The prime days of my childhood were spent in Glen Norah A, a neighbourhood in the South Western side of Harare just about a fifteen-minute drive from the capital’s CBD, seven or so when the traffic is low and you’re not too old. And from the age fourteen years old onwards to eighteen much of my time was spent away at boarding schools.
I came to complement the talk of bad governance in Africa through first hand experiences and understood how it strongly impacts the lives of imminent citizens. Bread queues, food shortages, ‘currency inflation’, corruption and higher petty-crime rates are just some of the things that characterise the hard life that comes along with it to an average citizen.
Bread Queues
The most remarkable: 'bread queues’, the saddle skipped me during the weekdays when I had to go to school. There was a maid at home who would leave her duties to join queues at the stores. And at times my auntie would have cut a deal with the bread sourcing ‘boyz’ in town. The bread shelves in the country were almost always empty in the years 2002 and 2003. And those ‘boyz’ were always on point, predicted the outlets, and kept updated on where there would be a sale. And with the bread prices rising at a quite stable rate in the years; ranging from ZW$2500 up to ZW$3000 allowed the dealers to add around ZW$250 -500 making a profit of maybe 10-20%, spare the group they were in just another sad wing of life in the country's economy.
But, it wasn’t every child that didn’t have to go in the morning queues. Most of the times in the morning going to school I would see children on every store that I passed regardless they had to be in school or if the delivery trucks would bother show up. That’s how bad it was. Bread is one of the main component of the day’s meals in the country, yet it was almost nowhere to be found as was with its substitutes.
It was on all weekends and almost every day of the holidays that year that I would wake up at 5: 00 am in order to catch a favourable position in one of the queues. And it was like that for the whole of 2003.
On one of the days I was almost in front of the queue before the bread truck arrived. And the people were too tired and frustrated by waiting for long hours. When it arrived the queue ruined out of enthusiasm. Sweating men and women stampeded the store’s entrance. And guards were flogging people out of the store.
I took my chances, incisively using my tiny body to get past the adult bodies until I was at the store’s entrance. Unfortunately, the guard struck into crowd with his button stick right as I set my foot at the stairs of the store.
And he caught me on the head, I dropped on the floor, half fainted, and bleeding. I only woke up at the back of the store moments later where I leant impotently against an anonymous pee smelling wall.
Night Mealie Meal Queues
If there could be any chaos worse of those related to food in the country in the years 2002 and 03 was that of mealie meal. Mealie meal is the only ingredient of the country’s staple food, sadza. Yet also there was there was none in the shops. The country’s land handover exercise hadn’t gone too well, and agriculture was at one of its worst of times and to make the situation worse, the pile of international embargoes were beginning to sweep of every manufacturing company by storm.
In the times before, it had never been a problem finding corn meal in the shops just like with the ‘staple’ in any other stable nation. Now in hard times the conditions dictated it to be sold only at night. The streets would flood if it had been in the afternoon for people from different locations would throng to places where it was being sold. Besides the shops, mealie meal could be found on the dark-market tagged with the enormous black-market prices and tagged at false weights, 7kilogrammes is 10 kilogram’s that sort thing.
Mealie meal queues were even bigger and chaotic. All the people were there, most day workers from the public services, and private workers you name it, pickpockets too. And at the peak of the plight people had to wait until around 9pm for the delivery trucks to show up, and the grinning and the lashing would begin.
I would have been at home some time earlier, my auntie instructing me catch a place in the queue and to spot her when she showed up. She was the one who would come with the money to pay; kids couldn’t be trusted with money in such an environment.
Pickpockets! For the four or five times I went to the queues, she had always showed up in time before this other night. The trucks arrived earlier than expected and I picked a bag and found a marginal and cosy spot to wait in the disused parts of the store. Thirty minutes, one hour, one and a half hours and I fell asleep until woke in the early hours of the morning because of the cold and the store was empty. And I crouched on the spot, dead cold, until 7: am.
Scanty Food in Boarding Schools 2007- 2008
Attending a boarding school was every kid’s dream in the country before the late 2000s. The first of the ‘modern’ educated elite emanated from 'white' mission boarding schools, eventually becoming the standard of modern ‘Zimbabwean’ people. And also just the fact of being away from home with lots of food, kidding. But to some extent.
Also, the schools were top priority for parents, compared to ‘most’ government schools which were the only cheaper alternatives, provided top quality education, were quite expensive (which came along with a bit of status in society to families, and had desirable diets as opposed to household).
In-between 2007-08 boarding schools in Zimbabwe became a living hell. Living conditions at the schools were worsening quicker than the country’s economy. Food became painfully scarce. Food imports were at their lowest, the inflation was massive and food production was almost nowhere to be found. Funny meals were being served and at times at odd hours of the day. Soya meat and corn silo (for bulk serving isn’t really something that should bestore especially for three times a day). The cooks played along, negligence was evident in every circle.
Those few financially capable parents moved their children to the ‘limited’ private day schools or just enrolled them overseas. And those who couldn’t afford lucrative day schools yet had academically in-astute children had no option but to settle for government schools which hardly had any teachers.
One of the days in 2007 as we sat around the dining table at dinner, about ten or so as we were grouped in the little dining mass of around 400 students. One subversive pushed over the dishes of silo and chunks stood over the tables screaming, ENOUGH! And that was enough to make everyone’s rage apparent.
I remained seated-looking out through the windows as everyone raged. But, I wasn’t a traitor to my tummy nor despised the movement but I had a good reason for it. I had taken advantage of the inflation rates and I felt it was unfair for me to complain.
What was witnessed in the morning; a few burnt cars (which were useless either way, fuel was nowhere to be found); burnt school admin houses and a couple of silly casualties of course (broken classroom windows).
Inflation and manipulation
Rates ranged around 500 billion% at the peak of the Zimbabwean dollar high inflation rate era. New ‘zero-slashed” notes were being introduced every month, from 2007-08 the National Reserve Bank introduced new styled notes for more than ten times with hoards of denominations per lot, ZW$1 to ZW$100 Trillion.
The situation made it impossible for schools to project budgets. Most at the end of the terms pegged fees in absurd figures. But not surprisingly, in one months' time when the holidays came to an end, that figure would be too little that some kids could afford to cover it own their own.
I loved video games when I was in school. Yet they are luxuries. And in such an economy luxuries weren’t the best of things to chase after; daily basics were hardly being met. And I couldn’t afford to buy any, what I had was a risky option.
Since banks were out of the question for school fees payments, for they wouldn’t manage to operate on the minimum cash withdrawal limits. School fees payments were limited to school administrations for payment in cash.
Because of that I would be given my school fees ‘personally’ to go and pay to the school's cash office. But instead of paying I would look for video games with half of it, and do a down payment just enough to get me into school. The rest of it, buy $US 1.00 off the black market and Keep it in a safe place at school waiting for the end the term just before the exams. And at that time it wasn’t rare to come across a fellow student searching for used up notes around the dormitories (which were ‘worthy’ at the start of the term) from other students so that they could settle their fees.
When the food row arose, I hadn’t paid my school fees. That is why I kept staring outside through the windows where the heavy winds blew away the dry leaves off the trees instead.
I had a US$1.00 stashed somewhere in my trunk waiting for for the right time to spin it so that I could settle the (billions) which would have been equivalent to around US$250 at the start of the term. It felt unfair that I should complain when I hadn’t done my part in the first place.
Corruption in broad daylight
Corruption was at rife during the country’s worst economic era of 2007-2008. Not necessarily because the casualties were greedy, but the desperation that comes along with such conditions were the greater force behind the actions. Integrity was definitely out of the picture.
Save yourself! The big wigs are at it too. Bribes! The reports were everywhere, the newspapers, the local and international news, banners, campaigns (the irony), and more.
Corruption was noble. Any survival ordeal in a broken economy goes. And the standpoint pervaded all circles in the society. Even the least expected. And as reported the police were amongst the top guns of corruption.
Normally, the country’s police do not set roadblocks after 10pm in highways; there is hardly any traffic at that time. Also, at a normal police roadblock there are ratting sign posts at a distance ‘Slow down Police Ahead’. But contrary it was the case on this other day when I was travelling from an aunt’s visit in Goromonzi. Our bus was stopped at a roadblock by two armed ‘pop-up’ traffic police offENOUGHin the thick darkness of the night just a few metres before we got into Harare and one the officers wrote a huge traffic ticket that summed up into an outrageous on-spot bill knowing the driver wouldn’t afford it.
As the norm, the driver suggested a bribe and the officer received the agreed fee. And we were expecting to get back on the road the other officer shut down the bus’s engine and apprehended the driver 'charging' him of bribing an officer. The driver was cuffed and got taken to the b-car and spent a very long time in it until the conductor who was being urged by the frustrated passengers followed him. The driver asked him for all the money passengers had paid and he paid the other officer another bribe.
But the officer thought it was too little and he had to pay more or else he would add another bribery charge. It was almost at midnight when the conductor tired of negotiating with the officers, came back to the bus and asked all the passengers to pay the bus fair for a second time in order to meet the officer’s demand or the driver would be arrested and the bus would be abandoned for the rest of the night. And sadly I had to pay for the ride again.
