January this year my wife, Hildegunn, planed a visit to Buhera, a region in rural Zimbabwe. She runs the company Savannen, a Scandinavian interior company, and Buhera is where the beautiful Buhera baskets are made. The baskets are made of braided roots, an old craft passed down in generations. The visit to Buhera is part of our road-trip in Zimbabwe, were we visited places like Binga, Hwange, Victoria Falls and Bulawayo. And me? I tag along as a driver and photographer.
Traveling in Zimbabwe calls for planning, a shortage of fuel and cash in the country, makes it crucial to know where the next fuel stop may be. An extra can of fuel is always placed in the trunk of the car. We spend the evening planning for the trip to Buhera on the patio at a lovely Airbnb in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe’s second largest city.
Hildegunn is planing the trip to Buhera in detail and I try to act all casual after running back from the self timed camera.
The trip from Bulawayo to Buhera is supposed to take four to five hours. As far as we can see from the map, the last hour will be on dirt roads with unpredictable standards. And as this is the rain season, although it has been dry as summer so far, the weather could shift in minutes. Turning the roads into rivers. To be on the safe side we decide to leave early next morning, leaving before sunset.
We get up early as planned, the power in Bulawayo is shut down and the headlight come in handy to find the way to the bathroom across the courtyard. Before light brakes, we are in the car and on our way to Buhera. The rental car we ordered, a 4x4 Landcruiser, turned out to be Honda shuttle, a city family car. Not the best car for road tripping in Africa. But that is all forgotten as we hit the main road. Nothing beats the feeling of freshly brewed coffee, homemade breakfast in a paper bag, the greatest travel companion, and the endless African roads.
It turns out that only a couple of hours is spent on tarmac and soon we are off into the bush on dusty roads.
The dirt road take us through an amazing landscape. And now and again we pass a village.
The landscape is constantly changing, shifting from savannah to more rockier hills. In some areas the rocks are stacked in a manlike manner, except the rocks are gigantic and not possible for any human to stack. I am still trying to find out how the stacks is made. Which nature force has balanced this gigantic stone blocks on top of each other?
An example of the stacking stones.
As we have been on the road for seven hours straight, I start to wonder if we have driven too far. Hildegunn is constantly texting on WhatsApp with Charlie, our guide on this trip that never made it to Buhera as he is stuck in an endless queue at the South-African border. Hildegunn tells me that in the next village there is supposed to be a guy waiting for us and show us to the home of the grandmother. The grandmother and her family that is making the beautiful baskets. I feel a slight irritation as I think to myself, how are we going to find this guy, we do not know were to meet him. But I say nothing.
Well there were absolutely no reason for me to get irritated. Entering the next village, which consisted of a grocery shop without much groceries, a bar and a hardware store, there is only one man standing by the roadside. He waves at us as he sees the car. As I bring the car to a halt, he jumps in the backseat, a short presentation than we hit the road again, or not!
The village, which consisted of a grocery shop without much groceries, a bar and a hardware store.
Our new guide which name also is Charlie, tells me to make ha right turn. I hesitate as there is only one road, and that road is heading straight ahead. But Charlie insist that I should head straight into the bush, even thou there is not a single tire mark in the dry mud. So, I make a right turn. It turns out this is the start of a 20 minutes' drive through fields of dried out crops and riverbeds.
On our imaginary road we passes a herd of cows.
But finally, after close to eight hours strait driving, we arrive. And what a welcoming, the grandmother, all dressed up for the occasion, throws her selves in the arms of Hildegunn. It all happens so fast and spontaneous. I cannot help myself, I burst out in tears. Even now, writing this, half a year later, I cannot hold back the tears. It was such an emotional experience and a clear proof of how important her business relation with Savannen.no is to her and her family.
Witnessing this moment is one of my lifes greatest experiences.
(The grandmother, Hildegunn and Charlie the off-road guide.)
The lovely grandmother and her little family start gathering the baskets and tells us the story of how she learned the craft. As she speaks Shona, the language of the Hera ethnic group, most of the communication is nonverbal. But hand gestures, smiles and sounds makes it an easy to understand and captivating story.
When you buy a Buhera basket at Savannen you become part of Savannens Fairtrade and can rest assured that the producer is pay rightly and that the money goes directly to the grandmother and other producers in Buhera. This visit alone supplied the grandmother and her family with more than half a year's income.
The grandmother takes a keen interest in how Savannen.no customers are using the baskets as interior details. She really enjoys the pictures Hildegunn shows her on Instagram @savannen_no. I can sense that she is proud to see here craft travel across the world to end up as an artwork in someone's home.
The grandmother takes a keen interest in how Savannen.no customers are using the baskets as interior details.
Inspecting the beautiful hand craft.
Counting and thinking about how to fit all the baskets in a small Honda….
We manage to fit most of the baskets in and on the car. The people of Zimbabwe really know how to pack a car. and soon we are ready to head back to Bulawayo. Dark is only hours away, and we were hoping to be back on tarmac before the sun sets. The traffic is deadly at night, as lorries and other heavy machinery plows through the night with a parking light or a left turn signal as only light source.
This story ends as we finally reach the main road, dark has arrived and I do my best to keep up with the traffic, speeding to 110 km/h trying to keep out of reach for the oncoming traffic. Thats when I hit a big hole in the road. It feels like the wheel is ripped off the car. I stop roadside. Luckily only a puncture. Well, it is only one thing to do. Empty the car of all the baskets to get to the spare wheel, avoid getting hit by a passing truck or eaten by lions even bitt by a snake and get back on the road ASAP. This poor quality video kind of sums it up. I just love our African adventures!