Zimbabwe moves on

For most travellers, Zimbabwe has the same fascination as a car crash - it looks interesting from afar but there's enough about it that says, "Don't get too close." Tales of power cuts, food shortages, communication problems, and the more serious violations of human rights and restrictions on personal freedom, make the warm sunshine and wide open spaces seem avoidable rather than appealing.

A few years ago this was certainly the case. Locals recount tales of getting used to drinking black coffee or tea, not because they liked it, but because there simply wasn't any milk. Or being unable to drive anywhere at night, because without any streetlights and potholes lying like landmines in the dark, it was just too dangerous to do so.

Thankfully, Zimbabwe is not such a treacherous place anymore. Last night, the only thing not available in one of the local restaurants was oysters. "But we have the fresh Scottish salmon, which was flown in today," the manager informed us. Can't complain about that.

The improved Zimbabwe, although not perfect, is quickly becoming a wonderful midpoint between old world Colonial charm and new-age African development. In between the gables are the thatched roofs, alongside the enormous properties with front gardens the size of a cricket field, soapstone carvings can be bought and next to the traditional pub grub is the sadza (stiff maize meal porridge). Of course, it would be naïve of me to suggest that racial integration has come full circle here, but compared to South Africa, it is certainly more obvious.

One of the places it's become noticeable is the Red Lion bar, an institution in the main clubhouse of the Harare Sports Club. I was told that this bar would give me a glimpse of Rhodesia, with ruddy faced men of an older generation recounting what life in this country used to be like, in the days of Ian Smith. Happily, the old hangout has evolved and as my companion said, "The only black people inside are not just standing behind the bar."

We met a man who says he is a solider (he looked the part but did not say where he had been deployed) and helpfully pointed out a framed cheque which Cecil John Rhodes had made out to the Salisbury Cricket Club, which was what this venue was originally known as. There were also some sketchings of the ground, photographs and a few magazine tributes. Noteworthy articles they are all are, but the really striking things are taking place all around them.

The grand hotels that are found in the city centre and the suburb of Avenues - a tree-lined area with wide streets and medium sized apartment blocks - have a regal and colonial nature about them. Dark wood bars, imposing columns and majestic staircases. But in the rest of the town, where the regular people go to enjoy themselves are neighbourly eateries next to average night spots which stand out on quiet streets. It's Africa in a way that I have not experienced before, where the old order and the new can stand next to each other. Much to the surprise of some, it's a mixture of people who can be found inside these places, a sign that Zimbabwe is moving on, in the best way it knows how.