My body reacts instinctively when I notice that something’s amiss. It’s a out-of-sorts feeling maybe a bit similar to having a word on the tip of my tongue. It’s a feeling that doesn’t go away until I sort out the abnormality in question. Like wondering why there’s so little Monday morning road traffic until I realize that I’ve forgotten to make the jump to daylight savings time.
It’s what I felt this weekend in Harare. Walking down from the Avenues into downtown I caught sight of the most beautifully surreal skyscraper I’ve ever seen.
Tall, shimmering, with deep blue sky and tall white clouds reflecting off its wall of windows, almost challenging the real clouds and sky on who has better looks.
My intuition immediately told me something wasn’t right. Skyscrapers don’t go with thick lawn and leafy trees; they get surrounded by concrete jungle. Sky never reflects bright blue nor clouds dazzling white; pollution, drizzle and dirty windows often dull any such sight. A solitary skyscraper doesn’t fit either; usually they’re packed together, each reflecting the other.
But there it was—the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe striking a magnificent pose on a Saturday morning in March.