Anecdotes about township life

Recently some loved ones lost a sister, who was just discovered lying dead in her apartment. She had not complained of an ailment and didn’t do drugs or anything like that. The family was very distressed over what could have happened to her and pinned their hopes on results from the post mortem. Unfortunately the post mortem results were inconclusive, so the family will always wonder what happened to their loved one…

Commenting on this, one of my friends said, “That’s the UK for you, most anti-social country I have ever seen. And if you don’t network, might be a year or more before anyone even notices you are dead. If you are a casual worker, no one will raise the alarm that you’re missing. They will just think you got another job.” That is really quite sad. I was raised in a high density suburb, and a thing like that would never happen. Neighbours are always a stone’s throw away and always keep an eye on the goings-on next door. In my post All about my recent visit to Zimbabwe, I mentioned how communal life is in the area that I was raised. Neighbours actually talk to each other. You don’t get out of your gate and not meet one of the neighbours. If you are sick, they will know about it, because they will ask if you’re OK.

Children playing on the street in Rusape, Zimbabwe

Everybody knows everyone, including their occupation and denomination. Sometimes your occupation would be used as a surname. When I was a child, I remember there was Mbuya Ruredzo Mustawara (Gran Ruredzo the Watchtower. She was actually Jehovah’s Witness but people had their own way of addressing her.) Then there was Smart Mbavha (Smart the thief), and Lizzy Muhure (Lizzy the prostitute). There were times when we got first-time visitors. All they needed to do was get off the bus, approach the nearest vendor and ask if they knew were my family lived. They would immediately be pointed in the right direction. Try doing that at Bree or Manzini rank and you will immediately become laughing stock. Life in “the suburbs” is hostile.  I got new neighbours about five months ago and I don’t even know their faces. I just know their car, which I see driving past my house every day.

My friend Erica said she missed people just rocking up on your doorstep without making appointments, which is almost unheard of now among people of my generation. They expect their parents to let them know in advance that they plan to visit. A mere neighbour doesn’t stand a chance.

There was never a lack of entertainment in the township. News spread like veld fire in the township. It would get really hectic if the news wasn’t so positive for your family, because it spread faster than the funeral ones. If your child got arrested or pregnant, or if your husband was sleeping with some known prostitute, everyone would know. There were many occasions when our parents had to chase us into the house when a prostitute or mistress tore down the street in her birthday suit after being caught in the act by a livid wife who had just arrived from the rural areas. There were also fights between husbands and their wives. I remember our neighbours who always fought and before long the husband would run down the street like a bat out of hell, with the wife in hot pursuit.

Now everyone wants to move away from the high density suburbs because they think staying there is a sign that you have failed in life, you have stagnated. Townships, especially in Zimbabwe, are now associated with filth – inappropriate refuse disposal, rivulets of raw sewage, outbreaks of diarrhoea, noise, and overpopulation.  Back then, things were more orderly and cleaner.

Life was so much safer back then. Now you have to keep your eyes on your child because there sex predators always lurking in the shadows. My husband mentioned how we didn’t really need TV because children could play on the streets until they were dog-tired. Then in the evening they would sleep better than the kids we are raising now. Mine sometimes only fall asleep at 2330 hours!
This is what Ngoni, my friend, had to say about township life: I miss the Ubuntu, the camaraderie and the unity of people. Everyone knows each other, and when you've been away for long and go back home, the whole neighbourhood comes to see you. they want to see how you have changed, what you  would have brought, etc, but in all that curiosity and gossip they do do care about each other."
And care they do! When someone from the neighbourhood dies or loses a loved one, there are women who go around collecting mealie meal and monetary offerings to take to the grieving family. 

I could go on and on about the happenings in the townships and never finish the half of it. Life was good during my time there, and one would certainly not die all alone without anyone noticing for days.