Community

We wait in a patch of shade by the side of the road as, one by one, the cars speed by. Lina has been feeling sick since last night and she can’t really face up to cycling another 40km in 40+ degrees heat. By now it’s 2pm and we have been trying to hitch a ride for three hours. At last our pathetic waves seem to work and a pickup truck pulls over.

On the ride to Mutare, the biggest town in the east of Zimbabwe, we marvel at how much faster you travel in a car. It would have taken us around four hours to cycle, given Lina’s condition. Now it’s half an hour’s drive and our savior won’t even accept money for the lift. Lina’s health is somewhat restored by the halloumi salad and fresh juice from a cafe that also doubles as a plant nursery.

Relieved to be getting out of the sun we head over to the local golf club. It’s not the sort of posh one you’d find in Miami or Oxbridgenshire (or some other pretentious place). Instead they allow campers to pitch their tent to get a little extra income. We are delighted to find another cyclist camping there. Silvan from Switzerland has been cycling in Africa for 2.5 years already. He insists that we both draw animals on his tent.

We also receive a warm welcome from Kevin, the superintendent. Born and raised in this town, he has traveled the world as a professional caddie and now specializes in friendliness towards other travelers. He scores some fresh milk for us and shows us the giant pair of resident eagle owls. As has become our custom, we take a couple of days off. We need to gather strength before committing to an out-and-back trip to find cheesecake in the mountains.

After a sweaty morning with inclines up to 12% we reach the little cafe where you pay 14USD for one piece of cheesecake. We order white chocolate New York style and coffee. Here you get free refills on everything, even the cake. Worth every penny. After spending a night in the mountains, watching a smoldering hill (it’s burning season) and clutching our overcheesecaked stomachs, we roll back into Mutare.

On the way into town Lina’s chain suddenly snaps. Or so we thought at first. Our quick and expert investigation reveals that the chain is weirdly slack. The rear derailleur doesn’t seem to provide tension anymore. Back at the golf club with Kevin, we take it apart and actually find the culprit. A tiny spring has bent slightly and probably popped out of its casing. While attempting to bend it back we succeed twice in breaking off the end.

It’s Friday (day 196 of the trip) and after many minor inner tube punctures we are now facing the first serious issue. Well, we knew it had to happen at some point and count ourselves lucky that it happened in a town with shops and nice, helpful people and not in some remote part of Mozambique where we couldn’t even explain the problem to anyone.

In rural Zimbabwe there is always someone who knows someone and everyone is happy to lend a hand, even to strangers. This community spirit is something we now learn to appreciate. The nephew of Tempe (our amazing host from the last post) happens to have a bike shop in Harare and promises to look through the spare parts bin on Monday.

Lynne and Brian, a couple of locals who walk their dogs on the golf course every morning offer to give us a ride to the cheesecake place again for an annual fair. This time we demonstrate great strength of character by not eating more cheesecake. Instead we buy lots of other cake, milk tarts and Dutch cheese. Well done us! It’s great that we have the cycling trip as an excuse and a conversation starter.

On the weekend we while away the time by getting haircuts and visiting the eagle owls. We also chat for hours with Jessica and Steven, two Dutch overlanders. After a couple of days we have, at least on paper, fixed all the problems in the world (including corruption and racism). If only it were so easy. Lynne and Brian invite us all to their house for a sundowner where we learn a lot about Zimbabwe’s history and current challenges.

On Monday it’s time to be stressed out. First about whether Graham will find a spare spring of the right specifications, then about how it will travel all the way from Harare to Mutare and finally how many feathers will be ruffled in the process. The last point is particularly agonizing for us. Especially because Kevin, who is handling the whole business, is less of a pushover than us.

But by the end of the day we have ourselves a brand new baby spring. It’s funny how this little hiccup got us in touch with so many amazing people. Now, we saddle the old steel donkeys once more and head north to find more milk tarts at a famous dairy and hopefully many more surprise friends.