Everything that could go wrong did go wrong

No, I'm not talking about the rest of the Silent Predator tour - that was fantastic. We had a wonderful time in Cape Town and even got upgraded to the luxurious Table Bay hotel (the Raddisson, where we were supposed to stay, is also a lovely hotel, but it was undergoing rennovations that weren't completed by the time we arrived).

I've had some great feedback and no death threats from the lovely people who went on the tour, and the indefatigable Mr W from the Africa Safari Co is already hinting that we could be safari-ing again in 2010, so start saving.

As to the title of this post, things went a little less like clockwork after the tour, when Mrs Blog and I flew to Zimbabwe.

For a start, our friends who look after our trusty (if aged) Land Rover, Tonka, were finally kicked off their farm. They'd survived a couple of rounds of potential evictions in the past, and had thought they were relatively secure under a deal they'd done with a local seed company. Much of what they were growing at the time of their rushed removal was seed maize - ie a crop that would have supplied seed for the so-called "new" farmers who had taken over formerly white-owned farms in Zimbabwe.

In reality, the vast majority of farms seized under Comrade President's land grab are overgrown and ruined. Little wonder, then, that the seed company stood by and let a johnny-come-lately would-be war veteran seize our friend's farm.

I say "would be" because it's rare to meet a genuine veteran of Zimbabwé's liberation war who actually received a farm and contined to work it. Many farms have gone to relatives and cronies of Cde President (not a few to his wife), and party hacks.

The power sharing deal between ZANU-PF and the MDC is not working. There seems to be more of a power vacuum in Zimbabwe, as evidenced by this latest land grab. Although our friends have a legal right to be on their farm, the local police refused to intervene, even after the invader in question threatened farm workers' lives if they tried to support their employers.

Ai yi yi yi yi. Or eish, as we say here in South Africa (where I'm writing this from).

Anyway, it is no small measure of our friends' big-heartedness that they managed to clutch start old Tonka and evacutate him from the farm shed as well. There was no time, however, for them to get Tonka's list of ailments (hangovers from our last trip) seen to, and we were unable to get him back to tip-top health in time for Mrs Blog and I to attend the Hwange Game Census (an annual event we take part in, in Zimbabwe's biggest national park).

So, Mrs B and I made the decision to leave Tonka in Land Rover hospital in the capital, Harare, and bus it to Bulawayo, in western Zimbabwe.

When I think of buses in Africa I usually think of livestock riding on the roof and grim faced people inside the coach crossing themselves. Not so the Citylink Shuttle from the Rainbow Hotel in Harare (the hotel formerly known as the Sheraton). No sirree Robert... this bus had a hostie, and complimentary chicken burger and coke included in the price. (oops, I don't mean the hostie was included...)

We even had a TV. For most of the trip the TV played Dolly Parton songs, although the last half hour of the journey to Bulawayo featured a DVD of Michael Jackson live in Budapest. I don't know what was funnier - the late Mr Wacko grabbing at his chrome codpiece (this had the party of be-suited African bureaucrats in the bus rolling in the aisles), or the catatonic fans.

In Bulawayo we were able to hitch a ride with an occaisonal commentator on this blog, The Black Mustarfa. He and his lady travelling companion were in a rented South African 4x4 and also headed to the game count in Hwange.

Just when we thought something might have been coming right on the Zimbabwean leg of our journey it started to rain.

The idea with the game census is that the count is held over the night of the last full moon of the dry season. In theory, there is little natural water left in the national park, just before the rains come, and animals will congreate around the remaining water holes and be easy to see (by the light of the moon) and count.

The 2008-09 rainy season, however, was a doozy and there was water everywhere. That meant that rather than congregating, animals would be spread out all over the place. To make matters worse (for us counters, not for the animals), it rained steadily from the time the count kicked off, at midday, and the precipitation increased to a full-blown thunderstorm by about nine that evening. Clouds covered the full moon.

As a result, Mrs Blog and I, along with our first-time counting friends from South Africa, counted absolutely zero animals.

On the bright side, we did see a nice herd of about 500 buffalo the day before the count, and some elephants, giraffe and a nice pair of mating lions on the day after. So, there are still some animals left in Zimbabwe.

We hitched a lift back to Bulawayo with some other counters, and passed deserted, overgrown farm after deserted overgrown farm.

But the land was greening-up and new shoots were appearing almost before our eyes. Even if we hadn't seen many of them, and even though there is poaching on a serious scale in Zimbabwe, I knew that the animals were out there, somewhere.

Everyone on the count offered to help Mrs Blog and me, and I promised them all that Tonka would return, as soon as he was fixed.

The national parks staff were glad to see us again, and had done a good job keeping Robins Camp (where we were based) as spic and span as they could on a next-to-zero budget.

My friend the farmer, back in Harare, was putting on a brave face after losing his home and his livelihood. We went out to Lake Chivero, near the capital, and watched him immerse himself in his favourite sport - sailing.

All is not right in Zimbabwe - far from it - and just about everything that could go wrong did go wrong, but as Mrs Blog and I boarded a plane for South Africa I realised I couldn't wait to get back next year.