We departed from Johannesburg, South Africa on November 23rd after spending three days in nearby Pretoria acquiring camping gear, recovering from stomach bugs ingested on Zanzibar, and discovering that monkey burgers are not made from real monkeys and monkey gland sauce is not the by product of monkey sex.

We flew into Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe arriving in the stifling midday heat of 42* C (108* F). The current state of Zimbabwe is a sad story indeed. Once the model of African nations to emerge from colonial rule, the country is imploding under the leadership of Robert Mugabe, who has ruled the country since independence from Britain in 1980. Earlier this year UN election observers left the country declaring the presidential election in this parliamentary democracy to be a complete sham. The European Union suspended aid to Zimbabwe as a result of the newly reelected government's policy to seize white owned commercial farms for redistribution to landless blacks. On top of that, US food aid shipments were refused by Mugabe for fear of introducing genetically altered grains into the agricultural cycle. With widespread petrol and food shortages driven by the lack of foreign currency (aid dollars), Mugabe has brought this country to it's knees and now half of the people of this nation of 14 million souls are at risk of starvation. As if having over a third of the population infected with AIDS wasn't enough! We saw the people lined up for a single loaf of bread for each family and cars lined up awaiting the delivery of petrol. Since our visit to Zimbabwe, Mugabe has had several opportunities to reverse his nation's fortune but failed to do so for whatever reason. Our personal experience with the currency was a sad commentary on the impending collapse of the country's infrastructure.

After settling into our hotel room and finding an unconscious refuge from the stifling heat in the form of a late afternoon nap, we headed down to the pool and ordered what appeared to be safest on the menu: two ham and cheese sandwiches and two cokes. I fantasized of our George Foreman grill as I choked down the charred soggy slices of bread concealing three (maybe four) small chunks of something that resembled more lard than ham swimming in a sauce that more resembled coagulated mayonnaise than cheese. I reminded myself of the sad conditions in this country and felt an intense wave of shame for being critical of a meal that most Zimbabweans could not afford.
Nevertheless, the bill came to 2,450 Zim dollars for the sandwiches. The cokes were on a separate bar tab that had not yet been closed. I asked the pool waitress if she would accept US$. "Yes," she replied tentatively in surprisingly articulate English, the official language of Zimbabwe.

"Great, how much is 2,450 in US dollars?" I asked. She stared at me in bewildered silence. I raised my eyebrows inviting a response. Silence. "Okay, let's try this again." I thought to myself, "What is the exchange rate?", I said.

"The official rate is 55 Zim dollars to 1."

My attention retreated to that little calculator buried somewhere in my grey matter as numbers and question marks ricocheted around in my head. 55 to 1. Something is not right here. 55 to 1? Am I understanding this correctly, I thought. Did Lisa and I just fork out US$45 for the privilege of choking down the worst ham and cheese sandwiches we'd ever seen served up with an extra helping of shame for ..... My mind began to smoke. So I said it outloud before the steam blew out my eardrums, "You want me to pay 45 US dollars for those two ham sandwiches?"

She looked around nervously as I raised my voice in obvious anger for such flagrant robbery. No response. Just eyes darting around the pool area. She came closer and said in a soft voice, "What rate would you like?"

"What kind of question is that?" I thought to myself. Curious as to where this conversation was leading, I threw out a number, realizing what a ridiculous world it would be to negotiate an exchange rate everytime one wanted to purchase something, "I was thinking in the hundreds, like six or eight hundred." I bit my lip and held my breath in my best poker face. She looked around again and asked me to go to my room and wait and someone would come talk to me.

Ten minutes later I am sitting in my unnamed hotel room (to protect the guilty) trading US dollars on the black market with a polite soft spoken unnamed man at a rate of 800 to 1. So now those US $45 sad excuses for ham sandwiches were seeming a little more reasonably priced at three dollars and change. Reasonable, but not a good deal by any means. A sense of pride for my shrewd negotiating skills warmed my heart as I folded my two inch tall stack of 500 Zim dollar bank notes. An hour later, still beaming with pride for my negotiating skills, I whispered of my victory to an Aussie backpacking couple who had been in Zimbabwe for several days. The mate looked at me sideways and informed me that the going rate was 1400 to 1. Doh!!!

Later that night, having eventually found the best rate in town we forked over the equivalent of a whopping US$8 for a dinner of a T-bone steak, chicken curry over rice, 3 gin and tonics, a soda and two liters of bottled water to go. My shame was replaced by a profound sense of confusion which remained with me until we crossed over the Botswana border three days later. Our fellow travelers traded stories of calling the home for pennies and shipping large wood carvings home to their respective countries for just a few dollars.

It's a crazy world! And Zimbabwe is a country in freefall. I don't know much about how monetary systems function but as we arrived in South Africa three weeks later there were news reports of the government cracking down hard on black market currency trading including threats to close all Bureau de Change offices and forcing all currency conversions into government controlled banks. The economy experiences 1% inflation per day and now stands at 143% inflation for the year and the government is desperate to restrict the flow of foreign currency out of Zimbabwe.

This drama is having a significant impact on South Africa and many people are watching closely Mugabe's radical solution to land redistribution. One could compare what is happening in Zimbabwe to an American Indian rising to power in the United States and seizing land to give back to the native peoples of North America with little regard for the adverse consequence for the economy. A nobel cause but incredibly destructive to the people for whom it was intended to benefit.

Anton, our guide told us this one: How do you make a good Zimbabwean wine? Take away his farm.

Zimbabwe left us with a sense of dissonance. On one hand we were eating like kings for very little money in a country faced with catastrophic starvation in the coming months and on the other hand we were pleased with ourselves for making our small contribution to the local economy. It is sad that many travel advisors advise against supporting tourism under a malevolent government or ruler. Yet it is the people who base their livelihood (maybe the only livelihood available) on tourism We felt warm about spending our money at markets and with street vendors but forked over the notes with shame to some of the commercial operations which we instinctively knew would, in no way, benefit the locals. We believe that is better to travel and find ways to be a responsible tourist, spending money in ways that benefit locals, than to avoid places altogether.