Waking up to Harare
It’s getting more and more difficult to wake up each morning. I think about the Z$500 I got at the bank yesterday. It wont buy me much. I think about the amount of money left in my account. It won’t last a week. I’m thinking of quitting my job (I hope my boss doesn’t read this- but I don’t think he will because he’s really afraid of computers). Maybe it’s time I also left Zimbabwe.
Like this morning, I was feelng so demotivated. What is there to live for? I work so hard but I have to borrow money just so I can get to work. This is hopeless.
Harare is relentless in its demands upon me. Money for transport. Money for food. Energy for work. Words for the hwindi. Words for my boss. Relentless.
Boyfie, who left two months ago for Botswana, hasn’t emailed or called. I was hoping so much on him but now even he takes on diabolical proportions in my dreams of a better life.
What to do? TJ says I should be positive, but he’s never been to Zim. He doesn’t know how stubborn the situation is, how hungry we all are and how fed up I am of being positive while I chew on sadza and plain vegetables.
But I will go and queue again at the ATM and hope it will spit out some US dollars for me. I have my fingers crossed. That’s what hope is about is it not?
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