Hyde Park by Petinah Gappah

Hyde Park by Petina Gappah



It was summer in 1997 when I first decided to ride the National Express coach from Cambridge to visit London. I was still a student back then.



I remember feeling uneasy after seeing the driver's arm filled with tattoos that covered his wrist. His shaven head and his loud cockney accent. I was surprised by the driver's sweet manner when he gave me the change.



By four in the afternoon, I was London- glutted and sight-sore. I hopped off the bus and walked into Hyde Park from the Marble Arch entrance.



Places like the pudding lane, Westminister Abbey, The Old Bailey, the sparkling, dirty Thames, and the many sights and places I knew from books and television.



I almost became part of the crowd which consists of middle-aged woman, men in white trousers, and women who were wearing a Saris accessorized clothing with colorful woven bags from Latin America.



I saw a bearded Christian Evangelist preacher as I walked past the crowd. Who seems to not believe in their claims.



I listened to a bearded Christian preaching hell and brimstone in a soft tones that convinced of the impending doom he prophesied.



I was passing by until I realized that I was in the speakers corner. The charm of the first visit has never left me. Speakers' Corner is one of my favourite places in London. It speaks to the British tolerance for eccentricity that I love most about them.



Hyde Park reminds me of home as it gives an idea of what Harare's planners had in mind when they designed the Harare Gardens.



As I left the park through Hyde Park Corner that day in 1997, I walked away with an idea in my mind of the kind of place that my city could have become, of the kind of place that Harare still could be when, and if ever, it grows up.



THE END