Ha-ha-harare

My mom was telling me about an article she read last week on best and worst cities. I'm not sure where it was published. Vancouver was #1, Toronto #5 and Harare.... dead last. When she told me this my first reaction was to burst out laughing (I live in the worst city in the world?!?!) and then I started to reflect on this my adopted city.

If I were to be honest, I'd tell you I'm not a huge Harare fan. One of my favourite things about our Christmas holiday in Canada was walking the familiar streets of Toronto - feeling comfortable, at home and safe. Harare... well, it's just different. There's something about all the armed soldiers and riot police walking around, the power and water shortages, the sometimes-empty or sparse shops, the phones being tapped, the skinny yet fierce stray dogs, the sewage and garbage piling up (especially in the high density areas), the long queues for bread, sugar, cash or other rare items, the lack of entertainment (but this could be just because we don't have a car)... Honestly though, it can't be the WORST city in the world to live in! There's a great pizza place (maybe this doesn't count because 98% of the population couldn't afford a pizza?), the roads are still quite good (just try to avoid potholes), the weather is awesome (can a city take credit for this?) and the crime rate is amazingly low. I can't say Ha-ha-harare is fun capital of the world, but it's not that bad. I feel guilty for having written this - like I'm betraying my adopted land. We do love the people in Zim, but the city... well, we could take or leave it.

By the way, God gave me a miracle on Saturday. We were taking a combi partway home from town. In order to make maximum profit, the combi drivers stuff as many human bodies as possible into their vehicles. I was squished between the side and a big man, and then another man came to lean on top of me. My face was literally in his armpit. The combi was stuffy and I started feeling really faint. Then God gave me my miracle! The window next to me actually worked and I could open it a crack. Fresh air. Beautiful, wonderful fresh air - so much nicer than armpit residue! Thank you, Lord!