Ruth Weiss ‘Visit to Mbuya or Zimbabwe Today’
A short story by Ruth Weiss (2013) – Prologue R. Schäfer
At the beginning of 2025 – 45 years after political independence – it is also clear that Zimbabwe’s citizens have to cope with many of the everyday burdens caused by the dilapidated infrastructure. Massive corruption led to electricity and water supplies collapsing again and again. For a few weeks now, even the drinking water in Harare has been contaminated with germs.
However, like his predecessor Robert Mugabe, President Emmerson Mnangagwa relies only on repression, violence and harassment instead of solving the structural problems that are paralyzing the economy and endangering people’s health. That is why these impressions of everyday life written by Ruth Weiss in 2013 continue to be revealing.
Visit to Mbuya or Zimbabwe today (2013)
Amos Kgugi was happy to be able to visit Amai (his mother) after a three-year stay in Berlin. On his first day at home, he walked from the bathroom to the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his hips to ask why there was no water coming out of the shower.
To his astonishment, Amai Amos handled a bundle of US dollar bills and a pile of envelopes at the kitchen table, in which she put dollar bills and then wrote on them.
“Amai! What are you doing?”
She didn’t look up, because she was counting something.
“Let’s go to your Mbuya (grandmother) later,” she finally answered.
“Yes, but – why do you bring her so many envelopes of dollars?” Amos wanted to know.
Amai Amos clicked his tongue impatiently.
“Boy, this is not for Mbuyu. I’ve already put something aside for them.”
Amos saw his mother write No. 7a on the last envelope before she taped it shut.
“7a?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes, I don’t think it will be more. Humph. Or maybe it is?”
She took another envelope and began to stuff dollar bills into it again and write 8 on it, before she pulled out another envelope and labeled it 8b.
“So. That should be enough,” Amai Amos indicated.
“For what?” Amos wanted to know.
“For the roadblocks. When you are stopped. Spot fines. This is to plug holes in the roads, I mean, to repair them,” Amai explained patiently.
“Yes – but – what do you have to pay a fine for? I mean, you know your car is okay or not—side lights, brakes, spare tires, and stuff.” Amos didn’t really understand that. “And I think you’re hardly going to go too fast. Or overtake someone illegally…”
“Sure, my car is fine. I know that. But the police don’t know that and think they have to check it. In any case, I have come up with a system. I have two envelopes ready for each roadblock. Then you can continue driving faster.” “Why two?” For Amos, the system remained mysterious.
“There are always several police officers on duty. By the way, did you bring me a fire extinguisher, which I asked you to do? Good. Sometimes they come up with new ideas. Last week they wanted to see the fire extinguishers in every car. If you didn’t have something like that with you, you had to pay a fine. Is everything clear to read? Yesterday someone had to pay a fine because an inscription was not legible. You – I hope he’s not from China? They don’t recognize it.”
“Why not?”
“Because you can buy something like that here. They want something that doesn’t exist here. Then they can take penalties better,” Amai explained.
“Eight times two envelopes? You mean we’ll be stopped eight times? Mbuya’s village is only about 150 kilometers from here! If we are stopped eight times, that means that every 20 kilometers…”
Amai put the envelopes in her large travel bag. “That’s why Mbuya knows that we’ll arrive when we’re there. So, now give me the packages of candles from the drawer.”
“Candles? Mbuya has electricity!”
“But not the electricity company. They also have financial problems. The ruling class cannot pay its debts, it is said; over a million, the president and his family, the poor ones, are in arrears with over 300,000 US$ for their farm business. If you’re lucky, you’ll be awake at night, when sometimes the electricity comes by chance. Then you can turn on the washing machine.”
Shaking his head, Amos opened a drawer, with numerous sweets rolling onto the floor. As he picked it all up, he said, “I didn’t know you liked chewing gum and those poisonous green candies so much.”
“What?” Amai Amos was wrapping up the candles she had taken from another drawer. “Oh, nobody wants to eat them. That’s small change. You know, because of the US dollar. There are no cents as change. Only sweets.”
No, Amos hadn’t expected that. Even though he knew that the Zim$ had been abolished and the US$ had been introduced – because of hyperinflation and so on.
He was about to ask what happened to the water when Amai stared at Amos and said, “You’re not dressed yet. Didn’t you see the little jug of water? You can use it to wash your face and brush your teeth. That’s all there is this morning. Water is currently scarce. Maybe there’ll be water in the village.”
Amos came back to the kitchen, where a cup of tea was waiting for him. Amai jumped up and shouted, “Oh, I forgot something.”
Amos knew that Amai had already packed a suitcase and had food for Mbuya. That’s why he was amazed at what she packed: fresh laundry, warm scarf, bandages, toilet paper, plus oranges, chocolate, cheese and a loaf of bread.
“Is anyone else coming along?” Amos wanted to know.
“No, no – but by mistake you insult the president and before you can say sorry, you’re behind bars. Without anything,” Amai Amos pointed out.
When everything was stowed away, Amai tugged at Amos on a board. Amos pushed it aside, straightened the board and leaned it against the wall. “What do you want with the board?”
“We have to go to the gas station.”
That didn’t seem to Amos to be an explanation. “Should I perhaps pay with a board?”
“Are you a comedian or what? No. A pipe burst there, it’s really disgusting – stinks like the plague – I’d rather put the board over it. Last week when I was refueling, I almost slipped.”
“Last week? Then they have long since repaired it.”
Amai put her hands on her hips and laughed. “This is Mugabe country. Where do you think you are? In Berlin, perhaps?”
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*Mbuya – Grandmother
**Amai – Mothe