Biked in the middle of elephants in a splendid country devastated by a tsunami called "Mugabe"

No, Zimbabwe was not on my road, like most of the other destinations in fact. But this is traveling, we follow our way, we listen to our heart and our intuitions and I think that once more, listening is a success for me: I am gonna love this country!
Everyone flees Zimbabwe, because this country is known to be a bad racist country which took by force the farms of the white rich farmers and who expelled all of
 them, one by one. The situation is much more delicate and especially much more complicated. It was once a tsunami called Robert Mugabe. He was the chief of the rebels who overthrew the power governed by the white people 20 years ago. Since then he is the president of the country. At each vote, he is re-elected "democratically" thanks to its veterans who torture, rape and sometimes kill the recalcitrant people in the areas where they do not vote for him. He blocks the food at the villages where they do not want to vote for him and people die of hunger. He took by force the farms of the white people and redistributed them to the poor, yes, but he especially redistributed them to his friends or the people it was indebted to. Moreover, nobody can improvise himself as a farmer, especially not in enormous farms which are often ten time larger than the largest European farms. Therefore, what was the granary of Africa, the largest agricultural producer and the richest country of Africa, is nothing any more but a ship sinking.Then our dear Mugabe Tsunami had the marvellous idea to print money each time that he needed some… The consequence was thatThe Zim dollars lost its value (especially to refund the payments of international debts)… An inflation of 600 % in 2005… and during the month I’m crossing the country, inflation is inscreasing by 100 %. The

Coke I paid when I arrived in this country cost me 25' 000 Zim dollars and I am paying it 40'000 when I am leaving the country.
In short, the Southeast Asia had its tsunami, Zimbabwe also, but the life is going on, then let’s start again by the beginning, my beginning.
When I am arriving at the border, small cultural shock: welcome back in Africa! People have the skin much blacker again, English is used and no more Portuguese. I am feeling happy because at first sight people seem to be very nice and the country beautiful and clean. I am arriving at Mutare, which is the third city of the country, close to superb mountains. Almost no traffic  on the roads! There is no gas anymore or almost in Zimbabwe. I am seeing my first gas station: closed, no gas! I am finding one of them later in Harare which had some. Around fifty cars are queuing up on more than 200 meters in front of the station and even on the road! I do not have any more money, but it is magic, I have my credit card Mastercard. I am going to the bank and am asking for the equivalent of 300 USD to be able to travel through the country. And, surprise, I am receiving..... 32 million Zimbabwean dollars, a weight of at least 2 kilos… and in 5 large bundles of 1000 notes! I am asking them if they are making fun of me and when I understand that it’s not the case, I am asking for a box or a plastic bag! They do not have any and I am leaving the bank with the arms full of money. I am going to the drugstore around the corner where I ask a plastic bag to hide my loot. Welcome in Zimbabwe, kingdom of the Mugabe tsunami!
On the way for Harare, the capital, I am going down again the mountains and the fresh air of Mutare in the middle of old farms. The ground is not or badly farmed and is often back in the wild state. People is indeed very nice with me, nobody isn’t asking me for some money, it is almost shocking after all the African countries where people greeted me by "Hello, give me money". I am stopping on the road-side. There is an appointment of truck-drivers, I can buy fresh meat and am grilling it in the open air with the truck-drivers. I am eating and a man is offering me a beer (although my bike day is not finished, I cannot refuse...). I am in a country where never in Africa I felt so much safe, surrounded by nice and generous people, ready to help me and for once, not for money. I am also surprised to see so few people on the roads. During 3 days, apart from the cities and villages, I am crossing a few peasants who sell their fruits and vegetables on the roadside. Otherwise I am alone with my bike, the road guides me through the fields and the horizon oxygenates my heart.
I am arriving at Harare, 2 minutes before a downpour, one more, the rain season is getting gradually stronger (and it is only the beginning). I am arriving in a guest house where we feel like at home. In the living room, everyone is in front of the television because of the Africa’s cup of football (for the story, Egypt will win it. Like the past cups, the organizing country, Egypt this year, wins, which takes off a bit of suspense but finally the most important thing is to take part...). I am meeting Mario, a German biker who is making the world tour on bike and who is stuck in Harare because of a big puncture.... As he is saying so well, the big punctures during a trip, those that last the longest and which forces you to remain a long time in a place... they are the women. With him, we are visiting half of the clubs of Harare and we are waiting for the night to come to go out. At the end, each one will have a big puncture, mine is called Marjorie, his, Sandra. While I am writing this text in Windhoek, Mario is still in Harare. I spent unforgettable moments with him, being able to share our bikers common destiny, making over the world in our rooms. We spoke about our concerns, problems, angers or especially about the moments of joy that we live on our bikes. I hope we will meet again, but I am sure, that will happen. The roads of the world are not so large finally...