Zebras Never Die

1. Leaving Johannesburg Gura Dube was now in his early forties. He was a much leaner and hungry-looking man than days gone by. He dragged the two large grocery bags on either side of his six-foot frame to edge nearer the check-in counter for cross-border buses leaving Johannesburg, the psychedelic commercial capital of Azania. He had the return stub of the ticket purchased in Harare, a peaceful town and the capital city of the Republic of Zimbabwe, one thousand miles to the north of Azania, where he lived with his wife, their two small children, his late brother’s teenage son and his youngest sister who had just finished school in their rural home and was seeking employment in Harare's continually declining opportunity environment. To the uninitiated observer, that much grocery, belonging as it did to one passenger, would certainly portray an impression of someone erring on the side of overabundance of caution in “stocking” for a rainy day. Going back home to Zimbabwe from Azania was always a relief, having gone through the tribulations of the inbound journey, especially the harassment by Azania immigration and customs officials who extort bribes from the struggling Bajwe. Parting with one’s hard earned foreign currency for no value whatsoever was always a distressful experience that Bajwe, the people of Zimbabwe, appeared not to be able to escape from. Irrespective of the legal status of an individual’s official documentation, the Azania immigration and customs officers squeezed an “entry” bribe from all foreigners making their way through the border with the Zimbabwe Republic. This irregular and “shadow” tolling is well known to the government authorities of Azania. They have deployed and redeployed officials on a rotational basis in different border posts around the country and, within each border post, redeployed officials across different departments in order to diffuse practices of extortion. This has failed dismally on account of the sense of entitlement being an integral part of the pervasive culture of corruption in Azania. The impunity with which the immigration officials abuse African visitors to the country defies any attempts at institution of best practices in corporate governance and managerial controls. Most officials in Azania (including high ranking politicians) and a significant proportion of the general population find little intrinsic value in rules and regulations. People abide by the law in order to avoid “trouble”. Where there is little likelihood of being caught or, alternatively, where there are minimal adverse consequences in breaking the law, Azanians will take “route 1”. The latter is colloquial for “short cut”. In order to reverse the morass, the government of Azania has, over the years, introduced progressively tougher enforcement tactics and penalties. These will likely yield modest success in the reduction corrupt practices and, even less success, in internalisation of social values and norms that cherish universal welfare of mankind as an end that is desirable in its own right. The lack of a moral compass at the top contributes in no small measure to the situation. It is against this backdrop of dissipation and increasingly belligerent shadow excises by officials that makes going back home to Zimbabwe a most welcome relief for shoppers like Gura. Given a choice, none of the Bajwe in Gura’s queue would have travelled to Azania. This is not the life they would have chosen for themselves. The curse of chronic shortage of food and other essential goods for sustenance in Zimbabwe has been foisted upon them by a bankrupt regime back home.