Why Zimbabwe government should be scared Zim Standard sundayopinion by Dennise Kilma Who is this child next to my window, and what is that in his hand?
“, I asked; the reply was curt, and to the point: “That’s a street kid. He is holding sawdust because he may end up eating it due to hunger.” This brief exchange of words took place between myself (an American exchange student currently studying in South Africa) and a good friend (a Zimbabwean studying at the same university in South Africa). Having been granted a one-week Easter Holiday, the opportunity arose to join my friend, with his family, staying in his house located in a low-density suburb in Harare. This is an account – the writing intended to be as truthful and open as possible – documenting the perspective of a 20-year-old American traveller – spending seven enigmatic days in Zimbabwe. Hitch-hiking to Harare (sitting down behind the truck-driver’s seat, for 11 hours, seated next to 11 people) was one of the most memorable experiences of my life; the pain and numbness in my buttocks subsided after a couple of hours, and my presence as “the American” was eventually discovered,
