Second-hand shoes, size 7
In my worst nightmare I had never imagined Zimbabweans being reduced to this level of poverty and degradation.
Themba (not his real name of course) lost his nine-year old daughter in a car accident earlier this year. Soon after he was diagnosed as HIV positive himself, and he began attending my friend’s clinic for counselling. Troubles enough to contend with, one would have thought, but that was just the beginning …
Themba, his wife Noma, and their nine-month old baby, Memory, were living in a shack at Mbare. It was all they could afford seeing their only income was the pittance Noma earned from selling vegetables on the streets six days a week.
Then Mugabe’s Tsunami struck Mbare. Within 24 hours all the dwellings and informal businesses of thousands of Mbare residents had been flattened in the infamous Operation Murambatsvina. Themba and Noma’s shack was destroyed along with the rest. As Mugabe’s uniformed thugs withdrew all that remained of the once-vibrant street community was so much charred debris, under a dark pall of smoke. A good night’s work for the dictator.
When she learnt of their plight my friend found the desperate family a room in Borrowdale – a temporary measure to put a roof over their heads at least. Alas it was too late for the baby, Memory, who died within a few days of the move. Died of what, it is difficult to say. Malnutrition, an infant infection, the deadly virus, or exposure ? Over exposure to a heartless and cruel world, I say.
Another victim of another whim of the fascist dictator - for order, martial discipline, vengeance and power. Another statistic, this one not even recorded. Who cares ? Who will remember Memory ? Her distraught mother and father, of course. But it was too much for Noma. No sooner had she buried her baby daughter than she took her own life, painfully, with a double dose of rat poison.
Leaving just Themba – with no wife, no child, no house, no work – and precious little dignity. Thank God he later found his way back to my friend who had been counselling him, and she, through dogged perseverance, found him a job sweeping a factory floor.
Themba was so grateful to be offered a job, but there was a problem. He did not own a single pair of shoes and he could hardly report for work barefoot. Could my friend help with this too ? She sms’d her friends and soon enough had found a pair of shoes, size 7, second-hand.
So Themba reports for work as a factory hand, still not defeated. An incredible testimony to the indomitable human spirit. But how will he ever heal the hurt and grief within ? Wouldn’t rage be more appropriate than resignation?
