Enjoy the Tour cause it’s off next Sunday but the Olympic Games are coming soon, Bev! No riders from Southern Africa this year in France. What’s the sourcing of your new favorite biscuit ? South Africa or proudly Zimbabwe made? Very sunny Harare, i.e. a nice winter down there! No cold time and burning firelogs in the townships? Enjoy your afternoon watching today’s leg while sipping your daily tea.  Cheers. Yves-Henri

Interview with Leofold Ndemera (Stone Sculptor) at the Chitungwiza Art Centre.

How did you get started as a stone sculptor?
I started stone sculpting some years ago when I dropped out of school after I faced challenges in paying school fees. So I moved to Chitungwiza where I lived with my uncle who was into stone sculpting at that time. I started by helping him in the workshop to do finishing touches on his pieces and later he taught me how to carve. It didn’t take me a long time to learn stone carving skills because I was passionate and I’m a fast learner.

Who has inspired you?
After both my parents died my grandfather raised me. So through the hardships I faced growing up I can say I inspired myself to be what I am today. I wanted to make a difference in my life so that my family will not live the same manner I was raised.

How would you describe your work environment?
Chitungwiza Art Center is a place, which was donated to artists by The National Arts Council in conjunction with United Nations Development Program. Artists here operate independently in terms of their sculpting techniques and their equipment, but pay a percentage of their turnover to the cooperative, which covers rent and other incidentals. Buyers of various types of art frequent the place making it a viable marketing place for art

What is the biggest challenge you have faced in your business?
In my line of trade I think the biggest challenge I faced so far is marketing my artwork. Customers are not coming in the manner they used to and when they do come they are not paying prices which make my business sustainable.

How do you market you work?
I use the Internet … Facebook to be precise, and I also use volunteering activities to publicize my work.

Do you have other means of earning a living?
I only survive on stone art.

What philanthropic activities are you involved in as a way to give back to the less fortunate?
I train young children, especially orphans, in the basic skills of stone sculpting. I also donate my artwork to institutions. In 2009 I worked on a project with Maunganidze Children’s’ Home based in Chitungwiza. Under the project I trained children in stone sculpting so that by the time they leave the orphanage they will be able to sustain themselves through stone art. I am also hoping that if everything goes according to plan I will be teaching stone sculpting at Mother of Peace Children’s Center in Mutoko.

Your biggest wish?
My biggest wish is to be able to assist as many children as I can in stone art.

What are your main concerns as a stone sculptor?
I am more concerned by the fact that art is mostly appreciated by people who come from abroad than the local people. So my wish is to have more local people having a better understanding of art and appreciating it as well.

What is your biggest fear?
I fear that one day I will wake up not feeling fine and not being able to fend for my family.

Some advice on the way to start your day in Harare: Go grab a warm muesli muffin and a coffee at Vali’s at Triton gym and rock yourself into a riotous mood with the help of the spin class playlist. Get the benefit of the music and the vibe without breaking a sweat, just a smile.

8 July
Returned to Harare from Hippo Pools tired, dusty and delighted with all our treasure (pods, wild fruit etc for Daniel’s nature table at school), to find that ZESA had blown the borehole over the weekend and we had not a drop of water in the house. Peachy.

11 July
Graham is reading a book called “Living with a Willy” in preparation for his “birds and bees” chat with Daniel (in about 6 years time! We might be a tad premature methinks – no pun intended). I’ve read it already. It was a gift and I was overcome with curiosity. The author has 101 euphemisms for the word “penis”, most of which make me blush.  We might just chicken out, and give him the book to read himself!

13 July
Adult diapers – you’d think they would come up with a more discreet, attractive name? – usually the preserve of the aged, would I think do well for people who have given birth to one or more children (naturally) and suffer from hay fever. Hay fever characterized by violent sneezing – in the early hours of the morning – when you are likely to have a full bladder anyway – and you are understandably reluctant to get out of bed, it being the middle of winter… I’m assuming here, having no personal experience to draw upon, just a guess …

16 July
I am reliably informed that the new, “in” term for kissing is “lunging”. Sounds quite aggressive. I would be inclined to protect my tonsils against the inevitable onslaught if such a proposition ever arose. Yes, we can agree that it is unlikely – my lunging days – inept slobbering – are over, for which I am quite grateful if a bit nostalgic …

HARI SREENIVASAN: All right, so if modern-day dictators aren’t using firing squads or kidnappings, what are they doing to stay in power?

WILLIAM J. DOBSON: Well, the modern dictator understands that if you are going to try and keep ahold of your people, you have to use new and different techniques, such as — take, for example, Putin. Putin chooses to send tax inspectors or health inspectors to close down or shutter a dissident group. In Venezuela, laws are written broadly and then used like a scalpel to — against any group that is deemed a threat. The Chinese Communist Party frequently refers to democracy and makes sure that all of its top leaders only serve two terms. There are all sorts of different ways in which regimes are finding how to move and navigate through forces that challenge their regimes that make them appear to be other than what they are.

More here and here

The weekend (already ambitious – it was just the one night), found my family camping at Hippo Pools.  There was some grumbling on the part of my husband … “mutter, mutter, who had the bright idea to go camping in the middle of winter? Rhubarb, rhubarnmnbkfferitsgbv@$!&*!! … But we were pretty much swept away with the kids’ excitement.

We all squished into grandpa’s car. Grandpa passed his license back in the day when licenses were licenses and they couldn’t be purchased for cash, and grandpa has his vehicle serviced every 5 minutes by a genius.  Anyway granny and grandpa happily in the front seat, mom, dad and 2 squirming kids in the back. Oh happy day.

Did I mention that grandpa does not make potty stops, not for man nor beast nor 5 year olds? The need to go to the loo made itself known around Bally Vaughan somewhere – not even half way to Hippo Pools. Luckily, after turning onto the dirt road, grandpa pulled over to study the map and we all dived out of the car with alacrity. The boys and the kids went, us older girls prudently waited for the ox cart and passengers to pass by. The spot was not chosen for its seclusion, it appeared to be just round the corner from the local bus stop and unfortunately we seemed to be a bit of a novelty, so the oxen were not motivated to put foot. Equally unfortunately, grandpa was. So into the car again, this time on a corrugated dirt road, bouncing happy child on my lap (read: bladder), face pressed to the window in the hopes of spotting an elephant, for another hour and a half, at least. I gave the passing buffalo (with baby) less attention than they deserved it must be said. Short shrift was made of the National Parks Officer who wanted to chat at the boom gate on arrival. I led the charge for the bathroom with undignified haste (and I may have elbowed one or two elderly folk out the way), only greeting the staff on my way back – the nature of my urgency was no secret.

The rest of the day was spectacular apart from the fact that the fish weren’t biting (“too cold” I told the kids sagely, like I’m the expert).

And then it was time to go to bed.

I was sharing a tent with my daughter, and the boys were right next door. Bad mistake, in the middle of the night every sound was amplified – I won’t elaborate. Before I could succumb to sleep however, I was viciously attacked by my sleeping bag and we did wrestle for some time before I beat it into submission by opening the zip.  All the way.  At which point everyone was awake, sleeping bags make that swishing noise when you move, it’s that plastic-like fabric on the outside, so loud … Then my feet were cold, as my makeshift mattress (garden chair cushion, I kid you not, which I was reluctant to pack I might add – my sum experience of camping as an adult consisting of the beaches of Mozambique …) didn’t quite make it that far. So the spare blanket went into keeping my toes off the freezing floor. Then pain, such pain, my hip bones drilling into the ground – it was impossible to sleep, so I tossed and turned and had short hopeful conversations with everyone I woke up … until Graham got up at 4:30.

I heard him stop and hold his breath, then the hippo moved off, he exhaled, and I asked him to put the kettle on (and he wondered whether I loved him at all).

When everyone was up, we all took turns fitting our feet into the hippo’s footprint left on the muddy bank.

‘Twas quite a beast.