The landscape below us is very distinct as we fly over Zimbabwe. The rural land is divided into hundreds of small rectangular patches around a central areas of red dirt, spotted with a few round huts. The clouds too are very distinct, egions of tall billowing cumulus clouds march across the landscape.
Landing in Harare is always a bit of a worry. As I am on a UK passport, one never knows what could happen. Since multiple citizenship was outlawed a few years ago, my only right to abode is a dodgy stamp in my passport that I have had to get renewed every twelve months. Its been quite some time since mine expired, but the last time they didn’t seem to mind. So I shimmy over to the returning residents queue and hope for the best. They are not convinced. The large and colourful, full page, Australian permanent residence sticker does not help my arguement. I’m pointed over to the end of the visa queue, which has since grown. Sophie is almost through. It takes over an hour for them to process the ten or so people in line. Snap! I’m charged US$70 to return to the country I grew up in. On her Aussie passport Soph gets charged only US$45.
My family are very excited to see us, we hop in the car to drive home. It doesn’t seem too different since I was last here two years ago. There is a lot of litter, the road is very pot holed and many of the traffic lights are broken beyond repair. As we are stopped at some working traffic lights, a man crossing the road walks round the back of the car, which has our bags sitting in the open tray. Having been in SA for a couple of weeks we are very wary and watch the man like hawks. He notices us watching him so beadily and throws his hands up in the air laughing with a huge white toothed grin. We all laugh and smile as we drive off. Its moments like this that make it good to be back home.

The landscape below us is very distinct as we fly over Zimbabwe. The rural land is divided into hundreds of small rectangular patches around a central areas of red dirt, spotted with a few round huts. The clouds too are very distinct, egions of tall billowing cumulus clouds march across the landscape.

Landing in Harare is always a bit of a worry. As I am on a UK passport, one never knows what could happen. Since multiple citizenship was outlawed a few years ago, my only right to abode is a dodgy stamp in my passport that I have had to get renewed every twelve months. Its been quite some time since mine expired, but the last time they didn’t seem to mind. So I shimmy over to the returning residents queue and hope for the best. They are not convinced. The large and colourful, full page, Australian permanent residence sticker does not help my argument. I’m pointed over to the end of the visa queue, which has since grown. Sophie is almost through. It takes over an hour for them to process the ten or so people in line. Snap! I’m charged US$70 to return to the country I grew up in. On her Aussie passport Soph gets charged only US$45.

My family are very excited to see us, we hop in the car to drive home. It doesn’t seem too different since I was last here two years ago. There is a lot of litter, the road is very pot holed and many of the traffic lights are broken beyond repair. As we are stopped at some working traffic lights, a man crossing the road walks round the back of the car, which has our bags sitting in the open tray. Having been in SA for a couple of weeks we are very wary and watch the man like hawks. He notices us watching him so beadily and throws his hands up in the air laughing with a huge white toothed grin. We all laugh and smile as we drive off. Its moments like this that make it good to be back home.