State of Confusion . . .

Zimbabwe, so far, is a bit of an enigma. I’m trying to get a foothold but the pieces of it’s socio-political/cultural puzzle don’t fit together in any way that I’ve ever seen before. I’m at the bottom of a steep learning curve.

Take race for example. Back home there are racial divisions, obviously. We would like to fancy ourselves an enlightened and post-racial society. Or at least well on the path to it. And we are lucky because MOST of our stereotypes and racial divisions are enabled and backed by socio-economic barriers. Barriers of access. Barriers created by covert housing and development tactics. Those of us who harbor racial stereotypes can hide behind these guises.

“It’s not that I choose to avoid you because you’re color makes me uncomfortable. I am enabled to avoid you because you don’t live in my neighborhood, don’t have access to my services and your children go to a completely different school. See? I’m not racist! I just try not to look very hard at (or blindly trust) the reasons why I am afforded these opportunities, and you and yours are not.”

The overt ignorance of the many is enabled by the covert racism of the few. But I think it’s safe to say it’s something we’re working on.

Here, things are different. Strikingly different. The following was explained to me by a woman who works for a migration NGO.

There are four distinct groups in Zimbabwe. Black Africans, White Africans, Colored and Indian. Colored is “mixed” but “from way back” as it was explained. She also went on to say that for the most part, these groups do not mix. They go to different restaurants, different clubs, different houses of worship, many even go to different schools. And it is, in large part, completely self-selected and by choice.

These four groups live in the same neighborhoods, sharing fences, sharing the morning commute. No one group is significantly wealthier than the other (although I have been told the wealthiest whites in Zimbabwe are outdone by the wealthiest blacks, and by a wide margin.) As it was explained, the people of Zimbabwe segregate themselves this way for purely cultural reasons.

That’s not to say that I haven’t in the last 4 days seen mixing and mingling. I’m actually pretty proud to say that the MOST diverse group of people I’ve had the privilege to meet so far is at the office here. Beyond that though, the scenery has been predominantly white.

I’ve got 3 weeks to learn how to navigate these divisions and diversify my experience. And GO.

I'm also thrown a little for a loop by the economic condition of Zimbabwe. People here are educated, personable, and everyone I've met so far is at the least bi-lingual. And everyone seems so industrious.  The house I'm staying in, like most homes, has a large vegetable and herb garden, a water catchment system, fruit trees, an avocado tree (so much the yummy). At the malls there are complex PVC piping schemes that water the plants from rain water. People are phenomenally self-sufficient.

These are what I would call depression era tactics. Unemployment is somewhere between 85 - 95%. It is a staggering statistic, and I honestly don't know how it's possible because Harare comes off as a city with at least 70% employment. This place is a giant suburb. I'm living in the capital city, but I have yet to drive by anything that looks at all like a slum. Long, wide streets, lush greenery in every yard, wonderfully spacious homes on rolling lawns. For MILES. Not once have I been begged for money. There is a small downtown area with shops. You could walk Harare from end to end without encountering an ounce of trouble. In the dark. Wearing a flashing neon sign that says "ROB ME! I HAVE LOTS OF MONEY!"

I would completely understand if you were thinking to yourself "Allie, it just sounds like you're in a nice part of town." But I've honestly been all over this damn city. And the signs of poverty are few. During the day you pass groups of idle young men, which I can tell you is generally a bad sign. And a harbinger of security risk. And yet, the crime rate is minimal.

Seriously, beyond the rampant odor of burning garbage, this place feels like a Portland suburb. With better weather, a deeper culture of sustainability and more beautiful children. 

So I've also got 3 weeks to figure out what the Zimbabwean secret to success is. And GO.