Down the Lane in Chitungwiza
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Contact host. Show all 31 amenities. Entire place. Sleeping arrangements.
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Great location on the water in Madeira Park. Well maintained cabin with beautiful art and a fully equipped kitchen.
We would happily stay there again. An amazing place and location!
We loved watching the tides and spent considerable time hanging out on the amazing porch. Very secluded, a perfect getaway! The cabin was the perfect place to unwind.
It was very clean well kept, had everything we needed. The two person tub was amazing. We are already planning our next stay at the cabin.
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We enjoyed our stay very much and the cabin comfortably accommodated the four of us. Would not hesitate to go back. The location is just beautiful. Listing is exactly as described. After our stay we drove back to Vancouver to go on our cruise. The Moon Dance cabin was incredible! My wife and I wanted a quiet mountain getaway for our honeymoon and I couldn't find any place better than Moon Dance. The cabin was perfectly furnished and comfortable, and outside everything was quiet as can be.
Beautiful scenery in the… Read more. We look forward to seeing you again whenever that may be - best wishes to you! Amazing private getaway overlooking the bay! Had a lovely 2 night stay here amongst the trees. We wish that we could have stayed longer. Great spot to relax and leave the world behind. I had drifted back from sleepy to fully awake.
Inside the bus it was warm though outside it was cold and chilly. We were fast approaching midwinter. Everybody in the bus woke up. It started with those who were in the front seats saying "oh, oh, oh! Those graders were guarded by an entourage of police and army vehicles. Another person joked, "Mugabe is travelling in graders these days. But everyone in this bus knew that wherever that herd of vehicles were headed had something to do with Mugabe - and something devastating at that. Anything to do with Mugabe was always like that.
The country, the mismanagement of the economy, the elections, the governance of the country, all that had something to do with Mugabe.
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I had argued a couple of days before with my workmate about all these things. I asked him the question I always liked to ask people about Mugabe, especially those I knew supported the old man. It's the whites' and the MDC who have been messing things here. He always disagreed with me on that. He was a Central Intelligence Organisation agent, based in the president's office.
The other workers at the company always tried to provoke, but many were afraid of him. I enjoyed arguing with him though I knew he never took me seriously. He simply thought I liked to disagree with him and seemed to enjoy the arguments too. Despite our differences, we were close colleagues. We had covered for each other several times against the managers.
I would do most of his work when he played truant. The managers were afraid of him. Nobody would willingly try to piss him off but I wasn't scared of him so I fought him head on. Hey, they never stole an election. It's Mugabe who did that. They never stole money, the nation's coffers for their personal use. It's Mugabe and his bunch of kleptomaniac coterie who did that, not the whites, not the MDC, no.
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He would become very belligerent. That bunch of crooks you talked about deserves a piece of this country's wealth, young man. We didn't go to war so that the likes of you young people, young kids at that, and the MDC and the whites could take our hard won independence and country from us. You are going to see what we are going to unleash, especially on the likes of you; young fools who think they know so much about life.
He'd often forewarned us, but now it was quite obvious that he didn't want to. I tried to probe him a bit more. You just wait and see, young man. When the entourage of police, soldiers and graders passed our bus, people started to question each other. Had there been a strike in Chitungwiza that morning? Why were the police and army with their armoured vehicles going to Chitungwiza? I didn't know. Nobody in this bus knew anything. When I arrived at my workplace I heard the same story coming from workmates from different high density townships of Harare.
The feeling inside me was unshiftable; it gave off fractures of anguish, misplacement and a scored emptiness. I went to check with Mr. Marombe what those trucks had been about. He was in such a good mood that day. He laughed sardonically and only replied that he had warned me a couple of days ago. He laughed and said that I had to wait and find out. He was having fun at my expense!
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I didn't understand but I said, "I see. Those graders, with army and police protection, were destroying all the illegal structures in those townships. These structures were occupied by the poorest of the cities' people. News came through of the destruction of people's Boy's Skies the name given to those illegal shacks or brick dwellings , illegal truck shops and illegal buildings mostly in the high density areas.
That afternoon in the news, on the radios, the government spoke of this operation and named it Operation Murambatsvina Operation Clean-up. Cleaning up what? The city's poor. Everyone knew why the operation was ongoing: township people had voted against the president in the previous elections such that most of the cities in the country were now under the MDC rule and control. The operation was Mugabe's plan to displace this huge swell of support for Tsvangirai and the MDC and to punish them for rejecting him. My boss told me that he couldn't give me the time off because the opreation affected everyone at the company and they couldn't shut down completely.
There was nothing I could do. I couldn't leave without his permission: I didn't want to lose my job as well. My wife phoned me early in the afternoon. I couldn't decipher what she was saying through her crying, mumbling and groaning. There was also a huge swell of noise from people in the background - and the noise of the graders boring into our home.
I knew what that meant. I told her to take care of the kids and try not to worry and that I would be home by nightfall. I had to cut the call. I couldn't take anymore of her crying. Her moans were urgent in their pain, the words half formed as if stuck in her throat. We worked for the whole of that day like numbed robots.
Everyone was silent and brooding and everyone felt oppressed. Some cried; some hoped that their homes had been spared. A dark shadow descended upon everyone. On the journey home I got a whiff of what to expect in Chitungwiza when I saw the informal industrial settlement of Mvurachena floored.
Some people huddled besides the road. People on the bus journey could only groan with pain. Everyone was so scared of what they would see once we arrived in Chitungwiza. Many of our homes were in Zengeza 1 Township on the fringes of Chitungwiza.
The area you would first touch as you enter Chitungwiza from Harare. My body turned into granite when I first had a glimpse of our township. The place had been razed. Just a few houses were still standing. All the others had been decimated - and many of these were in fact legal structures! Dust and smoke swirled and hung in the skies.
People were crying. Women, the eldery, some youth and children wailed as if at a funeral lamentation. Calling out to the heavens in the long notes, trying to see if their gestures would elicit an answer. Their belongings were piled on the streets and some were huddled together for warmth.
They had nowhere to go now, nowhere to hide from the winter's cold. Broken concrete rubble and bricks littered the landscape. All these thousands of people were now along the streets and on the main roads: homeless. Some were looking for transport that could take them to their rural homes, some to relatives in some other parts of the city or in Harare.
We all needed shelter. I had nowhere to go other than our rural home which was too far away and expensive to get to. It was money I didn't have. Some streets had simply vanished leaving fields of rubble. The music and laughter had gone too. Ghostly eddies of dust and smoke danced around me, stinking my eyes. I sat down near the bus stop where I had disembarked and wept. Then I proceeded to our 'street' to find my family. I found my wife in the street right across the place we used to call our home which was now debris.