Before
My family and I moved from Zimbabwe in 2002 to Christchurch, New Zealand when I was barely a human at three years old. Prior to the move my parents were working and living on a farm in Marondera, a town 40 Kilometres away from the capital of Zimbabwe, Harare. My parents decided to leave their beautiful home country for three main reasons; heath care, my dad had bladder cancer and the hospitals were unsanitary and not able to do enough for him, education, all the professionals were leaving Zimbabwe and that included the teachers, and safety, my parents were living on a farm when farm invasions were happening across the country. They feared their lives and for my future. My mother and father first moved us to Whyalla, Australia. They tried to make the dusty landscape, similar to Zimbabwe, home. But when they visited the Garden City, Christchurch to see a quintessential New Zealand rugby game, they fell in love and the land of the long white cloud has been my home ever since.
When was in Year 3 and I would tell other kids at school that I was born Africa. They would question me saying “ but you’re white?”. I laugh about that now because 12 years older and people still don’t get it, they say, “But where are you really from”. To that I don’t know what to reply because for several generation my family has lived in Zimbabwe. Before that we come from a big mix of places that makes it impossible to define myself as one nationality. Zimbabwe was always been a deeply interesting place to me, I feel special to have been born in this exciting and exotic country and have parents that had a different accent. Even my year 6 speech was about Robert Mugabe, his bad politics and what Africa is like. I connected with a teacher in high school because just like me she cared for Africa as she had spent time there teaching in Tanzania. I know that being from Zimbabwe is the whole reason why I am at University Studying to be a journalist. Because even from a young age I was dumbfounded that people didn’t really know what was going on there and I have always felt the need to tell people what is happening in Zimbabwe because it is so starkly different from peaceful New Zealand.
My aunty, uncle and cousins made the move to New Zealand when I was 12 years old. They’d experienced another home invasion, this one more dangerous than previous and it was their catalyst for moving here. My cousins at the time were just teenagers and didn’t like the move, they would have to start a new school, in a new country and make new friends. But in the end they adjusted well and them being here gave me a better understanding of life in Zimbabwe. I was able to hear all of their stories and experiences. Good and bad.
My mother especially always longed for Africa. She missed the weather, community and her roots were there, not here in New Zealand. In 2019, my parents booked flights to South Africa and Zimbabwe. We would finally be able to go back home and they could show me the country they were so fond of. I always wanted to see it and to be able to understand the place that I’ve heard so much about growing up. Now I had the chance.
While I was there
We started off our 3 week trip in Johannesburg for the night, we didn’t leave the hotel. Mum was too nervous to venture out in the most dangerous city in the world. We then stayed for the first part of our trip in Pietermaritzburg. On the drive over I noticed the dry landscape and that the houses and schools were separate and protected by tall wire fences that were usually electric. We stayed with my parents friends from their youth. I learnt about the rules that were in place for their teen children’s protection, they weren’t allowed to walk to school, walk around the mall on their own or even leave the security gates open. The 15 year old son told us about his friend who was kidnapped while on his bike not even half an hour from where we were staying. This boy escaped by jumping out of the car and luckily someone he knew was driving not far behind and picked him up. The mother explained this and told us that young white boys in the area were being kidnapped for African witchcraft, where they would be killed for their presumed virginity. This was shocking to me. It’s so evil and frightening. This also made me wonder how you can live there and let your son ride his bike? But how can you not? In a place with little to do, and riding bikes a way for their children to connect with each other, they can’t in reality keep their children locked up. These kinds of questions are what a lot of parents in South Africa and Zimbabwe grapple with. They want to give their children freedom but the reality is, is that with that freedom comes great risk. This same family also experienced a house invasion. An occurrence common for families who make even a little bit of money. They told us the perpetrators held guns to their heads and to their kids heads. They feared rape. They came of easy with only their material possessions taken and no one harmed. Which is not the case for many other people.
After Pietermaritzburg we mainly stayed in tourist places, hidden from the poverty of Africa. Except for the shanty towns we drove past on the highway, the people walking right up next to the highway inches away from being hit and others standing too close to the road holding up basketball sized avocados, with pleading eyes trying to get you to buy some. On the same highways, where the speed limit was 120km/h, we’d see people crammed in the back of open Utes with the plethora of crashes on these highways, it makes you shudder. The streets and bush nearest to the roads where always littered with rubbish. An example of the peoples lack of care as a citizen and the lack of care the government has for its country. This reflects in the people attitudes towards the law as well. People didn’t stick to the law, people speed frequently and drink driving was a major problem as well as crime.
In Uvongo, a beach town where we learnt to surf, we saw vervet monkeys picking at the rubbish for scrapes to survive and then not long after we would see African men doing the same. This resonated with me as it showed how devastatingly desperate people were to survive.
After Uvongo we flew to Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe. That is where the magic was for me. The falls itself were magnificent, powerful and a true must see. In Victoria falls I also had the chance to walk with elephants and feed them. They were extraordinary. The had long eyelashes, soft ears and a cheeky nature. Being up close with these gigantic beasts really did take your breath away. These animals a treasure of Africa, and others such as rhino, needed to be watched and protected from the likes of poachers who will do anything for this kind of game. It was obvious while being there that Victoria Falls is the hub for tourism in Zimbabwe. Many people from other parts of Zimbabwe move their to be able to make a stable living and to get the foreign currency needed to improve their lives.
When we arrived in Bulawayo, my birth place, there were lots of police stops, as the newly appointed President Mnangagwa was in town. His presence was unavoidable. We saw an excessive entourage of numerous police bikes, police cars and 2 ambulances and random Hilux’s to protect Mnangagwa.
The city of Bulawayo felt like it was a post-apocalyptic movie set. The buildings were run down, signs above shops that didn’t match what the stores were and there were many people selling bits and pieces on the side of the road. The lines for petrol went for kilometres down the street and the prices had in recent times increased 130%. The city was neglected. As were the people. In Zimbabwe there is a 90% un-employment rate and poverty is rife throughout the country. In Bulawayo we visited the hospital I was born in and we were surprised to find my name and birthdate on a plaque on the wall in the birthing ward amongst others. There it was, the proof that this is where I began. While there we also flipped through photo albums of mum and dad and their friends having an absolute ball and loving being young and in Africa, in the days when the crime and poverty weren’t nearly so bad .
Also in Bulawayo, I talked to a mother whose son is about to finish high school, I asked her what he’ll do when he finishes school. She said he can’t go to University here because, “there are too many Africans”. I felt like saying, “you are in Africa, what did you expect? The whole generation of youth in South African’s and Zimbabweans seem to have plans to study overseas in America or England. One Zimbabwean I talked to had the grades to apply to Harvard but would have to get a scholarship to afford to go there. They grow up in Africa but they leave for better opportunities and stay away for a better quality of living. They leave their parents who by this point have little chance of immigrating and they leave Africa to fend for itself yet again.
While on our trip we stayed in many of my parents friends’ houses, I found the presence of maids at every house we went to strange. They are a personal part of these people’s lives there, with many having the same maid for decades. Yet the maids were bossed around, told to their jobs better and to do stuff that isn’t really their job. For example, taking care of babies and feeding the dogs while you’re away. They also don’t get paid much. Yes they usually live on the property rent free but the minimum wage set by the Zimbabwean government is between US$85 (approx $128NZD) to US $100 (approx. 151NZD) per month. Which is extremely low, as these maids usually work 6 days a week and for unstable hours.
I was also enraged and uneasy hearing South African’s and Zimbabweans using derogatory terms, that are unaccepted and for the most part unspoken in New Zealand. We came across a lot of people like this. It made me really upset and angry. I couldn’t believe that there were people out there, regular people, who had such deep rooted hate towards others and felt free to express that and the community they lived in was okay with that. That part of the trip was awful but eye opening. It made me realise how politically correct New Zealand is and I appreciate that for the most part New Zealanders are inclusive and not accepting of derogatory terms.
I know that being a white middle class female from New Zealand did effect what I encountered on my trip and that if my parents didn’t know people there we wouldn’t have had such a local experience.
After
In reflection of the trip. I wouldn’t go back. Not for a long time. It taught me a lot about Zimbabwe and I am now very grateful to have grown up in New Zealand. In New Zealand, crime is much lower, meaning I can live a more free life absent from extreme anxiety around safety. Living in New Zealand also means that I’ve been giving more opportunities. I go to a really great university, without having to pay international fees and I can still live near my parents. My dad wouldn’t be alive today if my parents had not taken the risk and moved. We wouldn’t have found the faith we are currently in, that gives us peace, comfort and joy if we hadn’t moved. I would be living a very different life and be a very different person. I think that Africa will always be seen differently in the eyes of the beholder. For my mum it’s home and the faults I see are just a part of the place she’s always loved and always will. The tourist will find it spectacular but confronting. The African visiting from their new country may come to appreciate their new home while always having a love for Africa. The person living there may be loyal to the country and do what they can to survive it or they may be planning their escape.
I will always feel connected to Zimbabwe but my home is New Zealand.