Tag: Southern Africa

Operation Murambatsvina: Fear and suffering 10 years on

19 May 2015 marks 10 years since the Government of Zimbabwe’s programme of mass forced evictions, locally know as Operation Murambatsvina (Operation Drive Out Rubbish). According to the United Nations, some 750 000 people lost their homes and businesses in the widely-condemned programme. Ten years on, the affected people have not accessed effective remedies, have not been compensated for their loss and thousands allocated plots of land under the Operation Garikai/Hlalani kuhle (Good living) live in settlements with no basic services, schools, clinics and were driven deeper into poverty. Farai Machena* had his home destroyed. Here, he shares his own experience.

A picture taken on June 17 2005 shows a house being destroyed in Chitungwiza, about 30km south of Harare, as part of Robert Mugabe’s government clean-up campaign named Operation Murambatsvina. (Pic: AFP)

Operation Murambatsvina started on 19 May 2005 in other areas, but reached our settlement of Hatcliffe Extension on 27 May. On that sad day, state security agents moved into our community and physically removed my family from our home before pulling down the structure we had built. We had been living in Hatcliffe Extension since 1993. My home was destroyed by the government despite the fact that it had actually settled us there. We had a lease agreement officially recognising our occupation of the property.

After our homes were destroyed we were left in the open for days during the beginning of Zimbabwean winter. We were later taken to a holding camp at Caledonia Farm on the outskirts of Harare where life was terrible – the services were extremely stretched, children dropped out of school, we did not have enough food, shelter or toilets.

Operation Murambatsvina marked the beginning of a new phase in our lives. It started with promises by the government for a better life under Operation Garikai. Government promised to build better houses. However, most of us ended up in tents. The government gave us four wooden poles and four metal roofing sheets. From these we were supposed to rebuild our destroyed homes. To add pain to injury, government said we had been evicted in error since we had Lease Agreements. We were told that we could go back to the same plots that our homes had been destroyed. Well-wishers gave us plastic material to construct shelter with. All privacy was lost as family members shared the little living space.

The situation has not improved 10 years on. We are still languishing in extreme poverty, surviving from hand to mouth. The majority of the over 20 000 people living in Hatcliffe Extension have no source of income. Operation Murambatsvina made worse an already desperate situation.

Operation Murambatsvina robbed us of our sources of livelihood. Today development or progress in our beloved mud city, Hatcliffe Extension, as it is affectionately known, is non-existent.

Lost hope
Despite the existence of a national housing policy and a Constitution that prohibits arbitrary evictions, we continue to live with the fear of another forced eviction.

I cannot stop thinking of what my community lost. Living in an independent Zimbabwe, I am yet to enjoy any benefits of independence. My education was disrupted by the forced evictions. Our lives have not improved. All I know is suffering. I have to struggle for everything.

During Operation Murambatsvina, despite the destruction and the accompanying suffering, we actually had some flicker of hope. For a moment we thought that it was just a matter of time before our longtime dream of adequate housing was fully realised. Little did we knew that it was like that moment after a long walk in a desert that you lift up your head and see something you mistake for an oasis, you gather your last strength thinking that you will soon quench your thirst only to realise that it was something else.

The forced eviction has also exposed young people in my community to exploitation. As a young person living in Hatcliffe Extension I feel that people are not being afforded the opportunity to participate in development issues that affect our community. We have become victims of exploitation from opportunistic political parties, politicians and pseudo-development agents who masquerade as liberators of the youth.

Young people’s voices are ignored resulting in disempowerment. The situation of young people makes me recall Paulo Freire, who says ‘to liberate the oppressed without their reflective participation in the act of liberation (is equivalent) to treating them as objects which must be saved from a burning building; it is to lead them into the populist pitfall and transform them into masses which can be manipulated.”

As young people in Hatcliffe Extension we want to participate in our community on an equal footing with other stakeholders. We were all affected by the forced evictions. We have the passion, zeal, enthusiasm, and a deep motivation to transform our situation. There is no dignity in begging. We want to be able to support our own families.

*not his real name

Amnesty International has been campaigning against mass forced evictions in Zimbabwe since 2005. We are campaigning for effective remedies for the survivors, including access to basic services such as healthcare and education.

10 years ago

My shitty country

(Pic: AFP)

You should walk down First Street in Harare just before summer starts. You should smell the scent of the purple jacaranda flowers, it is a mixture of petrol and sugar, a scent that excites my senses. You should meet a Zimbabwean vendor at Avondale flea market, trying to sell you a wooden knobkierie of NyamiNyami , the River God. His charisma only will make you part with your hard-earned 25 dollars. His humour will make you want to know him more. He will tell you about Chido, his 14-year-old daughter with more brains than her father. He will tell you about her aspirations to study medicine at the University of Zimbabwe.

You should take a kombi from Fourth Street to the nearby town of Chitungwiza. You will hear about Tapiwa, Lisa’s boyfriend, who keeps calling her incessantly, checking if she has arrived at the bus stop yet so they can go and fondle each other under the Musasa tree before Lisa has to go home and start cooking. You will hear about how the electricity always goes off except on Mondays. You will see the whindi (conductor) paying off the traffic police more times than you can count.

You should take a walk down Sam Levy’s Village, a shopping paradise. There you will see people who do not experience water or electricity shortages. You will see people who have never used KK and Munga buses or any form of public transport. You will hear talk about Tin Roof and H2O, the hottest night spots in town. You will see teenagers who dress like Drake or Nicki Minaj, children who look like they stepped off the pages of Vogue. You will meet people who do not know that Zimbabwe went through an economic crisis in 2008.

You should fly to Victoria Falls. There you will truly realise that nature’s beauty is ineffable. You will hear thunder that will remind you of twenty vuvuzelas being blown at once. You will meet people who have learnt to use their hands to craft masterpieces that travel the world. You will talk to the supermarket cashier who has never been to see the “beautiful” falls even though she has stayed in Victoria Falls all of her life.

You who think you are an expert on Zimbabwe’s political and economic situation. You who so causally paint a picture of hunger, strife and misery without having set foot in my country. You who are so ready to dish out advice from the comfort of your sofa on exactly what should be done to “change the course of Zimbabwe”. Visit us and we will show you all we have to offer. Only then, after you have come to know us, can you casually call us a shitty country.

Keith Mundangepfupfu is a student at The African Leadership Academy, who identifies himself as a writer and activist. He is currently chasing down his dream of becoming an author. Follow him on Twitter: @whiplash16

10 years ago

Tough homecoming for Zimbabwean migrants fleeing xenophobia

Zimbabwe migrants disembark from a bus on arrival at the International Organisation for Migration Reception and Support Centre in Beitbridge on April 20 2015. (Pic: AFP)

More than 2 000 Zimbabweans displaced by xenophobic attacks in South Africa have packed their bags for home. But Zimbabwe, a country teetering on the verge of economic collapse, is unlikely to offer them the means to restart their lives.

The attacks on foreigners – mainly Zimbabweans, Somalis, Malawians, Mozambicans and Nigerians – started in Durban more than two weeks ago following comments by Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini, suggesting that African migrants in South Africa were criminals who should go back to their countries and stop stealing jobs and opportunities from locals.

Machete- and gun-wielding South Africans burned foreigners’ businesses and homes, looting goods, and forcing their inhabitants to flee. Six foreign nationals died in the attacks, which spread from Durban to other parts of the country, including Johannesburg. The worst of the violence has, for the most part, subsided, but African migrants are well aware that they could re-surface at any time.

Several countries, including Malawi, Mozambique and Nigeria, have tried to evacuate their citizens from affected areas, but Zimbabwe, which has by far the largest number of nationals living in South Africa, is faced with the biggest challenge. Over years of political and economic upheaval in Zimbabwe, some 1.5 million Zimbabweans are thought to have made the trek south in search of safety and better opportunities. Zimbabwe has set up an inter-ministerial rescue taskforce to repatriate several thousand of them.

Labour and Social Welfare Secretary Ngoni Masoka told IRIN that the Zimbabwean government expected to receive some 2 400 returnees who had opted to return home following the attacks, but added the actual numbers returning could be higher.

“We are getting constant updates from our embassy in South Africa. There could be Zimbabweans who might have decided not to approach us for help for various reasons, so it is difficult to know how many are coming back exactly,” he said.

The first batch of 433 returnees arrived last week in government-provided buses at Beitbridge border post from a Durban transit camp where they were being housed following the attacks. According to Masoka, the taskforce is determining their needs, qualifications and destinations so they can be referred to provincial and district welfare officers for help with reintegration. The Zimbabwe Red Cross Society and the International Organisation for Migration (IOM) are providing returnees with food and other essentials, while specialists are offering counselling and medical attention.

Masoka declined to say whether the government had set aside a budget for the returnees.

Under no illusions

Jairos Mangwanya (36) is under no illusions that life back at home will be easy. He was among the first batch of returnees last week, but decided to hitchhike to Harare, the capital, after becoming impatient with delays getting on a government bus. He left his pregnant wife and two other children to follow on the government-provided transport and went ahead to organise them some temporary accommodation.

Mangwanya had worked in Durban as a teacher for the past eight years. He fled with his family when Zimbabweans at a neighbouring house were attacked and their belongings looted.

“We didn’t have the time to pack our belongings because the attackers were coming to our house. We only took some blankets and clothes and fled to the police station. We left our passports, educational certificates, money and other vital belongings behind,” Mangwanya told IRIN.

“That means we have virtually nowhere to start from. I can’t look for another job without my certificates and I know it will be a long time before the examinations authorities and birth registration officials here can replace my documents.”

Finding a place for him and his family to stay in Harare will be tough. Space at his two brothers’ homes is already limited.

“My brothers say my wife and the two children will go to one of the houses and I to the other. That must be for a short period, though, because they also have large families and dependants from the extended family,” said Mangwanya.

The other option is to take the family to their rural home in Mount Darwin, some 200km away from Harare. But going there will greatly reduce his chances of being able to provide for his family or of his two children being able to attend school.

Mangwanya left South Africa before receiving his April salary and is likely to forfeit his pension and other employment benefits.

Trynos Musumba (41), who was travelling from Beitbridge with Mangwanda, had been working as a plumber in Durban and sending part of his earnings to his 70-year-old mother and unemployed sisters in Zimbabwe. He left his South African wife and four-year-old child behind in Durban.

“With my return, it means no one will be able to fend for my family here. My wife is not employed and she will find life tough. I might have to look at ways of going back to a safe city in South Africa and looking for another job,” he told IRIN.

His mother, who is diabetic, and the rest of the family live in rural Mhondoro, some 50km west of Harare. The area is one of many in the country to have suffered crop failure this year following poor rains.

“This is a very bad situation being made worse for the migrants,” said John Robertson, an independent economic analyst. “They fled Zimbabwe to look for better opportunities and are returning home to the very economic crisis they tried to run away from. The situation could actually be worse than when these people went away.”

He added that unofficially, unemployment in Zimbabwe is close to 80 percent, despite official figures putting it at 11 percent.

Japhet Moyo, secretary general of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions (ZCTU), told IRIN: “Most of the companies have closed down and the few that remain are struggling. Worse still, government cannot absorb [those being laid off] because it doesn’t have the money to employ more people.”

Government too broke to help

Robertson said it was unlikely that the social welfare department would help the returnees in any meaningful way. “Our government has never had an unemployment benefit scheme or social security policy and is too broke to fund any intervention to help the returning Zimbabweans re-integrate. It will thus leave everything to the extended family, hoping that relatives will cushion the returnees.”

Musumba said that on the bus he took home with other returnees “many said they will never return to South Africa to look for jobs, but I know as soon as there is peace, they will go back because the situation in our country is so bad.”

Gabriel Shumba, a South Africa-based human rights lawyer who heads the Zimbabwe Exiles Forum (ZEF), said some 2 000 Zimbabweans remained in camps near Durban. Although churches, NGOs and the South African government are providing some aid, many are still in need of food, clothing, counselling and medical attention.

“The situation remains precarious. There is need for the humanitarian community to scale up support for the people in camps,” he told IRIN.

Shumba said his organisation was working to provide legal assistance to those who had been attacked or their property looted in an effort to ensure perpetrators could be arrested and brought to justice. South African authorities have a poor record of prosecuting perpetrators of past attacks.

He added that he did not believe repatriating victims to Zimbabwe was the answer, arguing that it “would embolden the attackers and encourage more attacks”.

10 years ago

Lunch hour at a Lesotho textile factory: A snapshot

People shop at a market in Maseru on August 31 2014. (Pic: AFP)

I am standing outside the gates of a textile factory in the Industrial Area of Maseru West. The midday sun is blaring, and the air is heavy with waiting. In ten or so minutes, at precisely 11.45am, the factory workers inside the gates will get their one-hour lunch break. Outside the gates, preparations are underway. On the concrete ground, in between puddles of dirty water, several street vendors are setting up. A woman has laid out a blanket and is arranging piles of peaches onto it. A man is heaping stacks of processed meat onto a small cooker. Somebody has botched an attempt to light a fire inside a cardboard box. The flames consume the cardboard, sending thick smoke rising into the air. Next to a wall lined with barbed wire, groups of women are seated on the only patch of grass in sight. Some have brought umbrellas to shield themselves from the harsh sun. They too are waiting, hoping to find work inside the gates.

Lesotho’s apparel and textile industry is one of the largest in Africa. This particular factory employs approximately 4 000 people, the majority of whom are women. In a country with an overall unemployment rate of 26%, the industry employs close to 40 000 people in 40 factories, providing more than 80% of Lesotho’s manufacturing employment. The majority of the garments produced in the country are for major US brands such as Gap Inc., Levi Strauss and Wal-Mart.

Since 2008, Lesotho’s government and apparel manufacturers have worked hard to market Lesotho as a ‘responsible sourcing destination’ for ‘ethical consumers’. In a nutshell, this means that textile factories in the country have to adhere to Lesotho’s labour legislation, which enshrines the International Labour Organisation’s (ILO) core conventions. These include no child or forced labour, payment of minimum wages, regulated maximum working hours and ensuring that basic requirements for health and safety are met. The major brands that source their products from Lesotho also monitor factories to ensure that working conditions meet their codes of conduct.

I am standing with ‘Mareitumetse Mokhoro, who works for the Lesotho Clothing and Allied Workers’ Union (Lecawu), a trade union that advocates for better wages and working conditions for factory workers in Lesotho. In cases of mistreatment, Lecawu offers legal assistance by representing workers in court. Mokhoro is also waiting. Lunchtime is the only time she can meet with workers.

‘Oppressed and underpaid’
“Factory workers in Lesotho are oppressed and underpaid,” Mokhoro tells me. “They receive the minimum wage, but this isn’t enough. They are often insulted or treated badly. Most of the cases that we deal with are unfair dismissals or underpayments.”

The workers in this factory receive a monthly salary of R1 212, for nine hours of work a day, five days a week. This amounts to less than R7 an hour. I find it hard to imagine how anyone survives on such a salary, especially people who have a family to support.

‘Mareitumetse Mokhoro addresses workers outside a textile factory in Maseru. (Pic: Meri Hyöky)

“Half a loaf is better than no loaf,” says Mokhoro wryly. “You know, women in Lesotho are very strong. Most factory workers do not have husbands, and they earn very little money. But still, they are able to build houses and send their children to school. Even if they are poor, they don’t give up.”

Before becoming a full-time employee of Lecawu, Mokhoro spent eight years working in a textile factory.

“As a factory worker, I was treated badly by my employers because I spoke out about the problems that workers face,” she explains. “So I decided to fight outside of the company, so that management has no control over me. Now I have a voice. I can openly say: workers are mistreated.”

“Some employers are willing to work with Lecawu, but others are hostile, and they don’t allow us to come into the factories and solve problems. We always refer cases to the courts, but these cases take a long time to be resolved. That discourages the workers.”

At 11.45, a bell rings from inside the factory and the gates open. The workers stream out, walking fast. The quiet, waiting atmosphere has instantaneously transformed into a hurrying, crowded bustle of noise and activity. Mokhoro is standing a few metres from the gates, shouting out to the workers, appealing to them to listen to what she has to say. For a good 20 minutes she receives very little response. The vendors who have been setting up are inundated. I watch as the workers walk back towards the gates, some of them clutching plastic bags of greasy chips, fat cakes and cheap, processed meat sausages. Some have brought lunch boxes with them and are hungrily tucking in. Gradually, 50 or so workers gather in a circle around Mokhoro.

I look at the weary expressions on their faces as they listen to her. Mokhoro punches her fist into the air regularly and shouts out several call-and-response slogans that are answered by a few of the onlookers. Many of them simply stand still and silent.

“What kinds of troubles do you face as workers?” she asks the group.

“We don’t earn enough money.”

“We’re hungry.”

“We have to rent small rooms.”

“We have to walk. We don’t have the money for transport.”

“Sometimes we are mistreated if we don’t understand instructions.”

“I eat only papa and cabbage!” says one woman standing close to me, pushing her plastic lunch box forward to display its contents.

For 30 minutes, Mokhoro speaks to the workers, listening to their complaints and concerns, and encouraging them to convince others to join Lecawu. With 3 800 members in 21 factories, the union has a strong presence, but in many factories it does not yet have enough members to legally bargain and negotiate with employers.

At 12.45, the bell sounds again, and the gates to the factory begin to close. The factory workers move swiftly, rushing inside, clearly frightened of the possible repercussions of being late. The ground is now littered with small plastic bags. A few of the vendors are packing up to leave. The women seated on the grass remain where they are, waiting.

Leila Hall is a freelance writer living and working in Lesotho.

10 years ago

Giant rats sniff out TB in Mozambique

This picture taken in March 2005 shows one of nine rats who helped sniff out landmines in Mozambique. (Pic: AFP)

Giant rats may strike fear and disgust into the hearts of homeowners worldwide, but researchers in impoverished Mozambique are improbably turning some of them into heroes.

At Eduardo Mondlane University in the capital Maputo, nine giant rats are busy at work – sniffing out tuberculosis-causing bacteria from rows of sputum samples.

These are no ordinary rats, as they have undergone six months of training in Tanzania. Their most distinguishing asset is their impeccable sense of smell.

Placed inside a glass cage, a rat darts from sample to sample, then stops or rubs its legs, indicating that a sample is infected with a TB causing bacteria.

Once the task is complete, it is given a treat through a syringe for a job well done.

“Within 30 minutes, the rat can test close to a hundred samples, which normally takes a laboratory technician four days,” said Emilio Valverde, TB program director at APOPO, the organisation leading the research.

The project, which started in February 2013, has brought hope to thousands of TB sufferers who sometimes receive false results and test negative using the standard laboratory system.

In 2006, tuberculosis was declared a national emergency in Mozambique, with 60 000 people in 2014 said to be infected, according to the ministry of health.

That number was a 10 percent increase from 2013.

Samples delivered to the university for testing are collected from 15 health centres across Maputo.

Rats in training

Belgian group APOPO is planning to expand the program to other parts of the country, while working on getting the system approved by the World Health Organization.

The organisation claims rat testing is more cost effective than other conventional methods.

Each rat costs around $6 700 to $8 000 to train, with a six-to-eight-year life span.

The cost is lower compared to rapid diagnostic test GeneXpert, which costs up to $17 000 per device, setting the state back between $10 and $17 per test.

The kitten-size rats are also used by APOPO to detect landmines by sniffing out explosives.

They are light enough to cross terrain without triggering the mines, and are followed by de-mining experts who reward the rats with bananas.

The rats weigh up to 1.5 pounds and are said to be “easier to catch and train” – according to Valverde.

Samples pointed out by the rats to contain TB bacteria are then sent for further tests using fluorescence microscopy, a more sensitive laboratory technique.

The results are sent back to health centres, allowing patients to start treatment early.

Although TB is a treatable disease, in underdeveloped countries like Mozambique it can be deadly if left untreated and is particularly harmful to people living with HIV.

Mozambique is one of the countries worst affected by TB and 1 in 10 adults is HIV-positive.

With World Tuberculosis Day being marked on Tuesday, the Mozambican Ministry of Health said it was cautiously monitoring the APOPO work.

“This technique has to be compared to others that are available and already WHO approved, such as GeneXpert or LED microscope,” said Ivan Manhica, who heads the national programme for tuberculosis at the health ministry.

According to the WHO, TB killed 1.5 million people in 2013.