Confessions of a Zimbabwean legal alien: Part 1.

JOHANNESBURG - In my early years, which I shall not reveal here lest I somehow give away my maturity or lack thereof, growing up in Zimbabwe, I used to attempt to imagine what my country would be like in 2010. Then, as a young and rather ambitious student, I saw in my mind, a rather well developed economy with a formidable infrastructure and industrial base led and managed by some of the most educated and competent blacks Africa has to offer. I imagined a country created under the image of equality and justice as I reasoned that that was the sole objective of the inconvenient war between blacks and whites that was raging then.
As I went about my schooling, which has turned out to be my saving grace, I never understood why black foreigners, especially Zambians then, had to travel across the borders and do their shopping In Zimbabwe as Zimbabweans now do, when they arrive here in their droves with their pockets bulging with soiled United States dollars that are soon spent on gadgets and clothing bought in Sandton, Eastgate or the CBD for those that have the inclination of being streetwise and thrifty.
What is the matter with these Zambians- I used to ponder, what country on this earth cannot feed its own nor produce the goods and services consumed by most? I used to see Ghanaians, Nigerians and South Africans, those that you call aliens here, enjoying themselves in my country. I, like most of us did with interest, watched in awe at their decadence and their good fortune as they enjoyed the pleasures that none of us as students had yet experienced. I would then quietly promise myself that as sure as the sun sets, one day I would also be like that in my own country, for what right did they possess to enjoy the freedoms of my motherland which I could not? This sentiment, by the way was not only unique to me but was the general feeling amongst those of us who had the misfortune of witnessing their ostentatious social lifestyle and enthusiasm in competing with us in capturing the charms of our fellow female students who were then easily attracted by all things bling including the wild parties to which we were seldom invited.
I was indeed a proud educated and capable black Zimbabwean whose time surely would come especially now that I heard that the erstwhile colonialists had at last given up their exclusivity to those privileges our fathers never tasted. Those that had been in the bush and returned to our Empire as kings, were going about their business of building the country and watching over our future interests with such focus and seriousness. We condemned colonialist and imperialist for having denied us such opportunity and pleasures in our own land. God had surely heard our cries and delivered us unto Canaan.
I, as any ambitious child would do, could not wait to grow up and be counted as a leader in my own country and give back, so to speak , that which I had gained from it. After all our leaders had sacrificed their lives and  my intention was not to disappoint by not taking advantage of this advantageous environment they had created  in order to afford me,  as an indigenous Zimbabwean , the opportunities that came with the end of political dependence. The future was so bright and so full of promise that I could smell the reality of my earlier imagination. I was truly made for my time and it never occurred to me that it would be a grand illusion.
Yes there was racism in my country; I have my years at an all white private school to prove that. The majority of my school mates were white farmers' offspring who saw no difference between us and the labourers at their farms. What bothers me is that we began to accept in our minds that we were truly the fortunate few, unlike most, to be schooled and exposed to western values and lifestyle. Where else could we gain such advantage over our peers in the townships who went to government schools? We lived amongst the offspring of our fathers' masters and began to think like them, talk like them, be like them for it meant and held a promise for a higher station in life. Despite the advantages of a rather advanced education that was thorough and of a world standard, the racism, overt and covert has left me to believe that Africa will never be really rid of it.
However, all that ended with independence in 1980 as it became obvious to most whites that continued disrespect of one's political masters could have severe economic consequences. Racism did not disappear overnight, as it will not here. But its overt expression was limited to private conversations mainly in the so called country clubs where most white folk frequented to drown their sorrows and deny the new reality of a black government and reminisce about times past. Many waiters will tell you tales of how abusive the colonial whites were. After independence, racism was also rife within private sector particularly as my experience within an auditing firm can attest to that. By design white articled clerks would be fast tracked and receive more exposure than most of us, and one could soon be reporting to a white "manager" who joined the firm years after one's acceptance. That was the nature of the beast and still is now in some auditing firms with such big names here in South Africa. The struggle must continue.
And so were my years in Zimbabwe as I packed my bags to venture into the land of milk and honey where you get bridges where there is no river, for that is how the highways here in South Africa were described by some who had had the opportunity to travel across the border.
After all dreams do come true do they not?
In part two, I shall pleasure the reader with life in Mzansi as a Zimbabwean legal "alien" and the challenges and opportunities there from.
*Vince Musewe is an independent Zimbabwean economist based in South Africa. You may contact him on vtmusewe@gmail.com