PASSOP, Part I - The Context: Zimbabwean Migration to South Africa

Zimbabwean man crossing into South Africa naked

It’s been over three months since I started working at the human rights and refugee advocacy non-profit organisation PASSOP (People Against Suffering, Oppression and Poverty) and it’s about time I write down some of my impressions. It’s been a fascinating and challenging experience so far and one from which I am continuously learning. This post is the first of three about PASSOP. This first one sets the context to the work that PASSOP does by outlining Zimbabwean migration to South Africa and the xenophobic tensions that are pervasive here. 

PASSOP’s constituency is primarily the many Zimbabweans currently living in South Africa (although we often work with Congolese, Somalis, Mozambicans etc. too). Many of them are undocumented, or in the country ‘illegally’.  This makes them one of the most marginalised groups in South Africa and makes them particularly vulnerable to exploitation and discrimination, which they are often subjected to in the form of being forced to accept lower wages or paying higher rent, for example.  Sometimes, however, they also become the victims of xenophobic abuse and violence.  PASSOP actively engages both Zimbabwean and South African communities in various townships to resolve labour disputes and documentation issues and to try to pre-empt xenophobia tensions.

At a PASSOP protest: speaking out against injustice

My colleagues at PASSOP are mostly from Zimbabwe.  Just like all the people PASSOP works for, they too have fled the disastrous economy and hostile political environment in their home country (more about my colleagues in Part III). Zimbabwe used to be known as the bread basket of Africa; President Robert Mugabe was once respected as one of the most progressive African independence leaders as high school enrollment rates increased from just 2%  to 70% in his first ten years in office from 1980 to 1990.  At the time Zimbabweans were the most educated, productive and independent populace in Southern Africa.  All of that is no more.

Sign at South African border post

A steady and painful decline that began in the mid-1990s has left Zimbabwe today as a crippled and weak shadow of its former self.  The decline was accelerated in 2000 when Mugabe’s party started forcefully redistributing commercial agricultural land owned by white farmers.  As more and more white farmers were forced to flee, most of the country’s farms became unproductive and the country’s agricultural production, which had made up over half of the country’s foreign income, plummeted. This precipitated the collapse of the economy. Inflation reached historically unprecedented levels to such an extent that a one billion Zimbabwean dollar bill was not enough to buy a roll of toilet paper. Only 10 % of the population was formally employed and the life expectancy dropped from 61 years in 1991 to only 34 years fifteen years later in 2006.  To add to the misery, the political situation turned violent in 2008, when after contested elections hundreds of opposition supporters were killed and thousands detained.

The result was that many ordinary Zimbabweans had no other chance but to emigrate.  Most fled to South Africa, where it is estimated that around 1.5 million (or 25% of Zimbabwe’s labour force) currently live and work to be able to earn a livelihood for their families at home.  A migration on such a scale is unprecedented in a country that is not at war. Having such large numbers of Zimbabweans living and working in South Africa aggravates many South Africans who blame them for taking their jobs. There is some truth to this, since unemployment in South Africa is at an impressive 25% and because Zimbabweans are not only usually better educated than South Africans, but also extremely hard-working, they often manage to find jobs more easily.

Angry mob of South Africans chasing foreigners out of township

The lack of employment, as well as the generally low quality of services available to poor South Africans, coupled with a long-standing and widespread belief amongst South Africans that South Africa is somehow  superior to other African countries, xenophobia often rears its ugly head. In 2008, xenophobic violence erupted in townships all across the country that left dozens dead and tens of thousands displaced. Despite leading to heavy national and international condemnation, xenophobic violence has since broken out a handful of times more, albeit on a smaller scale.

Burning down the shacks of foreigners

How can a people that only 16 years ago freed itself from the oppressive shackles of the appalling Apartheid system have turned so quickly into the oppressors? Where does the hatred towards their African brothers and sisters come from? Is it because the wounds of decades of Apartheid have not yet healed properly? Probably... but it is also largely because South Africans too often forget that their Zimbabwean, and Congolese, and Somali brothers and sisters are not in South Africa out of choice, but out of necessity. Most simply cannot find a means to feed their children unless they migrate south of the border. They love their home countries just as much as anyone, but in most cases, they have no choice but to leave. Failing to understand this, many bigoted South Africans are quick to blame their own woes on others and point the finger at the ‘foreigners’. This must end - there must be more empathy, more humility and more love. 

PASSOP works towards achieving this goal. Beyond fighting against xenophobia, we are also lobbying strongly against the South African government’s plan to begin deporting Zimbabweans again later this year. Although the record-breaking inflation rates have normalised since the Zimbabwean currency was scrapped last year and there is some sense of calm following a power-sharing agreement between the two main political parties, ZANU-PF and MDC, unemployment is still at over 80% and many opposition supporters still fear for their lives. With elections looming in a few months, the intimidation tactics have already begun as Mugabe and his ruling ZANU-PF party are looking more defiant than ever. This will surely bring a swift end to the current calm.  Deporting Zimbabweans back to a place where they face starvation, fear and violence is foolhardy and irresponsible, at best.

A look back at 2010 – Part 2: The Fairytale Wedding

Growing up my parents often moved from one country to another – by the time I was 9 I was living in my fifth country, which inevitably meant that friends came and went into my life. My 11-month older brother and my one year younger sister therefore naturally became my closest friends. The only other two kids that also played a constant role in my life growing up were my two cousins, Jan and Lea. The five of us became very close and they have always been more like siblings to me than cousins. 

The good old days

So when, at the tender age of 25, my cousin Jan got married this summer to beautiful Khairin in an unbelievable four-day fairytale wedding in Malaysia, the first of the five made a huge step towards becoming an adult. Growing up, Jan was a year older, always at least one head taller and a considerable amount more level-headed than the rest of us, so it was always going to be him who tied the knot first. But no matter how long you anticipate something happening, when it eventually does, you can still be taken by surprise and wonder where all the years since your childhood have gone.

The bride

Seeing how close we were growing up, it was two of life’s coincidences that brought Khairin and Jan together, and I am happy to have been a part of both.  The first time they met was at our house in Cuba in 2004. Khairin and her family were our neighbours in Havana and Jan was visiting us for Christmas. The second time was two years later in Belgium.  Khairin and her family were again living in the same city and Jan was again visiting us, when he heard that she was also in Brussels at the time. He followed his gut feeling and decided that he had to see Khairin again and so he called her up and we all went out for a drink. That’s how their love story began. 

The young couple

The wedding this summer was surreal. Following the customs of a Malaysian Muslim wedding, there were four different nights of celebrations, each with a different purpose. The first was for the bride’s female family members to bid her ‘farewell’ through prayer and singing. The bride’s and groom’s hands are decorated with henna. The second was the signing of the marriage contract, or Akad Nikah, which was presided over by a Kadhi, or religious official. The night following the Akad Nikah was the Bersanding, or enthronement ceremony. The bride and groom are treated like royalty: the groom was led in by a procession of us family and friends, alongside musicians and traditional Malaysian warriors. The main part of the third night was the bridal couple sitting together and relatives, friends and guests coming and sprinkling them with yellow rice and scented water as a sign of blessing. The fourth and last night was a dinner, reception and celebration.  

Bersanding ceremony

Each night Jan and Khairin wore different clothes. Khairin wore beautiful dresses and jewellery worth a small car while Jan wore silk robes, a Sultan-like headdress and a dagger, of course. With each consecutive night, the number of guests increased. From 100 to 300, to 600, to 1000 on the last night. That’s not an exaggeration...one thousand people actually attended the dinner and celebrations on the last night in one of Kuala Lumpur’s finest hotels. Among them was the country’s Sultan, Foreign Minister and a host of other celebrities, dignitaries and ambassadors. In other words, the who’s who of Malaysia was at this wedding while Jan and Khairin sat on a throne in the midst of it all. The 25 or so German family and friends that travelled to Malaysia were driven to each evening’s celebration in a bus that was escorted by police officers on motorbikes. Their job was to wave and guide us through Kuala Lumpur’s rush hour traffic. We all felt a bit like celebrities. 

There were countless customs that made the wedding so magical, especially to my inexperienced eyes.  It was all new to us – like Jan having to wash his hands, feet and neck right before going to be married by the Imam, to enter into the new bond cleansed of his past. Or each family presenting a number of gifts to the other family, as a sign of respect and strengthening the new ties. Or even that each guest received a decorated hard-boiled egg, as a sign of future fertility.

All Ze Germans with the couple

So the wedding between Jan and Khairin was very special in that it didn’t just bring together two people, or two families, but two different cultures... and my family is much richer now because of it.  The integrating of two cultures is what a family friend of Khairin, and guest of honour at the wedding, the famous Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf (the Imam who was at the centre of the plans for the Mosque close to Ground Zero in NYC), who works tirelessly to build bridges between the West and the Muslim world, spoke of so eloquently at the wedding. Bridging the divide between these two cultures is undoubtedly one of the most important challenges of the 21^st century. The world needs more love stories like that of Jan and Khairin.

A look back at 2010 – Part 1: The Snakebite

2010 was a memorable year, to say the least. I spent it living in Cape Town, in my parent’s beautiful house by the beach, together with my brother Yanis, my sister Stella, and three of my best friends, Simon, Robin and Brandon. All the while, we had a steady stream of our closest friends from around the world come visit and stay with us. I know it sounds like the dream set-up... and it was.



Our local beach in Noordhoek.

All the ‘family dinners’, the countless surf sessions, the memorable adventures and trips, the month-long World Cup craziness, and everything in between; it’s no surprise Cape Town is my favourite place in the world. (I will write more about my life in Cape Town in a post soon). In 2010 I also finished a Masters degree in Applied Development Economics and started working at a human rights non-profit organisation. To top it all off, I went off on a two-month trip to South East Asia and Hawaii in the middle of the year.

In many ways, 2010 was also year in which I took big steps towards growing up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still the same impatient, adrenaline-driven and surf-obsessed guy I was 12 months ago. But a few significant things happened this year that have pushed me forwards. Watching my cousin, who’s like a brother to me, getting married in a surreal wedding in Malaysia was one. Another was to finally make the move from being a student to the working world. I’ll write about those in the next post – in this one I want to write about one thing in particular.  

The most intense thing to happen in 2010 was undoubtedly when my girlfriend Kelsi got bitten by a poisonous snake whilst on a hike with me close to my house. It happened in early February, when she was living with me in Cape Town for three months doing an internship at an NGO.

Chapman's Peak - the mountain where Kelsi got bitten.

The fat puff adder was so well camouflaged that neither of us saw it until it was too late. It bit Kelsi in the ankle, blood immediately started trickling down from the two small fang marks and she went into shock. I rushed her to the emergency room – I knew it was serious because snakes in Africa are no joke, but I had no idea just how serious. Puff adders are responsible for the most fatalities out of any snake in Africa and the anti-venom is not readily administered because it often leads to very serious allergic reactions. Hence, after at first being cautious and opposed to injecting her with the necessary anti-venom, the doctors revised their decision after watching her leg swell up to twice its size in a few hours.

Swelling after 24 hours.

Her swelling was so significant that it was blocking the blood flow to her calves and feet and amputation was becoming a realistic threat.  Luckily the anti-venom worked immediately, first slowing and then stopping the swelling, without any serious side-effects. Despite that, the leg was already so big that for the next three days a vascular surgeon kept visiting her in the ICU to see whether surgery would be needed. All in all she spent 8 days in hospital, 6 of which in the intensive care unit.

Chilling in the ICU - Day 5

Then began a long and arduous recovery process. The snake’s so-called cytotoxic venom works by breaking down muscle tissue and cells, and so Kelsi had lost a good part of her leg’s muscle tissue.  It was only after a month and lots of hours of physiotherapy later before she was able to take her first step again.

Bruising - 1 week after bite.

The experience was tough for me in many ways... The helplessness I felt when we got to the hospital and the doctors explained how serious the situation was. The pressure that first day and night of being all alone while she was in and out of consciousness and her parents were on the other side of the world. Having to explain to her parents on the phone what had happened and telling them they needed to fly down right away because the doctors said that her leg might be amputated. Yet all of that was fleeting...what lasted and what I still have to confront sometimes now are my feelings of guilt...why did I take her up that path, why did the snake bite her and not me, and how did I fail to protect her?

I guess the reason why I am able to write about it so openly now is because the story is one with a happy ending. Although the leg still swells up and sometimes hurts when on her feet all day, she was recently able to go on her first run again.

Back out and about.

So above all, this is a story of Kelsi’s remarkable resilience and positive attitude throughout the whole ordeal. Not once did she show fear or doubt that she would make a full recovery even while the doctors were piling on the scary news. Not once did she complain of having to sleep with leg suspended up at 45 degrees for six weeks after leaving the hospital; or about having to lay in bed for weeks while sun was shining outside, or about the painful physiotherapy she needed to be able to retrain her leg muscles to stand straight and walk. Quite the opposite, she was positive and smiling the whole time.

It is her attitude that not only got her healthy again and helped me to overcome many of my feelings of guilt, but also allowed us to grow and learn from this whole experience. It taught us to not to let the little things in life worry or stress us out.