a Methodist) was in the congregation and watched our mothers pin the medals on our chests. A small piece of Americana taking place against a much broader, less idealistic backdrop. Interestingly, we all received letters of congratulations from the Governor, Otto Kerner Jr., who was later convicted of mail fraud, and sentenced to jail in 1973.

Tim, Howard and I continued in Scouts, with all of us achieving our Eagle awards. We pursued different paths in college and life, but have remained steadfast friends to this day. We occasionally talk about our innocence as kids, and the bubble that appeared to encase Ottawa. We ask ourselves now if it was really that idealistic, or whether as kids, we were just oblivious. I can’t answer the question, but for us, we all agree that it was a great place to grow up. We also agree that there were aspects of our maturity around racial and religious diversity that perhaps didn’t fully develop until adulthood, with greater exposure to life.

Fifty years later, and it’s now 2018. Today, we have an unending war, North Korea is in the news and racism seems on the rise. We don’t quite have violence in the streets, but demonstrations are taking place and the threat of violence appears to increase. Nike and Koepernick raise passions on both sides of the “respecting the flag” debate. With the internet and social media providing constant coverage of today’s events, I wonder how our youth will reflect on these times in fifty years. 2018 doesn’t appear to have as much room for innocence, as that crossroads year of 1968 did in Ottawa.

_______

A couple of interesting addendum from my research for this blog:

First, my Boy Scout Handbook from 1965 talks about some of the requirements for the God and Country award, which was focused towards the Protestant faith. It also talks to the requirements for the equivalent awards in the Muslim, Catholic, Jewish, Buddhist, and Mormon faiths, among others. Today, they have added other religions as well. Maybe there’s something for all of us to learn there.

Second, the Boy Scouts continue to progress. The twelfth point of the Scout Law is: “A scout is reverent.” In today’s world, with so many questions about organized religion, I wondered how the Scouts were handling that. I found this on their web page in a discussion of being reverent ( http://boyscouttrail.com/content/content/scout_law-1760.asp ):

“ From the Scout Handbook – A Scout is reverent. A Scout is reverent toward God. He is faithful in his religious duties. He respects the beliefs of others…..

…..Many outdoors people claim that the wilderness is their ‘church’ rather than a specific structure or organization. These people revere in the awesome power of God by being in the thick of natural creation. The reverence expressed for the world and its creation is common ground that all scouts can reach when struggling to understand the last point of the Scout Law…..

…… Respecting the beliefs of others can be a challenge. It does not mean to accept and believe those other beliefs. It means to allow other people the freedom to believe what they have found to be true in their lives….in troops with scouts from various beliefs, we need to be careful not to promote specific practices of one group.”

Just some food for thought.

**********

Thanks to my good friends, Tim Stouffer and Howard Johnson for their help on this blog, and the honest discussions we continue to have.

It was late at night and we were standing at the bar when Howard leaned over and said “Wolfgang is bringing out some special raw pork for us to try.” What?!

It was sometime in the late ‘80s, probably 1988. Our friend Howard, who I’d known since Kindergarten, came to visit us in Germany. He’d been in England with the Pythons, where I think he was researching his latest book. After finishing with them, he popped over the channel and caught a train to Worms. He had visited us several times before and this was just a low key trip. Maybe go to a weinfest, but otherwise, stay in Rheindurkheim and sample some local food, bier and wein.

On the night in question, Cathy was at the University for a class, so it was just us guys. I put our dog Top on a leash, and Top, Howard I walked to our favorite Gasthaus, Sportheim. Top was always welcome there, and as much of a regular as we were. Cath and I knew the owners, Vroni and Wolfgang, pretty well. In fact, we had travelled to Spain with them the year before.

When we arrived at Sportheim, I reintroduced Howard to Vroni and Wolfgang. They had met Howard a time or two before during his previous visits and welcomed him like a long lost friend. We sat at a table and ordered a couple of biers and dinner. After dinner, we migrated to the small bar where a few of the regulars were standing and I introduced Howard. We joined them and ordered another round of drinks. Howard didn’t really speak much German and most of the locals only spoke limited English, so I acted as translator. It worked out pretty well and the regulars did a good job making Howard feel welcome.

As the night wore on, the crowd thinned. I let Top off his leash and he wandered around and barked “Guten Abend” to Blackie, Wolfgang’s dog. Finally, it was just Howard and I at the bar, with Vroni and Wolfgang standing behind it. It was past closing time, but everyone was enjoying the evening and in no hurry for it to end. We were having Asbachs (German brandy) and Vroni and I were chatting about nothing in particular. Howard and Wolfgang, although neither spoke the other’s language, seemed to communicate with each other just fine. I’ve often noticed that the free flow of alcohol over the course of an evening greatly improves language comprehension. It certainly worked at Sportheim.

About this time, Wolfgang disappeared into the back of the Gasthaus and Howard leaned over and said “Wolfgang is bringing out some special raw pork for us to try – he seasoned it here at the Gasthaus.”

“What!? Howard, I’m sure you misunderstood. He must be bringing out some cooked sausage, or leftover schnitzel to eat.” But no, Howard was insistent that Wolfgang had some raw ground pork that was slightly spiced and he wanted us to try it – it was almost like tartar. Plainly Howard had misunderstood. It was late, we’d been drinking a bit and these things happen.

About then, Wolfgang arrived back at the bar, with a loaf of bread and a small plate of gherkins. And….wait a minute…..what’s that in his other hand?… a plate of raw ground pork. Howard looked at me beaming. “See? I told you he was bringing raw pork.”

Wolfgang put some small plates in front of us and invited us to try the pork. I looked at him and said “Ummmmm, Wolfgang – are you sure this is a good idea? Aren’t you afraid of trichinosis?”.

Wolfgang looked at me like I was stupid. He explained how trichinosis was pretty much gone in Germany, and besides, this pork came from the very best butcher shop in Rheindurkheim (Adolf’s) and from a local farm (Helmut’s). We had nothing to worry about. He was trying a new seasoning blend and wanted our opinion.

We spread some of the pork sausage on the bread and tentatively tried it. Wow! This was good. The pork was seasoned with spices to something near a bratwurst flavor, but slightly different. In fact, it turned out that Wolfgang was going to make sausages (for cooking) the next day, but he wanted to share some with us that evening. We had more sausage with the bread and a couple of Gherkins, and washed it all down with a bit more beer. Now, everyone was talking to everyone and having a good time, and we all complemented Wolfgang on the sausage.

It grew late and finally, it was time to go. We said auf wierdersehen, put Top on his leash and walked back to our house. There, we headed to bed, and a great night’s sleep. Neither of us had any adverse affects from the pork.

To me, the most interesting part of that evening wasn’t that we ate raw pork, or that we didn’t get sick from eating raw pork. What I really loved, was watching two friends find a way to communicate with each other, even though neither knew much of the other’s language. How on earth did Wolfgang communicate “I’m bringing some raw pork for you and Max to try. I think you will like it. The pork is from Adolf’s, but I did the seasoning myself. I’ll be right back.”

It’s amazing how easy it is to communicate, if people are willing to try.

‘Wiedersehen….

********

Special thanks to Howard Johnson for clearing up some of the story from that somewhat foggy evening….