Currency Smuggling - Into Zimbabwe - 29 June 2002
Hippy gets in trouble (thanks to Pat)
Harare is cool. Brrr.
And when we got there, the cupboard was bare.
Round and round the acacia bush
Hippy gets in trouble (thanks to Pat)
Now, I donít know what that press is saying about Zim at the moment but all information from travellers coming the other way is that it is a beautiful place with good people and a mad government and an economy running out of control in a hyper-inflation kind of way. In a vain attempt to control the value of the Zim dollar that banks offer 50 dollars to a US dollar, whereas the parallel rate in the exchange offices is over 600. We werenít sure what would happen with our remaining Meticals on the other side so when we were offered a good rate we took it.
Everything went smoothly through the border and my last coins were spent on a couple of boiled eggs. The Zimbabwe border a couple of kilometres down the road, was straightforward until Pat came up with the customary forms to fill in. Passport number, date of date etc. and a currency form. Unbeknown there was a limit of 15,000 Zim dollars that you can bring in.
We had 50,000 between us. Pat returned from form delivery.
The guy behind the customs counter had been very pointed in his question ìAre you sure that this is all the cash that you have.î I assured him that this was all.
We have plenty of pockets in this bike gear we will just have to chance it. Pat encouraged me to secrete some of the undeclared cash.
I knew I was being watched but hoped he was no-one important. I was wrong. The customs officer insisted that I open every pocket, including sections for the bike armoury. I was well and truly caught as the money came tumbling out.
Then came the questions ëWhy did I lie?í I basically went for the truth, we had no idea there was a limit and as we were caught out, we thought we might get away with hiding it. Pat had no excess cash on him, so while he led them to the bike to continue their search I was led off. This was one of those moments when I think of all the possible scenarios, is this a scam to get cash off foreigners, is there a level of baksheesh to pay for the indiscretion, will I be arrested?
I thought my best way to approach the baksheesh option, was to not be too blatant as being arrested for bribery was the last thing I wanted so I decided the subtle approach of ëIs there a tax I can pay here?í No joy. I asked if it was possible to change it back into US as there was no limit on other currencies for foreigners, but again no joy. The two officials just kept repeating the limit stated on the wall on a hand written sign. As they filled out a receipt in triplicate for the 20,000 that they were confiscating I decided that this was either an elaborate scam or they were really doing their job. He did in fairness give us the address of the Inland Revenue in Harare to try and claim the money back.
We left the border, with our tails between our legs and thankful that we had not been arrested. On the way on to Harare, I ran through all the places on my person that he had not checked, and whether it would be sensible to pursue the matter at the Inland Revenue or whether this may further complicate the matter. I also pondered where our money was going to end up. I thought it would be nice to think that it would be used to build hospitals or pay teachers, but this is Zimbabwe and all information seems to suggest that money has a habit of disappearing into the pockets of officials higher rather than lower in the system.
Harare itself has a feeling of the wealthy , we went down lovely tree-lined suburban streets passing people in new Mercedes. This was by far the most up and coming town we had been in since Western Europe. Following the LP map we made it to our chosen accommodation, described as a colonial house surrounded by jacaranda trees with bar restaurant and pool. Not bad eh! We entered the driveway and it was clear that the times they are a-changing. The pool was empty the bar closed, and not a guest in sight. Nat, the owner, looked as if the strain of the last few years was taking itís toll.
Nat filled us in on some of the goings on in Zim with regard to the politics. As our man at the dam had told us, payments for electricity from abroad are not happening due to lack of hard currency. Power cuts coming soon. Petrol supplies are likely to be cut off soon as the supply from Libya has been secured on the basis of trading it for farming land in Zim. Bizarre but true. Mr M has failed to deliver on this promise. Cooking oil, salt, sugar and maize flour are set to disappear from the shelves shortly due to a variety of reasons ñ depending on who you talk to. Mostly the news blames America, Britain or the white farmers.
Staying at the Gaff is a mad Israeli guy, in his fifties, who has filled us in at length about what terrible propaganda merchants everyone is and how the Israelis are the legal owners of all of Palestine (as was) and clearly the Palestinians are a bunch of bastards for wanting somewhere to live. His source of information is the Israel news service which he assures us is totally unbiased. Wanker.
After a lovely night sleep in the most comfortable bed since Newbold Verdon, we headed into the centre of Harare. Nice city in a modern kind of way and well kept. Many of the tower blocks display a certain amount of architectural taste.
And when we got there, the cupboard was bare.
We engaged all our detective powers to track down the VSO office. The telephone directory gave an address and so we thought we were on to a winner. Wrong. The office has moved and so the nice chap now in that office directed us to the new location 500m down the road. We had little joy and so we called in at another office where the nice girl on reception had the brainwave of ringing the number in the directory to find out the true location.
We walked back in the direction that we had just come and arrived at the stated address to find no markings on the fence, but an impressive tangle of razor wire on the top. We gained access by ringing the buzzer and passing through the huge steel gate that glided out of the way.
In the reception, we waited for someone to finish on the phone and attend to us and Hippy spied through an office window that there was little of use lying around apart from a pc. When we got to talk to Nesta, the field director, (for that was she on the phone) she explained that the VSO program had pulled out of Zim last December and would not be returning for a variety of reasons; lack of security and change of VSO policy with regards to target countries to name but two.
Nesta was delightful company and quite unworried by the fact that the closure of the program spelt the end of her career with VSO. She did seem incredibly confident and capable and I am sure that she will find a good alternative career in no time. She confirmed the worries that we have re. Zim. When food, power and petrol dry up there is likely major problems. Should we hoon through as fast as possible or make the most of the fact that it may be extremely difficult to visit here for some time. Plan B. Oh, and we picked up a rather natty pair of VSO Zim t-shirts at a very reasonable price in the closing down sale.
Round and round the acacia bush
Our next day was spent attempting to recover our border losses and get a flight booked for the UK for Trish and JPs nuptials. There are apparently four Intermarket Buildings in Harare and we now know them all intimately. Regrettably, the Revenue Authority that deals with refund claims is not housed in any of them even though the nice guy at the border had told us so.
It is in fact housed in one of the two Kurimba Buildings. The second one that we visited, of course. The very nice lady informed us that as we had attempted to deceive the border officials there was no chance of a refund. Fair cop, guv, but it was worth a try.
The Lying Planet has the locations of all of the airways office in Harare shown on their map of the centre. Regrettably, with the exception of British Airways, all of the offices are no longer in their indicated locations. BA quoted $1,500 (Chrysso take note!) each to fly from Cape Town to London and back so we pissed ourselves laughing and sought realistic prices elsewhere.
Not finding the other airlines, we resorted to a travel agent after a couple of jars of foaming ale in the micro brewery. I have always found travel agents and estate agents much better company when Iím half cut. Fair play, this guy sorted us out with reasonable flight prices and even a stop over in Amsterdam for me to Stag with JP and crew. Why do I do these things?