‘A chance to build a life. A real life.’
On my first visit to Zimbabwe’s refugee camp, I wanted to see how the World Food Programme (WFP) has been helping refugees keep hope alive
Zimbabwe is beautiful. I didn’t know what to expect when I first moved here from the United States almost one year ago. I’ve been to several different parts of the country, but I have to admit the East is my favourite. Something about mountains. Something about driving out of Harare, away from the city, and then seeing those incredible rock formations, massive boulders piled like a giant’s version of fairy cairns eventually turning into lumpy granite ranges. Nothing like the sleek, sharp peaks from back home — just as likely though to be shrouded in mist as bathed in sunlight.
Something else I didn’t expect was to be visiting a refugee camp. Until I started this job, I didn’t know there were refugees in Zimbabwe, or anywhere in Southern Africa, if I think about it. You think about refugees from Syria and Yemen, Honduras, the Congo, about the #RohingyaCrisis — desperate people fleeing war and violence and tragedy, seeking safety, seeking sanctuary.
You think about what you see on the news.
You don’t think about Zimbabwe. Or at least, I didn’t.
But here I was, driving three hours east to the mountain-pass town of Mutare, then a further three hours south, to Tongogara Refugee Camp (TRC), where WFP last month supported more than 11,000 refugees with food assistance.
The refugees come from various parts of Southern Africa: hundreds of people taking flight each month from Mozambique, Burundi, Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). Families and individuals. Men and women. Young and old. They come to TRC looking for shelter, food, a place to rest, a place to wait, maybe a place to start a new life. I came to meet them, to witness how the work we do has a positive impact on the lives of the most vulnerable people. I’d been reading all the reports; I wanted to see.
The Government of Zimbabwe hosts the camp, offering space and safety, while UNHCR (with help from UNICEF and other partners) manages the services, including water and education. WFP provides the food — as it has for more than a decade.
Thanks to the generosity of China Aid and the US Department of State’s Bureau of Population, Refugees, and Migration, WFP is able to give food or cash to every family at the camp — some of the most vulnerable people in the region.
For new arrivals — those who have been at the camp three months or less — that assistance comes in the form of actual food. Everyone else gets US$13 per person per month, enough to meet their daily needs. People who have been suffering from illness for a long time are also given specialized nutritious food to help them quickly recover their strength and health.
I met Samael while she was waiting in line at the warehouse. She had recently arrived from Burundi, along with her family. Though very shy, she was proud to show me her SCOPE card. Her mother sent her to secure the family’s food entitlement.
All transfers at TRC are managed on SCOPE, an online platform WFP uses to register people for food and nutrition programmes and track distributions of assistance. Everyone on the platform has their own card and password. This helps make sure that everybody gets the right amount of food or money. The food Samael’s family receives helps her stay focused in the classes she attends in the camp’s schools. Now in grade 5, Samael likes to study Shona, one of Zimbabwe’s main languages.
My next stop was the market area. Those who receive cash can shop at the various stalls for the food or other items they need. Cash assistance has the benefit of giving refugees choice, letting each decide what their families need the most.
The market also helps integrate the refugees with the local host community. Sensing an opportunity, farmers from the surrounding areas bring their produce to sell. Because cash distributions were happening today, one vendor assured me that the local farmers would soon come with fresh fruits, vegetables, grains and meat to sell. The interaction helps create social bonds, bringing the different communities closer together. It turns out that grocery shopping is a good way to realize we’re not so different after all.
Looking for something cold to drink on the sweltering day, I stepped into a shop and met Martin from Rwanda, who has lived in TRC since 2005. He has seven children, he told me, and they all like to help in the shop. The importance of having a purpose — of building a life for himself and his family, even after more than 12 years in a refugee camp — was clear. I took his photo, and thought about my purpose.
Besides providing food assistance, WFP has also begun to pilot projects to help people move beyond assistance and build skills and a source of steady income with our partner, GOAL Zimbabwe. Projects like nutrition gardens, goat keeping and poultry huts are on the list; funds from WFP went to the purchase of indigenous chickens, the GOAL representative explained to me, because they’re “stronger.”
They’re building hutches for keeping and breeding 150 rabbits, and will give the offspring to other families to keep at home. They’re also supporting 100 pig farmers, and a new prototype of sty. This was one of the most exciting projects, clearly; camp residents had seen the success of participants in the piggery project, and so contributed some of their own money to invest in this next step.
One message I received again and again as I spoke with residents was the need for work, the need to do something. These are men and women who left careers and lives behind, for the the safety and security of themselves and their families. Some try to find odd jobs in repairs or construction. Others hire themselves out as farmhands — when there’s work, if there’s work. They are not willing to be defined as ‘refugees’, to let their status become the sum of their parts.
The same goes for their children. They’re determined to build a future for their children. Mwajuma, 18, fled the DRC almost three years ago, arriving at TRC in December 2016. Her family of 14 lives in three tents supplied by UNHCR in a section reserved for other recent arrivals from the DRC. The family is happy to be safe, her father said, happy for the assistance they receive; but it is not enough. They need work, he told me and my colleague, insistent — “a chance to build a real life.”
Mwajuma is trying to do just that. She’s in school for the first time in years and studying to become a nurse — though she admitted, smiling, that her favourite subject is English.
And as we drove to another area, I was sidelined by a group of schoolboys headed home from morning classes, bursting with energy and ready for lunch — but not so hungry that they didn’t have time for a photo.
One of the phrases that has stuck with me in the last several years of the global refugee crisis is the idea of a “lost generation.” That these years of conflict, displacement, hunger and trauma are costing hundreds of thousands of children the opportunity to grow and thrive. That’s what these parents are worried about. That’s what we’re all, in our different ways, trying to prevent.
And that’s why I left feeling positive. The assistance we provide is supporting food and nutrition security for more than 11,000 refugees. Children can go to school with a mind and body that’s fueled to learn. Our joint efforts with UN agencies, donors and our other partners are working to build a better community. And we’re working with the Government of Zimbabwe to explore more options for these refugees, who all just want a brighter future.
And isn’t that what we all want, after all?
