After traveling for nearly 24 hours, watching four movies and almost finishing a badly written book on the Hells Angels motorcycle club, I am enjoying a Zambezi beer in front of my room at York Lodge in Highlands, Harare.
During past visits, I’ve flown from the United States through either Johannesburg or London. Due to the flight connections, however, this meant either spending the night in Johannesburg or an entire day in London.
This year, I tried something different, flying through Addis Ababa instead. It’s a long sit, but you don’t waste an entire day waiting.
My joints are still aching from too many hours in economy class (we wouldn’t dare waste your advertising dollars on frivolous upgrades), but the pleasant weather and agreeable surroundings make it well worth the ride.
The temperature is a mild 20 degrees Celsius and I am writing in the shade of an acacia tree listening to the songs of birds I cannot identify.
It’s from this bubble of comfort that I will be reporting on the collapse—and possible rebirth—of the Zimbabwean tobacco industry.