(Co-written by Seun & ChatGPT, because two brains are better than one… even if one is made of code.)
When the plane touched down in Harare, I felt like I had just stepped into a city that paused somewhere in the late 90s and politely refused to move on. The airport itself was calm—no Lagos-style chaos of horns, hustlers, and “oga, taxi?” choruses. Instead, Harare greeted me with a strange stillness, almost suspiciously peaceful. I half expected someone to jump out and shout “Surprise!” but no, this is just Harare’s rhythm.
My hotel was equally understated—functional, no drama. Lagos hotels try to overwhelm you with noise and neon, Harare’s just hands you the key and says, “Rest, my friend.”
Later, I made my way to the Takashinga Cricket Club. For context, this week Zimbabwe is hosting the ICC Men’s T20 World Cup Africa Qualifiers—eight teams, two venues (Harare Sports Club and Takashinga), one ticket to the global stage. Nigeria, in Group A alongside Namibia, Kenya, and Malawi, will be playing their first warm up match here at Takashinga against Tanzania in a couple of days. Takashinga itself is no ordinary ground—it’s a black-owned club with history and pride stitched into its turf. Zimbabwean greats like Tatenda Taibu and Hamilton Masakadza once called it home. Standing there, watching the Nigerian cricket team prepare, I felt a quiet excitement. Cricket, after all, is not just a sport; it’s a stubborn declaration that hope can be played out over 20 overs.
But Harare itself tells a more complicated story. You can’t miss the signs of poverty—the weary buildings, the undercurrent of hopelessness. Money here is both local and foreign; Zimbabwe dollars and US dollars dance together in a confusing duet that feels like financial limbo. You pay one bill in Zim dollars, another in USD, and wonder whether you should carry a calculator or just surrender.
And yet, what struck me most wasn’t the hardship - it was the calm. Compared to Lagos, Harare feels like a deep exhale. People greet you with warmth, no edge, no rush. I walked around without that Lagos instinct to constantly look over my shoulder. Safety here feels natural, not negotiated.
Day one verdict? Harare is a city that has seen storms, but still offers shade. Quiet, friendly, safe—and cricket, of course.
(ChatGPT insists I close with something witty, so here goes: If Lagos is a live concert at 2am, Harare is an unplugged acoustic set at sunset. Both music, just very different playlists.)