News / National
Zimbabwean youths struggle for survival
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For many young Zimbabweans, the daily grind is no longer about climbing corporate ladders or pursuing dream careers. Instead, it has become a delicate balance between hustling for meager earnings and the constant pressure of supporting friends and family in a crumbling economy. This pressure has given rise to a phenomenon known in street lingo as "ghetto tax" or "siya something wangu chero dollar," which loosely translates to "just give us even a dollar."
The "ghetto tax" reflects the realities of Zimbabwe's ailing economy. Years of mismanagement and corruption have resulted in high inflation, limited job opportunities, and widespread poverty. Young people, who make up a significant portion of the population, are particularly affected by these harsh conditions.
Tinashe Munemo, a 31-year-old fuel attendant from Harare's Waterfalls suburb, represents the struggle many face. Every time he is about to go home after work, he encounters a familiar challenge. His bus stop is at Mandaza shops, a popular gathering point for unemployed friends who survive by begging for a few dollars. "At my workplace, they give us US$2 every day for transport, but I usually use US$1 per day. When I meet a friend who is struggling to buy even a weekly WhatsApp bundle, sometimes I give them the remaining US$1," Munemo said.
Munemo emphasized that regardless of whether someone is a graduate or not, the pressure to help others remains the same. "The only problem is that our friends who see you going to work always think we are getting paid huge amounts, and for that reason, they expect you to give them money," he explained. He added that in the "ghetto," it is often seen as a lack of empathy if one refuses to share with others who are struggling. Munemo, who earns US$250 per month, has his own expenses to manage, including US$150 in rent, a wife, and a child. Yet, he feels compelled to help, especially those who are graduates but remain unemployed.
While Munemo's experience with "ghetto tax" is informal, it reflects a broader social obligation within communities. Many young Zimbabweans rely on the generosity of those with stable incomes, often resorting to micro-loans from institutions like ZimLoan, which offer small, quick loans as low as US$9. However, this cycle is not a sustainable solution, as it only provides temporary relief.
The phenomenon is echoed in Bulawayo, where 28-year-old Mqondisi Khumalo, a Political Science graduate, shares a similar frustration. "Even though I am a graduate, I usually bother my childhood friend Mthabisi Ndlovu to buy me data, even though his salary is barely enough to cover his transport and rent," Khumalo said. His story is a reflection of the harsh reality faced by many youths in Zimbabwe, who, despite their education, remain trapped in unemployment and poverty.
Ndlovu's sentiments echo the plight of countless young Zimbabweans who feel helpless, caught in a cycle of dependency where those with the smallest incomes are expected to support a network of unemployed friends and family. Statistics from the Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency (ZimStat) reveal that only 46.3% of Zimbabwe's working-age population is employed, further exacerbating the challenges faced by the youth.
Thomas Chauke, a retired primary school teacher, told The Standard that the lack of economic opportunities is putting a strain on relationships. "They understand the need to support each other, but the constant pressure can be overwhelming," Chauke said. "It creates a sense of guilt and resentment, even among close friends. We need real opportunities, not just handouts."
Economist Gift Mugano explained that the youth find themselves in a catch-22 situation. Some have lost hope in finding meaningful employment and view a university degree as futile in the current economic climate. According to Mugano, there are two categories of youth: those hustling in the informal sector, regardless of their academic qualifications, and those whose depression has led them to give up.
Veteran talk show host Rebbeca Chisamba, also known as Mai Chisamba, acknowledged that some youths have developed an unhealthy culture of constantly asking for financial assistance from their friends. "Changova chijairira kupemha" (It has become a bad norm to beg), she said. "It's embarrassing to see the young generation surviving by bothering their friends in the name of 'ghetto tax.'" Chisamba believes that while times are tough, begging for handouts is not sustainable. "Youths can use their hands or other innovative ideas to survive without waiting for money," she said.
Dexter Malinganiso, a member of the Parliamentary portfolio committee on public service, labor, and social welfare, noted that while there has not been a specific agenda focused on the welfare of youth, there have been advocacy efforts for budget increases to improve social programs, which may indirectly benefit young people in need.
Despite these efforts, the weight of responsibility continues to fall heavily on those fortunate enough to have some form of employment. They are the lifelines for their families and communities, but even their modest earnings are often insufficient to escape the grips of poverty. The "ghetto tax" may provide short-term relief, but it underscores a deeper crisis in Zimbabwe's economy, one that urgently requires systemic change and sustainable job creation for the youth.
The "ghetto tax" reflects the realities of Zimbabwe's ailing economy. Years of mismanagement and corruption have resulted in high inflation, limited job opportunities, and widespread poverty. Young people, who make up a significant portion of the population, are particularly affected by these harsh conditions.
Tinashe Munemo, a 31-year-old fuel attendant from Harare's Waterfalls suburb, represents the struggle many face. Every time he is about to go home after work, he encounters a familiar challenge. His bus stop is at Mandaza shops, a popular gathering point for unemployed friends who survive by begging for a few dollars. "At my workplace, they give us US$2 every day for transport, but I usually use US$1 per day. When I meet a friend who is struggling to buy even a weekly WhatsApp bundle, sometimes I give them the remaining US$1," Munemo said.
Munemo emphasized that regardless of whether someone is a graduate or not, the pressure to help others remains the same. "The only problem is that our friends who see you going to work always think we are getting paid huge amounts, and for that reason, they expect you to give them money," he explained. He added that in the "ghetto," it is often seen as a lack of empathy if one refuses to share with others who are struggling. Munemo, who earns US$250 per month, has his own expenses to manage, including US$150 in rent, a wife, and a child. Yet, he feels compelled to help, especially those who are graduates but remain unemployed.
While Munemo's experience with "ghetto tax" is informal, it reflects a broader social obligation within communities. Many young Zimbabweans rely on the generosity of those with stable incomes, often resorting to micro-loans from institutions like ZimLoan, which offer small, quick loans as low as US$9. However, this cycle is not a sustainable solution, as it only provides temporary relief.
The phenomenon is echoed in Bulawayo, where 28-year-old Mqondisi Khumalo, a Political Science graduate, shares a similar frustration. "Even though I am a graduate, I usually bother my childhood friend Mthabisi Ndlovu to buy me data, even though his salary is barely enough to cover his transport and rent," Khumalo said. His story is a reflection of the harsh reality faced by many youths in Zimbabwe, who, despite their education, remain trapped in unemployment and poverty.
Thomas Chauke, a retired primary school teacher, told The Standard that the lack of economic opportunities is putting a strain on relationships. "They understand the need to support each other, but the constant pressure can be overwhelming," Chauke said. "It creates a sense of guilt and resentment, even among close friends. We need real opportunities, not just handouts."
Economist Gift Mugano explained that the youth find themselves in a catch-22 situation. Some have lost hope in finding meaningful employment and view a university degree as futile in the current economic climate. According to Mugano, there are two categories of youth: those hustling in the informal sector, regardless of their academic qualifications, and those whose depression has led them to give up.
Veteran talk show host Rebbeca Chisamba, also known as Mai Chisamba, acknowledged that some youths have developed an unhealthy culture of constantly asking for financial assistance from their friends. "Changova chijairira kupemha" (It has become a bad norm to beg), she said. "It's embarrassing to see the young generation surviving by bothering their friends in the name of 'ghetto tax.'" Chisamba believes that while times are tough, begging for handouts is not sustainable. "Youths can use their hands or other innovative ideas to survive without waiting for money," she said.
Dexter Malinganiso, a member of the Parliamentary portfolio committee on public service, labor, and social welfare, noted that while there has not been a specific agenda focused on the welfare of youth, there have been advocacy efforts for budget increases to improve social programs, which may indirectly benefit young people in need.
Despite these efforts, the weight of responsibility continues to fall heavily on those fortunate enough to have some form of employment. They are the lifelines for their families and communities, but even their modest earnings are often insufficient to escape the grips of poverty. The "ghetto tax" may provide short-term relief, but it underscores a deeper crisis in Zimbabwe's economy, one that urgently requires systemic change and sustainable job creation for the youth.
Source - the standard
