The recent xenophobic violence in South Africa has caused a mass exodus of migrants from the country, including to Zimbabwe. The protests organised by March and March and Operation Dudula, two outfits pushing an anti-immigrant line, have resulted in fear and intimidation, with vigilante groups executing rough justice on those who they claim to be undocumented foreign nationals. The June 30 deadline they set for people to leave passed off relatively peacefully with some big marches across the country, but the attacks continue and a humanitarian crisis builds at the border. Meanwhile, the government condemns the violence, but largely stands by, with many accusations of the police and others being complicit.
The statistics are hard to come by, but it is estimated that over 100,000 Zimbabweans have returned home, over 30,000 on organised buses provided by the Zimbabwe government. But given that there may be upwards of two million Zimbabweans in South Africa, many without official paperwork, this may be only the beginning if the situation continues to deteriorate. Conditions for migrants in South Africa – formal and informal – have not been great for a while, as discussed in a blog on Zimbabwean Uber drivers in Cape Town recently. The antagonism towards foreigners has increased as economic conditions for marginal black South Africans decline, and political players of course fan the flames for their own interests (fingers have been pointed to the MK party and Jacob Zuma, for instance).
Both the xenophobic violence and the exodus of migrants from South Africa have been well documented in the press. But what has happened next? What do those who have returned to Zimbabwe plan to do? How has this experience shaped attitudes towards South Africa? What happens now, when so many workers essential to South African business have left?
What happened to pan-African solidarity?
This pattern of blaming immigrants for economic woes is a common one of course and defines much politics today in Europe and the US for example, but in the southern African context, such anti-immigrant positions are perhaps surprising. Neighbouring countries who provide so much of the migrant labour to South Africa, have long been integrated in a wider migrant labour economy over the last hundred or so years. And in the struggle against apartheid, the frontline states were host to freedom fighters and exiles from South Africa, with such countries supporting the fight for liberation at great cost.
These histories are seemingly being forgotten, with many in Africa asking why should they continue to support South Africa if such an Afrophobic stance is taken? The South African foreign minister, Ronald Lamola, is regularly on the airwaves defending their position, but sympathy is waning. A video of some Zambians outside Oliver Tambo house in Lusaka, where Tambo lived in exile and where ANC exiles gathered, pointedly asked why should Zambia maintain the place as a historical museum if South Africa forgets its struggle history?
The abandonment of solidarity has economic impacts too. Many videos show businesses abandoned across South Africa, perhaps most notably in the border town of Musina, which now looks like a ghost town as Zimbabweans have abandoned the place. Farmers in Limpopo complain that they cannot get labour for farming as their workers have fled. And across the cities, the South African middle classes no longer have cleaners, gardeners, maids and drivers. Economies nearly everywhere rely on migration and the populist rhetoric against foreigners by the likes of Jacinta Ngobese-Zuma, the March and March front person, ring very hollow.
The experiences of returnees in Chikombedzi, southern Zimbabwe
So, what has happened to those who have left? One of our team members, Jacob Mahenehene lives in Chikombedzi in Chiredzi South, right next to the South African border. The economy there has long relied on cross-border trade and remittances from migrants to support what is a marginal agricultural area. Now people have returned en masse. By bus, by foot, on small boats and rafts and with only a few of their belongings. Over the last few weeks, Jacob has been interviewing people about their experiences.
Most returnees are still traumatised about having to leave suddenly, leaving families, belongings, businesses, schools and livelihoods. As one informant explained, “I was working in a shop, but my boss closed the shop when the protests started. Those who stayed open had all their goods taken by the protestors. I left at short notice with my children, with a small handbag only, leaving all my other belongings”. Many pointed to the sudden shift in attitudes as the protest built and the government said it would fine anyone who employed undocumented migrants. One informant commented how their employer’s attitude quickly changed: “He said he would support us, but when they announced large fines on those employing undocumented workers, he said we must leave. He just changed. He said he didn’t want to see us again at my workplace. I left my welding machines and equipment and just left”. South African friends and relatives (many Zimbabweans had married South Africans) initially encouraged people to stay, saying that they would protect them, but this quickly changed as things turned nasty. The violence shocked many, as gangs moved around townships dragging people from their homes and destroying shops and businesses. Even if they did not know what the future would hold, peaceful Zimbabwe seemed a better option.
Many of those who returned home to Chikombedzi had difficult journeys. One informant recalled, “It was dangerous in the townships. The South African police rounded us up and guarded us while we slept outside on football pitches. We then travelled to the border, but the police asked for money. And those who transported us on a boat asked for more. And when we got to Zimbabwe, we had to pay the soldiers. It was a tough time”. Those who arrived home often had nowhere to live. They had left years ago; many in the period of economic collapse in the mid-2000s. Their original homes were in ruins; they had no land and many of their assets that they used to make a living had been left behind. One informant commented, “We have to rebuild. We cannot live outside with our belongings”.
In discussions with the returnees, many said that they would go back. They would use their connections to get the right papers, and return. They saw no future in Zimbabwe given the state of the economy. And, in any case, over years South Africa had become home. Their kids were in the education system there, they had friends and they had learned to navigate the system. But they didn’t know when it would be possible. Discussions about the future have caused major rifts within families. Very often women were reluctant to leave South Africa as they had not experienced the violence directly. They accused their husbands of being cowards wanting to come home. In one case, the husband packed his things at night and gave his wife an ultimatum. Eventually she joined him on the journey home, but she wants to return quickly. She says it’s impossible to live in Zimbabwe. She is encouraging her husband to mould bricks to sell so that they can get enough money to return. But returning legally is challenging. Several informants explained that they did not have effective IDs, and many were queuing up at district offices seeking documents, applying for passports and trying to get papers for their way back.
Others wanted to stay in Zimbabwe. The traumas suffered should never be repeated and imposed on their families ever again, they argued. They would make a go of being in Zimbabwe, despite the difficulties. At least it was home and was peaceful. One informant already had plans. He had identified an area near the river for a garden; he would buy some irrigation equipment and would get going with farming. Others had kept their kids in Zimbabwean education either at home or in South Africa and so could more easily slot back in. They were happy to be home and would start anew with support from relatives this side. Many parents said that they were relieved that their children were back home having watched the unfolding horrors on their phones. Some sons who had long been in South Africa appeared unannounced. They had previously lost touch. One 28 year-old informant reflected that he now felt really guilty that he just disappeared – not even attending the funeral of his father in 2018. Now he has back, with nothing. He left everything, he says. South Africa was his home, but his friends, even his girlfriend, turned on him. He regrets not keeping connections with home, but he is now busy clearing land for farming. “I want to work hard in Zimbabwe, and without fear unlike the attacks in South Africa”, he said. “Luckily my mother and family have welcomed me home, but I really regret neglecting them”, he explained.
The Zimbabwe government has been encouraging repatriations, arguing that the return of skills can be good for the economy. This may be true in the long term, but in places like Chikombedzi the Zimbabwean economy is so deeply tied to neighbouring countries so imagining a world with out cross-border trade and economic migration is impossible. Those who made business from this are now really suffering. A woman who is usually based near Harare and sells pots and other kitchen equipment in the big markets of the Chikombedzi area was distraught. “I have lost my business… there is no one now wanting to buy. The money [from South African remittances] is no longer there”. As in Musina, the economy that was supported by movement, remittances and cross-border connections has suddenly evaporated, with devastating consequences.
What next?
Xenophobic violence in South Africa is not new, but this episode has been worse than before when the ‘rainbow nation’ seemed once again to be fracturing. Exclusion and violence is a recurrent experience for those from across the continent living precarious lives in South Africa. Yet it is these very immigrants of course who help drive the economy and contribute massively to South Africa’s success despite being widely resented.
If South Africa isolates itself, economically and politically, responding to anti-immigrant sentiment and caving in to the naïve populist rhetoric of March and March, Dudula and the rest, the future of the region will inevitably be reshaped, and South Africa will surely decline. This will be disastrous for people living in places like Chikombedzi but also for the wider region, where talk of integration, cooperation and solidarity were once the political currency on which post-liberation southern Africa was built.
This post was written by Ian Scoones and first appeared on Zimbabweland.
Reporting and photos from Chikombedzi by Jacob Mahenehene.