Vumba: Cakes & Forgotten Gardens

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When Sarah heard I’d be going to Bvumba she said be sure to go to have the cake, best ever. As we rounded one of the many bends there it was, Tony’s Coffee Shop. Greg’s head whipped around, “Hey I read about that place”. It was lunchtime and the universe was pointing us in the direction of a toasted cheese. Make a U turn Florence we need sustenance.

As with most places we’ve been, we were the only patrons but within seconds the Bvumba equivalent of Manuel popped out from behind the curtains to welcome us. We sat and Manuel produced a meter long menu, plus a sheet of paper. The menu was painstakingly handwritten in ink, only teas and coffee, not a toasted cheese to be had. The Cake menu was written on the paper, with the pricing codes……..1st clue. Zimbabwe’s $ has collapsed, again, so nothing has a price anymore It’s a negotiation with each transaction. Manuel launched into the blurb on the cakes ending with Austrian Coffee cake, no teeth required. Who could resist.

Just as we thought things couldn’t get more bizarre in hobbled the resident cat, on three legs. Cue uncontrollable giggling. The cake arrived. It was out of this world, best ever. The price for one lemonade, one iced tea, one white chocolate cheese cake and one Austrian coffee cake, a mere ZAR 480.00. Cream is expensive and hard to come by in Zimbabwe! To complete the experience Tony himself appeared. He’d been to buy much needed new fabric for table cloths. He has also written a book titled, Heart on my sleeve. It’s a detailed account of his soul. While I skimmed through the juicy bits Greg wandered around taking a squizz at the accommodation. Turns out it was Tony’s bedroom on display. How bizarre.

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With the clock ticking and weather not cooperating the game of birds had moved up a notch. We’d connected with Buluwezi, the birding guru of Bvumba. He’s also the general manager of the establishment we were staying, Seldom Seen. He settled us into our camping spot, an empty cottage at the bottom of the garden. Camping Zimbo style, I like it. Buluwezi is absolutely wired to every sound, hard to keep up, a demanding teacher, frustrated by our slow response to his sightings.

That evening he asked if I could look at his finger and spare a pain tablet. He had a paronychia. Greg took one look,reminded of his own ingrown toenail retreated out of sight. I decided to give Buluwezi the good stuff, 2 tramadol. Once he’d left I regretted the dosage, a bit heavy handed for a 4 foot something 50kg body……too late. Next morning when I asked how he slept Buluwezi answered, “Like a dead log, thank you”.

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Any garden is a haven for birds so off we set to the Bvumba Botanical gardens. The structure is all there, azaleas were just finishing, cinerarias were in full bloom and the pond mesmerising. I abandoned the game of birds and surrendered to the beauty of a forgotten garden. Greg took off in search of 538 and I sat without a thought in my head at the pond.

After a while two young couples wandered down to the pond, obviously looking for photo opportunities. Couldn’t resist the opportunity to chat. Turns out the one couple were taking photos for their wedding invitation. Apparently how it works is you send out the wedding invite including a list of requirements. Then it’s up to the 400 odd guests to pledge. Kind of a bring and braai. Sounds good to me.

The men of the party were D-miners. I thought Diamond but no, deminers, land mines. They are employed (total crew 88) by a Norwegian company to detect, lift and deactivate landmines in the Chipinge area. Hard to comprehend this is still a thing 40 years after the war. They have one team of dogs, Apparently the dogs never miss a mine.

Lunch was at the famous Leopard rock hotel. Stately and full of colonial pomp and ceremony. The Afrikaans word is aspris (sp). At the grand entrance to the estate now stands the district pound for stray animals. Got to love payback.

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Took us a while to decipher the name of this place, Sisakop. Turns out it is the forgotten world of a Cecil John Rhodes reserve, Cecil Kop. The Massa trees had me and I got a stern ticking off from Buluwezi for not concentrating on the birds. Meanwhile Greg was ticking madly. Spotted creeper, tick. Cabanis bunting, tick, tick tick tick.

The heartbreaking part is that the forest looks a bit like it has mange. Magnificent tress are indiscriminately liberated from their mountain side homes to become ever needed fuel. A conundrum. How can it possibly be sustainable, but how do you deny a community that needs to cook, keep warn and earn some cash in a land were electricity is a novelty?

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The turn of phrase used by many Zimbabweans is delightful. When asked why they didn’t plant out the hundreds of carefully propagated plants in the botanical garden’s green house the reply, “Because these ones only need a blink of sunlight.”

Forgotten gardens all around.