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Once upon a christmas in Zimbabwe
Marko Phiri
November 14, 2005

Zimbabweans face another bleak Christmas this year, the worst they have ever seen no doubt, during the nation's six years of recession. A time of good cheer each year when even poor families exchanged gifts, so much has changed here. The coming of Christmas is no longer as eagerly awaited as it was a few years ago before the country's economy took a very bad turn. So much has changed here ever since the politics of patronage became fashionable.

The Nativity, as others would call it, has always been attached to new clothes for the kids, food rarely seen on dinner tables, and the general mood was always one of neighbours reaching out to each other. It is not an exaggeration that all this goodwill was unconsciously extended without deliberately attaching religious meaning to it, but the whole idea that this spirit became manifest during this season was a pointer of the Christian faith seemingly being a part of the people's lives here.

Time was when the economy still could absorb school leavers as soon as they turned their backs on the "prison" gates, and those who flunked took it in a stride seeing they were already gainfully employed. But events in the past few years have taken away all this and more. Today, this season of goodwill no longer means new clothes for the children, families no longer bake cakes which were shared over fences with neighbours. Rice, chicken and that favourite African salad, coleslaw, have disappeared as the hard times bite into the gaping pockets of millions here. Absurd prices haunt anyone who walks into a supermarket and it has become virtually impossible to budget for anything as each month brings with it new prices. A 5 kilos of rice sells for over half a million dollars (at least at the time of writing!), simple modest shoes - not the type which have the wearer seemingly levitating - for a ten year old child cost a million dollars. Who can afford that with a monthly salary of two million dollars?

Teachers, yesteryear professionals respected by whole neighbourhoods but today the butt of many cruel jokes, take home a little over $2 mililion when the Consumer Council of Zimbabwe says a family needs roughly $12 million per month just for basic commodities, clothes excluded. So what kind of Christmas are teachers having this year when their salaries cannot even buy a pair of shoes? And still not to mention everybody else whose meagre wages are not national news.

The sad stories are too numerous here, and it's a wonder really the country's psychiatrists have not come out with a damning report about how men, women and children are losing a few screws and going bonkers because of the depression engendered by the hard times. What brings tears to many here is that they have been deprived of the nicer things in life by a government that has distanced itself from the people it claims elected it to power, a government whose arrogance has even the God-fearing entertaining unwholesome thoughts about death, and still not theirs. Food shortages persist as the year draws to a close, and salt remains scare. So, what is Christmas without salt, or bread, or sugar or meat or flour or fuel or. Father Christmas or Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer - at least for those children who believe in Santa leaving gifts in the chimney?

Now, how do the perenially broke parents explain this to these young minds who are oblivious of the hardships and expect a perfect Christmas? Beasts like goats were a permanent feature during this season, and a good number of families put this into their November budgets seeing this is the month they got their thirteenth cheques. This would be shared among friends and relatives, and it was considered very normal. This was a time when children not only got new clothes for Christmas, but also for the new year. Every 25th of December and 1st of January, it was expected that every child would wear new clothes. Those who did not dared not cross the neighbourhood streets as the jeering came fast and cruel. How so much has changed in the five or six years of economic insanity, and somebody still blames that old time favourite fall guy the Devil. Blame Old Nick for everything and all ends well. Tell it to our children who have never heard about Old Nick but know damn well Santa Claus won't be bringing them gifts this Christmas! Today a goat costs more than a million dollars. And anyone who can indulge in the luxury regrets the day when they have to send children to school in the first term of the new year and find that they spent money they didn't have.

Time was when Christmas saw families decorating their houses and living rooms with balloons, and Christmas lights with flashes of green, red, yellow and left children mesmerised. Now who can spend money on balloons when there is no bread on the table? Can you eat balloons? Time was when retail shops had a resident Santa Claus who entertained children, gave them free toys and sweets, and each year brought the children the best Christmas of their lives. Time was when families with strong rural roots made it tradition that this season was spent closer to nature among the mountains back in their rural home.

A whole family would make the trip and only be seen in the new year with great stories to tell about how they celebrated the birth of Christ. Today, it would be the super rich who can afford to take the whole family to their rural home for Christmas. A one way trip to some rural areas can cost anything up to a million dollars. And in Zimbabwe, families are known to have anything between six to ten members. Now how much would somebody earn to make that trip with his or her family? But the fuel shortage still does offer some consolation during this season. If we may indulge in a bit of syllogism, the shortage of fuel could mean less cars on the road, therefore less road carnage! And for the lager louts, well, binge drinking will appear only as a poignant dream. The favoured drink of these young folks, the highly lethal spirits will soon become the envy of their peers as the price seems determined to turn these boys into teetotalers. So what is the Birth of Christ without drinking yourself silly? Christmas in Zimbabwe sure ain't what it used to be.

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