Zimbabwe

When I was growing up in Kanye, we always had a “maid” at home. Always. She perfectly carried out the daily chores: cleaned the house, swept the yard, hand-washed our clothes, ironed our clothes, and happily cooked us very nice hot meals. Further, there were about 2 to 3 different handymen, depending on who was sober to work. They cut the grasses – both the homely green (well) lawn and the wild thorny grass – watered the plants, cultivated the various fruit trees and flowers, planted maize and nche (sweet reed), and built the chicken “sefe” (house).  I vividly remember that one was a pit-latrine digger, a very strong man, indeed.  I met him recently, when I was home. We had a brief conversation.

All these people were my countrymen, my fellow citizens. They were Batswana, from Botswana.

Around the late 90s, rather early 2000s, the pattern changed dramatically. My parents still employed the minimally paid so-called ‘helpers’ – but they were not Batswana. Now, a large number came from the once breadbasket of Africa, Zimbabwe – almost all of them. Just like the Batswana I once knew, they worked as harder. Of course, initially, the Zimbabweans started with selling, house-to-house, items such as mangoes, sculptures, and even curtains before they were Cobra polishing sitting room floors of Batswana homes, taking care of Batswana babies; as well as digging pit-latrine toilets and graves.

Perhaps, the unfolding events in Zimbabwe can help shed some light into this assertion: ’’Zimbabweans work harder than Batswana’’.

#zimbabwe