WARNING: POTHOLES, NEXT 9 600Km

About the Book

In Africa, potholes are a given, it’s just the size which is variant so the saying goes: If you can see a giraffe’s head sticking out of a pothole, then you know it’s a big one! Hence the dire warning sign: ‘Beware Potholes: Next 9 600 km’. But Africa’s roads can imitate life and life’s journey can be the same. Hard times, crippling sorrows, persecution, betrayals, and natural disasters hit most of us occasionally, and they can leave us devastated. We don’t always have the wherewithal to rebuild, restore or reconcile broken relationships without help. Sometimes we hit potholes and carry on going, or there’s minor damage but occasionally we fall in and no amount of struggle will get us out. Then we need help, hope or courage from others who’ve been in that pothole before. I’ve hit some awful potholes, too, but found wisdom and humour from others who’ve done it before. So I’m passing in on. Are you willing to grab your sense of humour and your vellies (bush shoes) or simply come barefoot on an adventure with my Min Pin, Aspen and me? Closely followed by Benjie but that’s okay because he doesn’t bite. It’ll include a war, a survival course, white water rafting, plus the love of family and friends. In John 16: 33 Jesus said: In this world you will have tribulation. And He wasn’t kidding. But He did also promise sustenance from above to those who trust Him. This adventure, lived in the power of the risen Jesus Christ and His amazing grace, is one that I hope will inspire you to rise above your circumstances and meet new challenges, make the most of every day despite the pain. In life’s dark moments there is always help at hand, one way or another.

About the Author

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Our lives have been dogged by instability and a total lack of continuity – as far as national interests go, anyway. I have lived in the Federation of Northern and Southern Rhodesia and Nyasaland, Rhodesia, Zimbabwe-Rhodesia and Zimbabwe; all of which happen to be the same beautiful country. I now live in the U.K. (which I trust will not change its name in a hurry) with my husband, three children who are now young adults, plus my parents whose wisdom and wit have helped me compile these writings. The rest of the family is now scattered elsewhere in the world. Ian Smith’s UDI came into being when I was too young and ignorant to understand there would be consequences. Taking on our own identity in the face of world-wide condemnation merely seemed a very heroic thing to do. During the resultant ‘bush war’ I was older and cared deeply and lost too much to let it go and leave when it finally ended and we lost in 1980. Losing a war and remaining in the country where it was fought does not mean that you have necessarily changed sides or admitted that the cause you fought for was wrong. It was initially based on an optimistic attempt to dedicate my life and work to those youngsters who’d given their lives to a cause and a war that we could never win. It was my way of ensuring their sacrifice was not in vain. Then it became a much wider goal; closing the racial divide between black and white and working together for the good of a still-beautiful country. Although this was complicated by the Gukurahundi massacres in the 1980’s, the upside was that it resulted in two losing sides, the Matabeles and the whites, understanding one another better. After Independence was declared in 1980 there were other more personal losses too; one was the tragic death of a great young man, the other was building and losing a marriage. The three children we’d had kept me going with their needs, their enthusiasm and their courage to look life in the eye and say ‘we can do this.’ If our generation had helped to close the racial divide, despite initial misunderstanding and hostility, then the upcoming children benefitted immensely from that new-found harmony. The 1990’s were undoubtedly the best decade in the country’s short history. With a stable economy, the tiny land-locked ‘Breadbasket of Africa’ thrived. During this time I was part of a Christian ministry called Yadah which visited high schools giving a message in music and song, followed by those of us who gave inspiration and encouragement; answering questions and praying with hurting youngsters. It was a time blessed with the miraculous by God and many people’s lives were changed. The days of Yadah came to an end, and I turned my attention elsewhere. In 1998 a long-time friend, Jim Tucker and I were married and I moved out to his farm in the Tengwe Block south of Karoi, and just off the main road to Kariba. He was single and courageous enough to take on a ready-made family; the children just entering the teenage years gave us an interesting time. On a personal level, things were beginning to look up, but countrywide the situation became tense. In 2000 Robert Mugabe ordered a Referendum that would guarantee him lifelong power but the vast majority of people were not in agreement with it. Relatively few cast their votes, and the overwhelming majority voted ‘no’ so he began to retaliate against the individuals he felt were responsible: the white farmers. Jim and I enjoyed just two short years together before the government’s ‘Fast-Track Land Resettlement Programme’ came into existence with its horrific outworkings of hostility, mayhem, and violence that characterized its lawlessness. We lost our farm in 2002 in the government’s free-for-all ‘land grab’ and almost everything else except our family and moved to the U.K. to start a new life. From there we watched the Breadbasket Zimbabwe had become, deteriorate into an unbelievable basket-case. Somewhere along the line, dealing with the trauma and grief of loss and rebuilding our lives, some things sadly haven’t worked out as well as we would have hoped. We once again find ourselves coping with grief and loss as one child, now a young adult, has become estranged from the family and we are no longer in touch. Yet to all this, we have to add the very real joy that God gives us in times of trouble in different ways. One of them is the great sense of humour Zimbabweans of the Diaspora everywhere still have. It has been such an inspiration to me and I wanted to pass on what I have received with other people who have had hard knocks in life. Pain is inevitable, but misery is optional. Writing has always been a passion of mine, especially writing coupled with either inspiration or humour (or both). Another is simply being alive and well and the kid of a Great King!