Bulawayo faces surge in street children

The city of Bulawayo is facing a troubling shift in its social landscape, as an increasing number of children living and working on the streets now originate from the city itself - a stark contrast to past trends when most street children came from outlying rural areas and other provinces.

Child protection organisations and social workers are raising the alarm, seeking answers to what is pushing children from local suburbs such as Makokoba, Cowdray Park, Mbundane, Nkulumane, and Burnside onto the streets permanently.

"We used to have children coming from Masvingo, Mutare, Beitbridge, and Binga," said Sikholiwe Ncube, the Bulawayo Provincial Coordinator for Scripture Union Zimbabwe, during a visit organised by the National AIDS Council (NAC). "Now we are seeing children from our own backyards. It's concerning."

The faces on the streets of Bulawayo today reflect a worrying transformation. No longer are they unfamiliar migrants—many of the children are from homes just a few kilometres away, raising difficult questions about the health of the family unit and the socio-economic pressures faced by local communities.

Ncube, who runs the Thuthuka programme for vulnerable children, said they are trying to understand whether the root causes lie in failing parenting, community disintegration, economic hardship or abuse.

Dr Khanyile Mlotshwa, a scholar in Critical Studies, believes the trend signals a broader societal breakdown. "This may be an urban phenomenon where young people seek a living. Nevertheless, the family is clearly in a crisis. When children no longer feel like they belong, they go to the streets and take a shot at life from there," he said.

Bishop Handsome Ncube of Glory Emmaus Ministries International offered another perspective, suggesting that Bulawayo's emergence as a major city is also playing a role.

"Bulawayo is now one of the big regional cities. What we are experiencing is a lot of people searching for economic avenues—including children," he said.

He added that the collapse of the extended family system means fewer safety nets for vulnerable children. "Economic pressures have made guardianship a disappearing concept. People cannot afford to feed extra mouths."

Residents like Emmanuel Sibanda of Emthunzini believe the reasons vary. "Some children are escaping poverty, others abuse, and some are drawn by the idea of freedom or fast cash," he said.

According to Best Ndlovu, a child protection activist with Thuthuka, some children are not yet fully street-based but are transitioning toward that lifestyle. They leave home during the day to beg or work and return at night—a pattern that gradually erodes family ties.

Ncube provided a striking example of this transition. "You'll see the same child in the morning, then later in the afternoon and even at night on the streets. They tell you they'll go home, but they never do. It's a pattern we see often," she said.

Some children start on the streets innocently—perhaps escorting a parent with a disability—and end up seduced by the independence and camaraderie of street life.

"Eventually, the street becomes their habitat. Before long, they move to other cities. We've had children end up in Harare, who were just around Makokoba or Mbundane," Ncube added.

While both boys and girls are affected, the majority of those living on the streets are boys. Some boys, according to Ncube, say they feel less valued at home. "In interviews, they say families prefer girls. Parents may push boys to go out and sell, while girls stay home."

At the heart of efforts to respond to this crisis is Scripture Union's drop-in centre, where children can bathe, eat, do laundry, receive psychosocial support and reconnect with trusted adults.

"That's our entry point. From there, we learn about their stories and figure out how to support them," said Ndlovu. "You might think a child is just being rebellious, but often it's because they need help reconnecting with their family."

Working with the Department of Social Development, Thuthuka has managed to reunify many children with their families. But reunification only works if the root causes—poverty, abuse, school dropout—are addressed.

"We don't just send children back. We work with the families to resolve underlying issues. Some are child-headed households. Some children dropped out of school. We give food hampers, help them get IDs, access BEAM support, and more," Ndlovu explained.

Alarmingly, many children disappear without their communities reporting them missing. "This silence is dangerous. Without missing person reports, we can't act quickly. Children disappear, and no one follows up," Ndlovu said.

Thuthuka's holistic approach includes life skills training, trauma counselling, and peer-to-peer dialogue sessions like "brother-to-brother" and "sister-to-sister" to help youth process difficult experiences and reduce risky behaviour.

Since its launch in 1995, the programme has reached more than 5,000 children, with an annual average of around 170. Many of these children have gone on to become professionals—including teachers, media workers, and even PhD holders.

"We don't name them because we don't want to stigmatise them. But the success stories are there," Ndlovu said.

As Bulawayo grapples with this mounting crisis, social workers are urging the public not to shame or ignore children on the streets. Rather, they call for empathy, action, and a renewed community focus on protecting children before they disappear from their homes and into lives of hardship.

"Giving food to a street child doesn't encourage street life any more than feeding prisoners increases crime," Ndlovu concluded. "It's about reaching their hearts—and giving them hope for something better."