Return to Hot Springs.

Pat and I were delayed leaving for Chipinge as Pat decided a quick oil change on the vehicle was absolutely vital. He instructed our faithful Albert to drain the oil while he disappeared to do a few other things. Pat returned with 5 litres of oil and gaily informed Albert that he was now pouring oil. At this stage Albert was occupied with a bit of greasing and concentrating on other things so he didn't respond. As Pat was staring at his empty oil container in disbelief there was a sudden yell from Albert as the 5 litres of oil puddled around him. Poor Albert had forgotten to replace the oil plug. Pat called him some horrible names one in particular caught my interest as Albert is a male. I made the unfortunate mistake of giggling wildly which fuelled Pat's temper and while Albert scuttled off out of the line of fire I bore the brunt of it. The oil was finally replaced and we set off.

As we hit the open road Pat's good mood was soon restored. I love the drive from Mutare to Chipinge as it is the land of the baobabs my favourite tree and we see so many of them. I make Pat stop so that I can appreciate their size and grandeur they look as prehistoric as the rhinoceros and I am always filled with awe and wonder looking at them. We decided to have lunch at Hotsprings I had packed our cossies so we could wallow around in the pool. It was a blistering hot day and the heat of the pool was almost unbearable I had to keep plunging in the cold pool but Pat lay on his back basking like a hippo, each time he surfaced his face was redder than a beetroot. I watched a colony of weavers building their nests and we lay next to the pools studying the indigenous trees until lunch was served.

We ate in the shade of a gazebo overlooking a small dam covered with blue water lilies it was so tranquil. The other guests were all foreign other than an elderly man with his very young, black girlfriend he looked very familiar and Pat had to reprimand me for staring. Just before I put name to face they left rather rapidly to the sanctuary of their chalet much to my annoyance as I was unable to continue my observation.

We tucked into our lunch Pat ate with more gusto than I did, it was Spag Bog, I picked at a potato salad and enjoyed the view. Just as I was getting into the holiday spirit it was time to go and continue on to Chipinge. We passed the Nyanyadzi Irrigation scheme which this time had plots of anaemic looking maize. We passed the usual crowd on the road carrying their aid maize on their heads and you just shake your head in horror at the irony of it all. Soon we arrived in beautiful Chipinge passing idle warvets sitting outside their huts doing absolutely nothing but occupying once productive farm land it just makes me want to weep.

With business concluded we set off back home to the delightfully misty invigorating Bvumba and flopped into bed exhausted. In the early hours of the morning I was woken with a shout I caught a glimpse of Pat running crossed legged towards the passage, it struck me at the time it was rather an odd way to run. Thinking it must be intruders breaking and entering I grabbed the pepper spray and hid under the duvet waiting anxiously for the inevitable. After what seemed an eternity and being dangerously close to asphyxiation I cautiously reappeared from under the duvet. There had been no gun shots so I deemed it safe to creep bent double down the passage looking for Pat. 

I heard an agonizing groan emanating from the loo. My imagination ran wild, did the intruders have Pat tied up in there gun to his head. "Darling, I tapped lightly on the door, are you in there?" I whispered. There was a muffled reply followed by another agonizing groan. Pat speak to me I called in alarm. "I think I have Cholera was the muffled response." "Is that all I answered with visible relief and padded back to bed." Pat eventually reappeared, he was ashen, clutching his tummy and flopped on the bed. I'm dying he groaned. "Oh nonsense Pat," I looked at him unsympathetically, "It was that enormous lunch in the heat of the day and all that swimming," I added as an afterthought. It will pass I reassured him confidently and pulling the duvet up underneath my chin I promptly feel asleep. 

Mandy Retzlaff
Bvumba
Zimbabwe

PS. A big thank you to all of you who write in and say how much you enjoy my emails. Thank you! I enjoy writing them and its wonderful I have such an appreciative audience. They are only frivolous rubbish and I write them to bring a smile in these very dark days so if you enjoy them pass them on if you think it will make other people smile as well. To all the wonderful people sending Sanitary ware for Dignify a sister campaign thank you from the bottom of our hearts but please if you send a parcel please put your email address so we can thank you. I have received a parcel from Jo Hunt and do not have her email address if anyone knows of her please pass her email on she resides in the UK.