Tale guide

Spot on!

In Zimbabwe at the turn of the century, inflation had spiraled out of control and the Zimbabwe Dollar had fallen in value against the South African Rand to around 500 to 1.

Similarly, the cost of goods and services for local folk had multiplied to crazy levels.

For tourists from across the world however, the price of a holiday to Victoria Falls or a houseboat excursion on Kariba was unbelievably affordable.

The face value of banknotes had to be adjusted to accommodate the significant dilution of value, and so it wasn’t long before five hundred Zimbabwe dollar (ZD500) notes were widely in circulation; one of which may just have bought you a loaf of bread or a liter of milk.

In those early years and with the blessing of our company, my good friend, Barry Woan, and I were able to plan a number of fishing excursions on lake Kariba as well as to fishing camps on the Zambezi in which we were able to take highly valued clients on never-to-be-forgotten experiences on what became an annual event.

Over the years, we had developed strong friendships, many of which survived the professional association long after retirement or, in some cases, long after emigration to start new lives in Australia and New Zealand.

Of course, the planning and execution was made possible by the fact that Barry had been born in Rhodesia and had served in the British South African Police Support Unit throughout the war. He was thus well known and completely at home in Zimbabwe in general and Bulawayo in particular.

It was in those very early years that Team Smelly Fingers had its origins.

TSF is still going strong today in 2021. Many new members have since been attracted to its madness as a result of their historical association with the few stalwart founding members who remain very active participants and are the primary catalysts of its continued existence and success.

You may understand a little of its substance if I mention that Team Smelly Fingers is best known as a drinking team with a fishing problem.

On one such trip a group of eight of us drove in a three-vehicle convoy from Johannesburg to a fishing camp at Deka on the banks of the Zambezi.

The team stopped over for the night in Bulawayo, located in Matabeleland region close to the Motobo National Park where Cecil John Rhodes is buried beneath a commemorative marble slab amongst a landscape of granite boulders where a number of the last remaining black eagles can be found.

After the long drive including navigating our way through the Beit bridge customs and immigration posts of both countries, we arrived in Bulawayo as the sun was setting.

We freshened up and had a beer or three before Barry sat us all down in a semi-circle on the floor and proceeded to officiate (as he regularly is wont to do), over a ‘welcoming to Zimbabwe’ ceremony.

During the course of his address, he pulled out a large trunk and proceeded to hand each of us many bundles of ZD500 bills which, he suggested, we push into the pockets of our jackets, trousers and under our caps.

We gathered that where we were about to go to for dinner would require most, if not all of these ‘tens of thousands’ of Zim. Dollars.

And so, with each of us heavily laden with bundles of ZD500 notes on our personages, we were off to a cozy Portuguese restaurant, reputedly famous for its Mozambican Peri Peri Chicken.

Team Smelly Fingers arrived at what turned out to be a fabulous Portuguese restaurant, ready for a great night.

The Peri Peri chicken was without doubt the finest I have ever eaten before or since and the memory of that evening still resonates with me to this day.

The camaraderie, tall stories, jibes and jockeying have always been the very essence of TSF throughout the many decades of its existence and this night was no different.

But the quality of the meal together with the participation of the manager and staff of the restaurant including the exceptional master chef, who introduced himself to us as Feliciano, really raised the bar!

Feliciano was born and bred Mozambiquan and had sought his fortunes in Zimbabwe a few years earlier.

He turned out to be a Peri-Peri master and a very funny and jovial individual who made our night stand out above most.

After the meal, accompanied by an untold number of bottles of wine, we made a sterling effort to empty the restaurant’s shooter stocks before finally calling for the bill.

We dug deep into our pockets and started to count out the required amount of cash, bundle by bundle, onto the table.

It wasn’t long before the bundles of Zim. dollars, each wrapped in an elastic band, were piled high on the table.

With a generous tip for the staff, we made up the bill for approximately 280, 000 dollars!

Feliciano approached the table to collect the money.

“Are you going to count this?” we asked him, incredulously. I mean it would have taken him the rest of the night!

Feliciano lifted the first bundle of notes off the pile and held it close to his ear. He then ran his thumb through the compact notes with a steady ‘thruuuump!’

With a twinkle in his eye, he then mischievously declared for all to hear, “Spot on!” whereupon the entire restaurant burst into laughter and a resounding applause.

And with that, a memorable evening was firmly engraved on our memories.

Decka Fishing camp

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