Grace Mutandwa

Maybe Santa will visit Zimbabwe next Christmas

At 23:38hrs on the last Saturday before Christmas I finally walked out of the Spar supermarket in my neighbourhood. The shop had looked like a bomb sight.

Trolleys laden with people's wishlists (goods that never made it to the checkout) littered the sprawling shop. I riffled through some of the trolleys just out of curiosity. One kilogramme bags of sugar, packets of salt, exotic ciders, cans of imported beer, defrosting chickens and a turkey or two in one case, all left because money had run out.

The shop was seething with masses of people. It was almost like during past Christmas periods when Zimbabweans shopped till they dropped. The currency of the so called imperialists ruled. I saw people pull out wads of American dollars and British pounds.
Our neighbours, the South Africans have also given us a currency that makes better sense than our own Zimbabwean dollars. The Rand has also joined the various currencies we now trade in. Still even with seemingly so much money in sight, people were shopping very carefully.

I shopped with my mobile phone ringing all the time - my daughter calling to remind me of something else needed at home. I have always made Christmas special for  my children but have always tried to be careful not to turn it into a material holiday only. This year my children wanted to do something special for their cousins and our maid's children.

They went shopping using the allowance that they would have used to buy each other presents. They decided to give others. My daughter baked a chocolate cake, the only cake she can bake, so her cousins could have something special.

I have gone around preparing for Christmas in a distracted way. I have felt depressed and am finding it very hard to get into the spirit of Christmas. The office organised a staff Christmas party but this year was just too hard for me to go out and be merry. We certainly need breaks like that but at times it is very difficult to raise a smile, to forget for a while that things out there are getting worse or even to try and ignore that there is nothing merry about this year's Christmas. I did not attend the office party for I was too sad and was worried my sadness would spoil it for others.

So I am trudging along buying this or that, ticking the boxes to ensure that those few relatives I can help will at least have one decent meal on the day Jesus Christ was born.

I am not only struggling with the whole idea of celebrating Christmas I am struggling with my faith too. I am not sure I am still a believer. Too much pain has passed through the country this year. There is too much sadness, insecurity, fear and almost absolutely no hope for a future.

While those in the low density suburbs are trying to shop their hearts out, across the capital my cousins in the high density suburbs have given me a running commentary of how they are trying to string together bits and pieces to have a semblance of a Christmas lunch.

Over the past few years I have tried to co-ordinate through the office a collection of sorts to donate to the less fortunate. Last year we managed clothes, maize meal and soft drinks for families of some prisoners. This year was very difficult so we
were only able to donate a few clothes given mostly by colleagues from the United Kingdom who visited Zimbabwe early in the year.

When a colleague Blessing Seke and I visited Emerald Hill School for the Deaf and Orphanage, to donate the clothes we wished we had been able to do more. The children are always grateful for everything they receive and the nuns who run the school
and orphanage are amazing. In the face of all these hardships they still hang on to hope. They are true believers.

The staff at emerald Hill are truly blessed and full of warmth and love. This year Christmas will not be full of good cheer for them and most Zimbabweans. Some will starve and others will die of cholera. I wish I could write a story full of cheer but this Christmas it is not possible. All I can say is that I hope all Zimbabwean parents can give their children a better Christmas next year. Maybe God will remember Zimbabwe next year. Enjoy your Christmas if you can.

Posted at 08:59 24 December 2008 by Grace Mutandwa  |  Comments[2]