Bulawayo ‘Bendover Bazaar’ – now empty and silent

1 May 2020

It’s May Day all over the world. “The virus” is too. We are in “lockdown” along with almost all countries globally.

Zimbabwe has only 34 cases of Corona Virus recorded to date since the pandemic  went ‘viral’ early this year…. excuse the pun. This number includes 4 deaths.

Compared to the stats world-wide (although we have had very little testing done), we have had relatively few positive cases of Corona Virus patients. We are fully aware that this can change, but the real tragedy here is the further collapse of a very messed up economy and the suffering of the poor, who live a hand-to-mouth existence and rely on the informal markets, now closed.

I wrote this blog a couple of years ago. How we miss our “Bendover Bazaar!” I feel desperate for the people who were relying on this market for their income. What will become of them?   Lets hope for their sakes it can resume again and we can enjoy some more shopping under the glorious Jacaranda trees of Bulawayo.

I reminisce ….

One of my favourite ways of starting a weekend is by heading to the now famous “Bendover Bazaar”, here in beautiful Bulawayo.  The name we have given this market is pretty weird, but yes, that’s what we call it.

We drive to Bulawayo from the farm, half an hour’s drive up the Victoria Falls Road.  As we arrive in the outskirts, we pass ladies selling “airtime”, surrounded by the archetypal pyramids of tomatoes, boiled sweets and chewing gum, displayed neatly on upturned crates.  Smoke rises above the men, fanning fires made in small tin tubs with old bits of cardboard. They are cooking ‘mealies’ for hungry passers by.

It’s still early, but traffic is building as we drive up 8th Avenue and park in the shade of a huge Jacaranda.  Pedius, our trusty “car watcher” earnestly tells us that he will watch our car nicely, and hopes for a bit of change after our shopping extravaganza.

It all seems overwhelming at first.  A couple of hundred metres of road have been cordoned off for the weekend, in order for vendors to sell thousands of items of clothing (some second hand, some new but never worn), shipped in from all over the world in huge bales to Mozambique, and then transported by truck to Zimbabwean cities.

With rucksacks on our backs, and change in our pockets – bright green two dollar bond notes, and a few scruffy one US dollar bills, dirty and torn but thankfully still accepted, we walk up and scan the piles.  Focus.

Let’s start at that pile with the pure cotton prints from India, or the one with “skinny jeans” with trendy labels.  Perhaps the pile with farm shorts and shirts with the “must have” two pockets.  There is something for everyone.

It’s the end of summer and a wonderful rainy season.  Business has been difficult for these people due to the rain, but today it’s perfect.  We see our large lady friend, who reminds me of a Queen Bee in a hive, the matriach of Bendover we think.  Sitting on her chair contentedly, she tucks into a packet of greasy hot chips and holds a plastic bottle of fizzy emerald green creme soda.  She regards her wares and customers alike with an authoritative air – she has respect.

The noise is crazy at times.  “Two dollar skinny jeans, two dollar skinny jeans!”  “Amablouse, amablouse, two dollars only!”, “Bum shorts one dollar, bum shorts one dollar!”  Children play around the clothes, babies are bound to mother’s backs.  Some people are sleeping – they have been up very early to set up their stalls.

It’s the sad reality of our country, this informal sector scratching a living…. but despite this, everyone is friendly, and making a plan.  We are all kindred spirits here at the Bendover.  We enjoy the banter and the jovial atmosphere as we wonder up and down the aisles packed with piles of clothes, shoes displayed in lines or hung up on wires, brightly coloured bags and lines of leather belts.

We notice that there is even kitchen cutlery for sale now.  An entrepreneurial man is selling fruit and vegetable smoothies, made right here under the Jacaranda trees in the middle of the chaos.  Ice cream men on their bicycles and biscuit sellers ride up and down the road, hoping to make a few dollars.

An hour and a half later, bags full and change finished (except for a dollar for Pedius), we work out that between us we have fourteen items for $30.

Thank goodness for Bendover.  Whenever we travel now, shopping for clothes just isn’t an option.  Why would we pay $30 to $40 for a pair of jeans, when we can buy a beautiful designer pair for $2 from our very own Bendover Bazaar?

We hope that one day in the not too distant future, we will be back at the bustling Bulawayo Bendover Bazaar.