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No welcome, no let-up
The Economist
August 09, 2007

http://www.economist.com/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9621694

ON A dirt road in Weipe, a farming area in South Africa on the banks of the Limpopo river about 60km (37 miles) west of the busy Beitbridge border post, a few cars are waiting. Unemployed South Africans try to make a bit of money driving Zimbabweans—either locally employed or freshly arrived from across the river—wherever they want to go. But business is hard, as many new immigrants have no money. And there is also the risk of being arrested by the police for transporting people without visas.

When a police car duly arrives, the few bystanders hoping for a ride quickly vanish into the bush. Two friendly policemen stop the vehicles driving past, checking the passengers' papers. Six illegal Zimbabweans are picked up and ushered into the police car. They will be driven to the military base south of Musina, the nearby town, and deported within 24 hours.

Nick van der Vyver, who heads the office of the Geneva-based International Organisation for Migration on the Zimbabwean side of Beitbridge, says that so far this year an average of about 570 deported Zimbabweans cross his threshold every day. The figure is higher than last year's, and is probably far smaller than the number of those who do not get caught. Of those who do, most will probably be back on the South African side of the border within a few days; sealing over 200km of border is almost impossible. They add to the thousands who cross legally, in both directions.

The numbers say much about the desperation and determination of the impoverished Zimbabweans fleeing a country that is collapsing around them. Over 3m Zimbabweans are thought to have left their homeland (out of a population of 13m), most of them for South Africa. It is there that many already have friends or relations and where the economic opportunities are presumed to be best. But these emigrants are now causing problems far beyond the border.

At this time of year the Limpopo is dry, making it easy to cross by foot. But in the rainy season Zimbabweans dreaming of a better life drown in the surging waters, or are occasionally killed by crocodiles. Almost as dangerous are those who offer to help them cross for money: they often rob them blind or worse.

And crossing the border is only the beginning of their problems. Once they are in South Africa, making a living is hard. Some find jobs on farms, with minimum monthly salaries of about 1,000 rand ($142): not much, but still more than ten times a teacher's salary in Zimbabwe at the unofficial exchange rate. Many professionals, unable to survive at home with 80% unemployment, inflation heading for 100,000% (according to the IMF) and severe shortages of basic items such as meat, sugar and cooking oil, are also coming over. An association of Zimbabwean teachers in Johannesburg tries to help its 3,500 members with papers, professional certification, advice and jobs. Doctor Ncube, the chairman, believes there are over 10,000 Zimbabwean teachers in South Africa.

Limkani, who once taught in a secondary school in Matabeleland, hauled boxes in a warehouse for 75 rand a day when he came to South Africa in 2005. Another high-school teacher speaks of the one-bedroom flat he shares with seven others. His work permit means he is among the lucky ones. But he is struggling to win certification as a teacher in South Africa: he needs a letter from the Zimbabwean authorities, which say they have no stationery.

Many cannot even afford housing. In central Johannesburg the Methodist church has become a refuge for about 1,000 people, most of them Zimbabweans. At night the building bursts with people sleeping on every inch of floor; all must share just six lavatories. A Zimbabwean salesman has been living there for about a year. He finds occasional jobs as a security guard for 70 rand a day. Like most Zimbabweans in South Africa, he sends groceries and money home to his wife and children whenever he can.

The vast majority leave Zimbabwe because they cannot make ends meet. But some are escaping political persecution. Pianos, a 43-year-old official of the opposition Movement for Democratic Change (MDC), shows multiple scars on his face, legs and knees from the beatings he says he received from the police and pro-government youth militia. He fled after an opposition gathering on March 11th, during which MDC leaders were arrested and later beaten up. He is now hoping to obtain political asylum. But, even if successful, this will take years—and his wife and four of his children remain in Zimbabwe.

Many Zimbabweans say they will go back if things improve at home. In the meantime, though, Zimbabwe is losing its people and South Africa has a problem on its hands. With an unemployment rate of 26%, or closer to 40% by some measures, it can hardly absorb the flow. Some locals feel that Zimbabweans are competing for scarce jobs and adding to the crime rate, although there is no hard evidence to support this. The opposition Democratic Alliance wants refugee camps set up; the government disagrees, saying that most Zimbabweans are economic migrants, not refugees.

South Africa's government has been heavily criticised for not doing more to hasten the end of President Robert Mugabe's disastrous regime. One of its excuses for not pushing harder has been fear of precipitating a crisis in Zimbabwe that would adversely affect South Africa. But it is hard to escape the conclusion that the damage is already being done.

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