IGNORANCE IS BLISS
It is so quiet in Chimanimani I can hear the sound of the bees when they drop onto the carpet. Many folk worldwide fear for the demise of the bee population, but fear not, they should come and harvest some from us here in Chimanimani. The wall in the bedroom is dripping with succulent golden honey from the giant hive in the roof. I believe we might be on a Bee Flight Path, and they are more than welcome in our home, but probably only because we have no animals and no small children here!

I have my toes toasting in the sun and watch the Blue Mountains of Melsetter loom in the morning dawn. The proteas abound in May, which could possibly mean a sighting of the Gurneys Sugar Bird and way yonder the distance I can hear the sound of a Purple Crested Lourie, although I am sure the pundits have now changed his name.

Our garden is divine at this time of the year and the garden next door is a mass of flowering brilliant scarlet poinsettias, the sort one would pay a fortune for from a hot house in New York. The sunbirds are flitting busily from flower to flower in the brilliant purple Tibuchina tree and the ubiquitous Bulbuls are busy investigating the indigenous fig right outside the window.

The Azaleas are blooming in glorious profusion, crimson, purple and magenta and in the distance I can hear the sounds of a logging truck laboriously grinding its way up the valley from Charter or Tilbury.

We planted two Khaya Nyasica in the garden some years ago - the fabled "Big Tree" from the Chirinda Forest on the slopes of Mount Selinda and they tower majestically above the other trees, what stories will they have to tell to future generations about this magical yet sadly decimated part of Zimbabwe.

The harsh croak of the white-necked raven is the only sound that I can hear at all apart from the bees and all is at peace with the world.

Little did we know that our youngest daughter SheeHooMustSing - was hiding in a foxhole under fire from Sudanese MIG jets as we sat basking in the winter sun!!

Televisions are not evident in Chimanimani, news is important, but the business of making a daily living is paramount, and it was some time before we discovered our Youngest of journalistic persuasion, had actually been under attack! The internet works at little more than a snails pace too in Chimanimani despite the fact that there are three ugly towers on Pork Pie which is but a stone s throw from the house...

It took thirty heart-stopping minutes to track down and laboriously play the CNN video depicting the bombing, and attacks by gunships, and by that time Mother was ready for the Nervous Disorders Hospital!! Ah well, "all s well that ends well" and the three dedicated journalists have since recovered from their horrific ordeal and are safe and well.

Then the spate of guarded texts started arriving from concerned friends and relatives all over the world as the news spread like wildfire over Sky, CNN and BBC.

"How are you doing up there in the mountains? Have you heard from your Youngest daughter? " Very guarded and formal just in case we were not aware of her plight.

How on earth does one know anything that is happening in the world without the telly ? Those strange 'end of the world' films, where nearly all life on earth has been decimated but the telly is still running quietly in the background bringing one the latest news on the situation, always enchant me!!

Mental note - take the portable TV and Satellite dish with you whenever you travel into uncharted territory!!