Opinion / Columnist
Zimbabwe's feja-feja economy is unsustainable!
26 Nov 2025 at 11:06hrs |
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Most of us have encountered feja-feja before, that quick, deceptive street game where the eye is easily fooled.
Zimbabwe today survives on improvisation, luck, and illusion.
To directly receive articles from Tendai Ruben Mbofana, please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08
We have normalised crisis to the extent that we no longer recognise how abnormal our everyday existence has become.
No one in their right mind can deny that a nation once celebrated as the "jewel of Africa" has been systematically hollowed out by decades of misrule.
The ruling elite have reduced a proud and industrious people into hustlers, forced to piece together a semblance of survival in an economy that functions only on the surface.
Beneath that thin veneer lies a foundation as fragile as sand - a feja-feja economy, here today, gone tomorrow, and incapable of supporting a modern state.
This collapse did not happen by accident.
It is rooted in catastrophic leadership decisions stretching back more than twenty-five years.
The turning point was Zimbabwe's reckless involvement in the Second Congo War between 1998 and 2003.
By August 2000 alone, government had already blown an estimated US$200 million on the conflict, with earlier calculations placing the cost at about US$3 million per month.
That is money that should have repaired our roads, bridges and dams; upgraded hospitals and schools; strengthened electricity generation; and expanded water supply systems.
Instead, it was poured into a foreign war that had nothing to do with the daily lives of Zimbabweans.
While Zimbabwean troops fought in the DRC, infrastructure back home quietly crumbled.
The government compounded this disaster by printing money to finance wage bills and other expenses it could not afford.
This recklessness set the stage for the hyperinflation of the early to mid-2000s, wiping out pensions, destroying savings, and pushing multinational companies out of the country.
Local firms collapsed under the weight of a currency that evaporated in people's pockets.
This was the genesis of an economic crisis Zimbabwe has never escaped from.
We have simply learnt to live with it, adapt to it, and pretend it is normal.
As I write this article, there is no electricity.
Our home has been without power since around 9 a.m., yet today was not even scheduled for load-shedding.
The onset of the rainy season has triggered a surge in technical faults across the grid - poles collapsing under mild wind, cables snapping during ordinary storms, transformers blowing from a single lightning strike.
This is not a coincidence.
It is the inevitable consequence of an electricity generation and distribution system that is decades old, dangerously overstretched, and starved of investment.
Zimbabwe produces far less power than it needs on a daily basis - a deficit that typically leads to 12 to 16 hours of load-shedding.
But even the little power produced is transmitted through infrastructure held together by hope.
What does it say about a country when a harmless drizzle or gust of wind can plunge entire suburbs into darkness?
What kind of electricity system is this that trembles at every raindrop?
That is what a feja-feja economy looks like: an economy where even the slightest pressure causes systems to collapse because they were never built to last.
In many countries, electricity infrastructure has been modernised to withstand weather hazards, vandalism, and even theft; substations are protected, lines buried, and grids upgraded.
Zimbabwe, meanwhile, still relies on equipment installed half a century ago.
But the feja-feja economy extends far beyond electricity.
Every day, thousands of Zimbabweans buy groceries, fuel their cars, pay school fees, or send money to parents.
To the untrained eye, this activity resembles a functioning economy.
Shops are open.
Cars move.
Vendors sell.
Banks operate.
Yet almost all these transactions depend on a foreign currency - chiefly the United States dollar - because Zimbabwe has completely failed to sustain a currency of its own.
Over the past two decades, we have had six different currencies, each collapsing under the weight of inflation, corruption, and lack of public trust.
The latest reincarnation, the ZiG, is already rejected by ordinary citizens and exists largely on paper.
Banks barely disburse it and ATMs hardly ever dispense it.
This leads to absurd situations where a simple purchase of bread and milk requires juggling three different currencies.
You pay with a US$2 note for goods worth US$1.50.
The cashier gives you ZAR10 or ZiG20 as change, or maybe a cocktail of ZiG10 and ZAR5.
And we claim to have an economy?
This is not normal.
This is not functional.
This is a circus dressed up as commerce.
Because the formal economy collapsed years ago, Zimbabweans survive through what young people call "kungwavhangwavha" - hustling.
Selling chickens, vegetables, second-hand clothes, airtime, groceries.
Touting at bus ranks.
Digging for gold.
Renting out rooms.
Doing hair and nails.
Running flea markets.
Small, precarious income streams keep families afloat in the absence of stable jobs, proper wages, or predictable incomes.
Yet the political elite point to this mass hustle as evidence of resilience or entrepreneurship.
It is not.
It is evidence of collapse.
A society cannot thrive on hustling.
An economy dominated by survivalist trade is one heartbeat away from disaster.
Zimbabwe's leaders comfort themselves with the superficial normalcy they see on the streets.
Cars are moving.
Shops are open.
People are buying and selling.
Therefore, they conclude, the economy is "recovering."
But all they see are the feja-feja symptoms of a deeply broken system.
The fact that people are surviving does not mean the country is functioning.
Those termites quietly eating away at the beams of a house do not announce themselves.
The house may look intact from outside, but one day the rotten trusses will snap and the entire roof will collapse.
That is where Zimbabwe stands today.
One day, the six ageing generators at Hwange Power Station - already decades beyond their intended lifespan - will fail permanently.
One day, the overburdened electricity grid will collapse under a storm it can no longer withstand.
One day, the informal economy will fail to absorb a population where nearly everyone is selling the same few items - eggs, vegetables, clothing, groceries, chickens.
One day, access to the US dollar may tighten, exposing a country that has placed all its faith in a currency it does not control.
One day, the illusion will break.
Zimbabwe's feja-feja economy is not development.
It is not recovery.
It is improvisation masquerading as progress, a fragile scaffold of hustles, patch-ups, and illusions.
And like all things built on sand, it will not stand forever.
Unless there is honest leadership, real investment, and a complete overhaul of the foundations of this country, Zimbabwe's collapse is not a matter of if - but when.
© Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com, or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/
Zimbabwe today survives on improvisation, luck, and illusion.
To directly receive articles from Tendai Ruben Mbofana, please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08
We have normalised crisis to the extent that we no longer recognise how abnormal our everyday existence has become.
No one in their right mind can deny that a nation once celebrated as the "jewel of Africa" has been systematically hollowed out by decades of misrule.
The ruling elite have reduced a proud and industrious people into hustlers, forced to piece together a semblance of survival in an economy that functions only on the surface.
Beneath that thin veneer lies a foundation as fragile as sand - a feja-feja economy, here today, gone tomorrow, and incapable of supporting a modern state.
This collapse did not happen by accident.
It is rooted in catastrophic leadership decisions stretching back more than twenty-five years.
The turning point was Zimbabwe's reckless involvement in the Second Congo War between 1998 and 2003.
By August 2000 alone, government had already blown an estimated US$200 million on the conflict, with earlier calculations placing the cost at about US$3 million per month.
That is money that should have repaired our roads, bridges and dams; upgraded hospitals and schools; strengthened electricity generation; and expanded water supply systems.
Instead, it was poured into a foreign war that had nothing to do with the daily lives of Zimbabweans.
While Zimbabwean troops fought in the DRC, infrastructure back home quietly crumbled.
The government compounded this disaster by printing money to finance wage bills and other expenses it could not afford.
This recklessness set the stage for the hyperinflation of the early to mid-2000s, wiping out pensions, destroying savings, and pushing multinational companies out of the country.
Local firms collapsed under the weight of a currency that evaporated in people's pockets.
This was the genesis of an economic crisis Zimbabwe has never escaped from.
We have simply learnt to live with it, adapt to it, and pretend it is normal.
As I write this article, there is no electricity.
Our home has been without power since around 9 a.m., yet today was not even scheduled for load-shedding.
The onset of the rainy season has triggered a surge in technical faults across the grid - poles collapsing under mild wind, cables snapping during ordinary storms, transformers blowing from a single lightning strike.
This is not a coincidence.
It is the inevitable consequence of an electricity generation and distribution system that is decades old, dangerously overstretched, and starved of investment.
Zimbabwe produces far less power than it needs on a daily basis - a deficit that typically leads to 12 to 16 hours of load-shedding.
But even the little power produced is transmitted through infrastructure held together by hope.
What does it say about a country when a harmless drizzle or gust of wind can plunge entire suburbs into darkness?
What kind of electricity system is this that trembles at every raindrop?
That is what a feja-feja economy looks like: an economy where even the slightest pressure causes systems to collapse because they were never built to last.
In many countries, electricity infrastructure has been modernised to withstand weather hazards, vandalism, and even theft; substations are protected, lines buried, and grids upgraded.
Zimbabwe, meanwhile, still relies on equipment installed half a century ago.
But the feja-feja economy extends far beyond electricity.
Every day, thousands of Zimbabweans buy groceries, fuel their cars, pay school fees, or send money to parents.
To the untrained eye, this activity resembles a functioning economy.
Shops are open.
Cars move.
Vendors sell.
Banks operate.
Yet almost all these transactions depend on a foreign currency - chiefly the United States dollar - because Zimbabwe has completely failed to sustain a currency of its own.
Over the past two decades, we have had six different currencies, each collapsing under the weight of inflation, corruption, and lack of public trust.
The latest reincarnation, the ZiG, is already rejected by ordinary citizens and exists largely on paper.
Banks barely disburse it and ATMs hardly ever dispense it.
This leads to absurd situations where a simple purchase of bread and milk requires juggling three different currencies.
You pay with a US$2 note for goods worth US$1.50.
The cashier gives you ZAR10 or ZiG20 as change, or maybe a cocktail of ZiG10 and ZAR5.
And we claim to have an economy?
This is not normal.
This is not functional.
This is a circus dressed up as commerce.
Because the formal economy collapsed years ago, Zimbabweans survive through what young people call "kungwavhangwavha" - hustling.
Selling chickens, vegetables, second-hand clothes, airtime, groceries.
Touting at bus ranks.
Digging for gold.
Renting out rooms.
Doing hair and nails.
Running flea markets.
Small, precarious income streams keep families afloat in the absence of stable jobs, proper wages, or predictable incomes.
Yet the political elite point to this mass hustle as evidence of resilience or entrepreneurship.
It is not.
It is evidence of collapse.
A society cannot thrive on hustling.
An economy dominated by survivalist trade is one heartbeat away from disaster.
Zimbabwe's leaders comfort themselves with the superficial normalcy they see on the streets.
Cars are moving.
Shops are open.
People are buying and selling.
Therefore, they conclude, the economy is "recovering."
But all they see are the feja-feja symptoms of a deeply broken system.
The fact that people are surviving does not mean the country is functioning.
Those termites quietly eating away at the beams of a house do not announce themselves.
The house may look intact from outside, but one day the rotten trusses will snap and the entire roof will collapse.
That is where Zimbabwe stands today.
One day, the six ageing generators at Hwange Power Station - already decades beyond their intended lifespan - will fail permanently.
One day, the overburdened electricity grid will collapse under a storm it can no longer withstand.
One day, the informal economy will fail to absorb a population where nearly everyone is selling the same few items - eggs, vegetables, clothing, groceries, chickens.
One day, access to the US dollar may tighten, exposing a country that has placed all its faith in a currency it does not control.
One day, the illusion will break.
Zimbabwe's feja-feja economy is not development.
It is not recovery.
It is improvisation masquerading as progress, a fragile scaffold of hustles, patch-ups, and illusions.
And like all things built on sand, it will not stand forever.
Unless there is honest leadership, real investment, and a complete overhaul of the foundations of this country, Zimbabwe's collapse is not a matter of if - but when.
© Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com, or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/
Source - Tendai Ruben Mbofana
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