Rasta, ndakatarisa mota (Rasta, I am looking at the car)
A Life ‘Ong’ Promise
Life is full of promises and sometimes, they are made forever. Recently I had an interesting conversation with an insightful diasporian. He was suggesting that Zimbabwe is on a weird but certain recovery path. One where it gets worse before it gets better but it is getting better. He pointed out how nearly half of the goods in our stores are now made in Zimbabwe. True, manufacturing raw materials and labor were expensive. True unemployment was high. But as I mentioned as well before, we have more and more businesses with Totem names and Totem nicknames because more and more Zimbabweans are starting businesses. True the business laws have plenty of archaic clauses that make it easy for local councils to exploit and get kickbacks because no one can afford to meet every regulation. True some of the political players may come for your farm or your business if and when it grows to a certain success level. Yet the recovery is undeniable, even in its being riddled with challenges.
As we talked, I darted back and forth, playing devil’s advocate on the one hand and then jumping to the laughter and positivity of acknowledging what I believed 2 years ago and even before. What I was certain of before deciding to leave the USA for Zimbabwe. Which is, that Zimbabwe is the place to be when it comes to opportunity. I am still working my way to take advantage of these opportunities, which I did try with some heartbreaking results. But I have faith and am still holding on. One question remains: Can one really earn a living in Zimbabwe while doing what they love?
Many unemployed in Zimbabwe when asked what job they want, say “Chero” (any) or “rese-rese” (any type). Some respond with a question, “What job is open?” People do not want to say ‘I want a marketing job’ only to be told that it’s a till operator job is what’s open, or say till operator and be told it’s a shelf restacking job and so on. Because then, you miss a chance, to be employed.
Anyway, I was passing through the CBD of Harare around 10 PM and I was starving. There is a KFC that is open till then and unknown to me, there is a Chicken Inn open 24/7 right across from this KFC. As I arrived at the KFC, I had to figure out parking because parking was packed there is a building across from this KFC that is said to be a weird black ops site. Here parking is reserved 24/7 if you can imagine. (Those who understand Harare CBD parking get the idea.) To deter violators, there was a Mercedes Benz SUV clamped in front of this building so I quickly backed out of the spot I had stolen and tried to wait for a spot to open up by the KFC Joina City building. A spot did open up and I parked my car. As I disembarked a little voice called to me, “Rasta, ndakatarisa mota” (Rasta I am looking after the car while you are gone.) A little boy clad in black and looking like he had not showered for no more than a day or two was walking towards me on the pavement. I chuckled in disbelief. These are the words unofficial CBD “parking assistants” use to get paid sometimes for simply being by the road when you park. At times, these parking assistants control traffic and even stop someone from taking a spot, which they have reserved for their ‘client’. A client who usually now has to pay the city parking fee and the assistant parking fee.
I chuckled and we entered a negotiation as I pointed out that they had not done anything to help me find a parking spot. Also, I was going into KFC and could mind my own car from inside what with the huge glass walls. I was trying to wiggle out of owing him a dollar. The boy kept imploring “rasta” to see him “Ndioneiwo Rasta.” Finally, I asked him how old he was, and he said he was 8 years old. Outspoken, confident, and a hustler, this little boy was streetwise at 8. I was impressed and stopped my haggling. I had to respect the hustle in this little man. He deserved his dollar. A few moments later, two cars bumped into each other. One backed out of a parking spot and the other turned into our parking area. I felt grateful that I would pay the “8-year-old parking assistant” so that when we backed out he would direct us and watch for cross traffic. That’s exactly what I did when I was leaving and I safely navigated out of the parking spot and out of the CBD.
I wonder though, what it looks like for these kids and other youth. It’s tough out here and though the country is recovering. There are still people who have not begun to enjoy the benefits of the positive changes. It feels like the featured image, which has become an inside joke in my circles. The country made a “Life Ong Promise” to the people. It’s up to you to choose if it’s “Long” or “Wrong” or you can keep it “ong” for “ong’s” sake.
Cheers and thank you as always for your continued support.