African time is real, and Zimbabwe is no exception! Before the race, I though this elusive time I heard about was an exaggeration. Sure, some cultures are more laid back, but generally speaking, I didn’t think showing up hours after the given estimated time of arrival was an actual thing.
I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Take this past Sunday as an example. It was a normal Sunday as most are, and nothing strange was in the air; the sun was shining, and the cotton ball clouds were disbursed over the clear sky blue. I ate breakfast and waited for my host to pick me up at 9:30. Church started at 10! Guess who was waiting outside when I went downstairs. Nobody. Not a single car was in the center’s parking lot.
9:35….9:45…9:55
After almost half an hour, I heard the car horn, and headed out the door in my Sunday best. My team and I arrived to car lined the streets, and a full sanctuary. Funny enough, we were not the last people to arrive. Nobody was phased or stressed. Life went on as I joined in worship for the last few songs. The church was pretty westernized, so the service was only an hour and a half long. After it was over, everyone stood around, drank tea and chatted.
12:30
After the mingling dwindled down to a select few, Hannah, Elise, and I headed into town. We had a plan. I needed my hair fixed; we wanted a hot meal and had to buy some supplies for the week. A woman, Emalda, who works at the center, recommended the first hair salon we walked into. The hair stylist took one look at my hair and gasped before running down the street to find someone who knew how to crochet dreadlocks. A little while later, a man (I’ll call him Tim) walked in, looked at my hair, and took us to his shop a few blocks down the road. The three of us weren’t sure what was going on, but before I knew it I was sitting in a new chair. Tim told me I had two hours of work ahead of me.
Two hours. That’s perfect!
1:00
Shortly after I sat in the chair, Hannah and Elise left to grab lunch. Tim Started on my hair making comments every few minutes about how bad the last person who worked on it did. Maybe half an hour into the experience, a woman, we’ll call her Dora, walked into the salon. She sat down and started talking to Tim in Ndebele. I had no idea what they were saying. After a while, she turns in her chair and stares at the mirror in front of her. I asked her what she what up to, and she responded by telling me I stole her appointment! I offered to give it back to her but she told me it would be no use because my hair already looked to bad and I had nowhere to go. Ouch. We talked for a little while longer, I heard her story and she left right around the time my stomach growl became too much. Tim continued to grumble about my hair.
3:00
My lunch finally arrived! A bacon cheeseburger and possibly the world’s worst cappuccino! I devoured the burger and gave the coffee to Hannah all while Tim continued to work on my hair. He was sweating profusely! Eventually he asked if he could get some air outside. I said that was fine, but when we didn’t follow him out back, he came looking for us. Apparently, we were supposed to follow him. Before I knew it, I was getting my hair done in a back alley. With every tug of hair and wince in my face, we all joked around. He sometimes would take a break to work on another client’s hair or take a picture. A couple of people came out back to facetime and take selfies with me.
5:00
Eventually we went back inside because the power went out, and the outside generator was too loud. When we walked back in, Dora was still there waiting to get her hair done. Of course, she made a comment about how long my hair was taking. Finally, it finished half an hour after going back inside. We went around the corner to grab product for my hair before getting groceries.
5:45
There was plenty of time to get to the store and back to the center before dark. After grabbing my stuff, we called a recommended taxi, and he told us he’d be there in 20 minutes.
6:00 …6:15…6:25
It wasn’t a surprise that after 20 minutes, our taxi man was nowhere in sight. We called again, and he ensured us only 15 minutes more. No problem. That still gave us plenty of time to get back before dark. Between this call and the next one, an intoxicated man stopped by us and tried to share the gospel. It was a little unnerving, and after a few minutes, we walked away. He tried to follow us, but don’t worry. People on the street quickly distracted him.
6:30
We called the taxi again and found out he ran out of fuel. Ok. No big deal. We all have our bad days, and this is Zimbabwe after all. We waited. At this point, we were ready to be on the move. It’s also when we notice the undressed mannequins in carts being dragged down the road. Interesting. I stopped counting after five or six.
7:00
It began to get dark outside, so we called the taxi again. He promised He’d be here before its dark. Hannah hung up the phone, and we watched pink sunset fade into night. The mannequins were still being pulled down the road.
7:30
Guess who had yet to show up. Between pink sunset and navy night, we almost witnessed an all-out brawl. I didn’t know what exactly was happening. Sandwiched between Ndebele yelling and belt holding, I couldn’t help but stare. I was over it. When Hannah tried to contact the taxi driver, his number had been disconnected. Out of desperation, we tried to call our host, but there was no answer. Finally, our teammate Meagan answered her phone. She had gone back to the center after church, and was waiting for us to get home. She found Emalda and called us a ride. Less than five minutes later, we were sitting inside a taxi.
Note: the mannequins are still there.
It would be wrong to assume the adventure was over because it indeed was not. Before going more than a block down the road, the taxi driver (Shephard) stopped, rolled down his window, and began to yell across the street to have a conversation. A few more blocks further down the road, he got out of his car and talked to another guy about switching vehicles. Do not fear, though! Emalda called and saved the day…err night!. She told him he needed to hurry up and get us home. So, Shephard got back in the car and went a few more block down the road before stopping to get gas. He did not turn the car off before doing so. That’s new, but hey! The car did not explode or catch on fire. The evening was almost over when we hit a bird right before turning into the center.
8:00
Finally, we stepped on familiar territory, safe and hungry. We walked into the kitchen and found our saved dinner. Chicken and rice with sweet potatoes—my favorite!
I’m not sure if my mind fully comprehends what exactly happened on Sunday, but it was real. It was real fun, real annoying, and real memorable. I wouldn’t want to experience it all the time, but it is days like Sunday that make memories, and I love them.
