Tag Archives: livelihoods

Mining and agriculture: diversified livelihoods in rural Zimbabwe


Easther Chigumira has recently published an excellent paper in The Journal of Rural Studies, Political ecology of agrarian transformation: The nexus of mining and agriculture in Sanyati District, Zimbabwe. It’s well worth a read if you can get past the pay-wall. Here is a quick overview of some of the highlights.

The paper aims “to examine the process and expression of re-peasantization in Zimbabwe through a 10-year on-the-ground study into the lived experiences of land recipients from three resettled communities in Sanyati District (formerly Kadoma District)”. Based on intensive, engaged field research, the paper is full of fascinating insights, particularly around the links between agriculture and mining.

The study adopted a political ecology approach and “explores the day-to-day practices of land recipients, the meanings they attach to land, and reasons for particular land use activities and livelihood strategies. It argues that a more localized approach that looks at the interlinked themes of people, their livelihoods and their relationship with the physical environment, rather than solely focusing on economic indicators and productivity, provides an understanding of the processes and expressions of re-peasantization, and essentially the nexus of mining and agriculture since the FTLRP.”

This wider scope of analysis is important and revealing. While it’s true many of us have focused on production, and the associated class dynamics, a wider appreciation of what people are doing and why is important, especially in order to get a sense of the diverse livelihoods – including artisanal small-scale mining (ASM) – that people are pursuing and how these change over time.

In this paper, insights are enhanced by the longitudinal nature of the study, with surveys in 2004/05 (soon after settlement), 2009 (after several years of extreme economic crisis) and 2012/13 (in a relatively stable period). The study encompassed two A1 settlement sites (a villagised and self-contained) and one A2 site. The paper offers a number of significant conclusions, highly relevant to on-going debates about Zimbabwe’s new agrarian landscape.

Settlers come from diverse origins, around half originally from urban areas, the other half from rural areas. While initially land invasions did not appear to be directly linked to party affiliation, access to land in later years, particularly around the 2008 elections, linkages with ZANU-PF became more important, particularly for young people requiring land. An emergent patronage system evolved, requiring people to at least ‘perform’ being party members. This was most prominent in the A1 villagised area, reflecting the particular patterns of land allocation and local politics, as young people demanding land were slotted in around election time. But patronage was not the whole story, and the empirical data suggests a more nuanced story than others have offered for other sites.

As observed in many studies, processes of differentiation are on-going, as some accumulate and others struggle. A distinct grouping of ‘rich’, ‘middle’ and ‘poor’ farmers is observed in the area, with distinctions becoming greater over time. Crop outputs are highly unequal, for example, with higher outputs overall from A1 farmers, as the medium-scale A2 farms suffered serious capital constraints. Production varied over time due in part to rainfall, but also to the economic situation, affecting availability of inputs, with a big dip in 2007-08 at the peak of the crisis.

Overall, there has been a significant investment in new assets and improved infrastructure on people’s farms; something we’ve seen across our sites. “There has been a significant accumulation of assets linked to farm production, as well as non-productive assets by the first group of settlers. This group of farmers all own small productive assets such as hoes, axes, picks and shovels, while 41% now own ox carts, ploughs and cultivators, and 14% had bought tractors. An increase in the number and quality of dwellings in the community was also observed. Fifty-nine percent of the first group of settlers had upgraded their dwellings from mud and pole to brick with thatch roofing and/or brick with asbestos or corrugated iron roofing. In the 2004/5 survey sample there were no toilet structures in the community but in 2012/13, almost two thirds of these households had constructed ablution facilities in the form of Blair toilets or pit latrines on their property. Further investments included cell phones, bicycles, solar panels, radios and televisions. The increase in livestock ownership was another indicator of asset accumulation.”

Many settlers have diversified livelihoods (‘pluriactivity’), and this has grown over time. Small-scale mining in particular has become important, as a complement to agricultural production. This was especially so when the economic crisis deepened and the gold price increased. The paper argues that “the commonly held view that non-agricultural activities such as ASM are an indicator of de-peasantization/de-agrarianization is flawed…. Instead, the study “provides evidence that context specific realities need to be considered, because ASM can also be an integral part of re-peasantization”. Mining in the area is a year-round activity, with important gender divisions of labour. Men engage year-round, while women are more seasonal miners, focusing on agriculture in the cropping season. In some cases, settlers employ others to help, generating a new labour economy in the area.

A range of off-farm labouring jobs are pursued. The extent of these have grown too. They include: In 2004/05, most ‘maricho’ (piecework) activities were carried out by women alongside former farm workers, but increasingly men are involved too, as a local labour market grows, responding to demands from more successful agricultural producers in the area. The later settlers (post 2008) in particular were especially reliant on this source of labour based income.

Investment has also occurred beyond the farm, and this accelerated particularly post dollarization. Relatively well-off farmers now have small shops and other businesses in the area providing services, removing the need for settlers to travel to Kadoma to purchase items.

Finally, the state has been largely absent in the area throughout the study period. But whereas in 2004-05 people complained, by 2013 most had accepted this, and created new ways of gaining services, sourcing finance and so on. There was noted growth in entrepreneurial activity among individuals, as well as collective action in groups, around issues ranging from credit to marketing to input supply.

The patterns seen in Sanyati are very similar to what has been observed elsewhere. The integration of the mining economy is perhaps more evident than in other areas, although work in Ngezi, Matabeleland and elsewhere observes this as an important phenomenon. Land reform was not just about opportunities for agriculture, but access to other resources too.

What is striking about the longitudinal story so effectively told in this paper is how things have changed – greater class differentiation, shifting gender roles, more asset accumulation, shifts in work/labour patterns and so on, while particular events generate important shifts, driven by the wider political economy, with 2008 being an important conjuncture.

Making sense of the implications of land reform in Zimbabwe requires just this sort of study, and this adds to others offering nuanced insights that help new framings for policy.

This is the second in a series of short reviews of new work on agriculture and land in Zimbabwe. Nearly all of these studies are by Zimbabwean researchers, reflecting the growing research capacity and ability to comment on important issues of policy in the post-Mugabe era. If there are other papers or books that you think should be included, please let me know!

This post was written by Ian Scoones and first appeared on Zimbabweland

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The changing fortunes of former farm workers in Zimbabwe


Last week, I offered an overview of our findings on changing livelihoods among former farm workers from three former large-scale farms near Mvurwi in Mazowe district, and focused on broad survey findings, but what about individual’s life stories and perspectives? This week, I share four case examples of around 25 we have collected to date. They offer important glimpses into the life of farmworkers, before and after land reform (see also blogs from last year on this theme).

The first two are women (both single) who have gardens, but must rely on piecework and remittances to survive. The first case fits into the group highlighted last week of households with between zero and 1 ha of land, while the second has no land beyond a very small home garden. The second two are profiles of men and their households, both with 1 ha plots. From these interviews we can see clearly how things have changed, in different ways from different people.

A recurrent theme is the sense of new freedoms, but also extreme challenges and precarity. Reflections on the past focus on control, ordering and disciplining, but also stability and the certainty of a wage. As the testimonies show, farmers were very different in their approach. Different people weigh up the pros and cons of change in different ways. Gaining access to land, as highlighted last week, even if a very small plot is seen as crucial, but this is only available to some, and security of tenure is uncertain, dependant on local patronage relations.

The life histories highlight the multi-generational experience of farm work, and the endless mobility of moving farm to farm in search of work. Several of these cases have family connections with Mozambique or Malawi, but several generations removed. Home has become the farms, although some have communal area links. A fragile existence persists, as we see much mobility in populations living in the compounds in our study areas. Evictions are frequent, and conflicts with settlers common, although, as noted in some of the cases new accommodations, as land is rented, skills hired and former farm workers become incorporated.

Above all, the cases highlight the complex livelihoods of former farm workers, and how, as discussed last week, the single category is insufficient. A process of differentiation is occurring among former farm worker communities, with links to the new settlers and radically changed agrarian landscape influencing what is possible.

Do read four of the interview transcripts collected earlier this year:

“There’s no-one to plan for you”

I was born in Forrester Estate in 1967. My father worked there on irrigation, opening water to the canal. Mango and apple is what they grew mostly. Also wheat and soy bean. My mother worked as a general worker. I came to this farm with my parents. I went to school up to Grade III (Lucknow farm school). My mother became sick so I left school. I looked after the other children, as I was the first born. I was married in 1980. I went with my husband to Mozambique in 1992, and returned here in 2009. My husband married another wife – it didn’t work out. My father is still here, and my mother is late. I have had five children. My first born girl is late, and I also have four boys. Two did Form 4, and other two up to Grade V/VI.

We have a garden for growing tomatoes and vegetables. We go and sell by the road side to raise cash for school fees. It’s about one acre. We dug ponds in the garden. I work with one of my sons in the garden, and do not hire labour. We do maricho (piecework labour) ourselves. One son is here, but the others are in Mozambique, but I don’t get any income from them. In past when working for whites, we had very small gardens near the house only. Now we have extended gardens, and can grow more. My livelihood is better now, as I have the freedom to do gardening, and sell without asking anyone for permission. You can plan to do what you want. There’s no-one to plan for you. Before you were told what to do. Now time is your own. You have to plan. If you work the land you will be OK; if you are lazy and don’t bother, you will starve.

“There is more freedom but it’s a tough life”

I was born in 1977 and went to school up to Grade 7, but I didn’t proceed to secondary, as I had no birth certificate. I was the first born of a family of four. We lived on different farms on Forrester Estate. My father was a cook who moved from place to place, working for the same white man who was a cattle manager. My mother was both a general labourer and a house girl. My father started out as a worker, then became foreman, then house boy then cook. My grandparents were farm workers too, working near Concession, and were originally from Mozambique where they were both born.

We moved to this farm in 1992 when my father’s boss moved. I have never married, but I gave birth to a son in 1992, who is now training to be a lawyer at university. I have two boys and a girl, and live with my parents. We have never had any money. The pay was always poor. The white farm owner here was harsh. If you bought a bicycle or TV he wanted to know where it came from. There was a mindset that workers would always steal. Even if we had extra money, we would not buy things, as the farmer would be suspicious. Here you were not allowed to farm anything. No gardens even. In one year only he gave 3 lines for all the workers, but that was it. As a cook, foreman, driver or clerk you got given second-hand chairs or a TV from the whites.

We have been helped by my brothers. Two were kombi drivers in Banket. My parents helped then get licenses. They helped with the education of my kids, and fund my son at UZ. Today it’s difficult to raise money – it’s only maricho (piecework). Despite being old, my father and mother even go. We have a very small garden, where we grow vegetables and a bit of maize. We do have one cow which gives us milk. We don’t have any other land. Those with connections got 1 hectares, and farmworkers were prevented from getting resettlement land. This is home now. We have nowhere to go. The farm workers have a cemetery. This is where we live, however difficult.

In the past you had a salary. You knew it would come. If the boss had relatives visiting, my father would get extra. Now you don’t know where money will come from. But at least we will not be asked where we got the money to buy things. We now have a TV, sofa and kitchen unit. Each child has a bed. We also have solar. There is more freedom but it’s a tough life.

“Relations are better now”

I was born in 1969 in Muzarabani, was married in 1993 and I have four kids: two girls are now married and did up to Form 4, I have one boy doing Form 3, and one girl in Grade 6. My parents worked on the farms, creating the steam for the boilers for curing. I started working after Form 1, as an assistant spanner boy at Concession, and went to work on tobacco farms in Centenary. In 1995, I was promoted to be a foreman, and later went on a course on curing, planting, reaping at Blackfordby.

I came here in 1997, as my boss was friends with the former owner here. He was a tough guy. You couldn’t buy personal property. I had a small radio only. I would buy goats and sell for school fees, and other money was sent to my parents now retired back in Muzarabani communal. I tried to keep broilers, but was taken to the farmer’s own court, and wasn’t allowed to keep them. He needed people to be dependent. You had to buy at his shop, and couldn’t go to Mvurwi. He would give chikwerete (loans), but would be deducted from the salary. There was a football ground, and we were the ‘Sharp Shooters’, competing between between farms.

I got a 1 ha plot in 2002. Because farmworkers were prevented by the white farmer from the card sorting exercise for allocation of land, 27 of us came together and argued that we needed allocation. We went to the village heads, party officials and the Ministry of Lands. In the end, we were given land set aside for ‘growth’. We don’t have ‘offer letters’, but we went to the District Administrator and our names are there. But without ‘offer letters’, we can’t get any support. We don’t have any help at all. There is still suspicion of us compound workers. During the elections of 2008 it got really bad, and we were thrown out. We camped on the roadside for three days, until the MP and other officials intervened. We came back and relations are better now.

I also have been renting land. One of my relatives has a big field in the A1 settlement. She is a war vet and was married to my late brother, and I rent a plot to grow maize from her. In exchange, I help them out and do the grading and curing of their tobacco. But this year I didn’t get any land, as she used the full six hectares. My son, my wife and I all do piece work. We’ve got a garden (about 30 x 40 m), and grow potatoes for sale in Mvurwi, and at the homestead we grow bananas and sweet potatoes.

I first planted tobacco in 2006, with 7000 plants and got 12 bales. Then in subsequent years, I got 15, 12 (I was disturbed in 2008 by the evictions), 16, 18 and 20 bales. Since 2011 I have got 20 each year, with 25 bales in 2016, the highest ever. I employ workers on piece work from the compounds myself. After harvest I buy inputs in Harare, bulk buying. After land reform, I have bought other goods. We now have a 21” TV, a sofa, two bicycles, a kitchen unit, a wardrobe and a big radio. I built the barn myself, making the bricks. I also have two cows and three goats, and I hire a government tractor (from the Brazilian More Food International programme) for ploughing.

“Life is better now if you have land”

I was born in 1963 on a farm in Concession. Our family originated from Mozambique; my parents came as labourers. My parents separated, and the six kids went with my mother to another farm. We moved to many farms over the years, and came here in 1981. Of my siblings, one of my brothers is also here, and another works on a farm near Harare doing brick moulding. My two sisters live in Epworth.

At first I was a general labourer. I got married in 1984, and it was around that time that I got promoted to deputy foreman on the ranching operation. My now stepfather came here in 1986. He is now late and was a specialised grader. I have five kids: 4 boys and 1 girl. My first born is working and assisting me. My second born is assisting teaching here on the farm paid by the Salvation Army, the others are still at school.

I have a one hectare plot and a garden. The Committee of Seven and sabhuku (headman) allocated plots to 30 people (out of 89 households in the compound). At land reform, we were prevented from getting land. We concentrated on our jobs. We didn’t know if the land reform would happen for long. Now we know it’s a reality, but we missed out. Before the farmer would parcel out lines in different fields for farm workers. This was an alternative to rations, and only maize only allowed. You could get a tonne out of your allocation.

The farmer here wanted everyone to go to school (Lucknow Primary). Four white farmers built the school for farm workers, and school fees were deducted from wages. We did not rely on extra work apart from farm labour. We were busy. We had a revolving savings club to allow us to buy things, but couldn’t buy much. It was a struggle. We didn’t buy livestock as we had nowhere to keep them. We were allowed to buy TVs, radios, bicycles. But the farmer didn’t want noise, so radios had to be quiet! We had enough to survive; hand to mouth.

On my one hectare plot, I generally plant tobacco and maize 50/50. I managed to buy a truck in 2014 from 16 bales of tobacco from ¾ ha. I have five cattle, an ox cart and an ox drawn plough. I also managed to by a bed. I have to pay school fees too. I use the truck to transport tobacco to the floors, and others pay. From 2013, I am no longer going for maricho (piecework). Those with 1 ha plots end up being the employers here. Otherwise if you don’t have land it’s all maricho. Sourcing inputs and tillage is a major challenge. In the past selling was not a problem, you could get a letter from the Councillor. But today they want an offer letter. About eight compound members have TIMB grower numbers. I help others to sell under my number. They say thanks with $20.

One son does it locally on the A1 farms. Family members help in my field, and they get a share. I hire labourers from the compound. About five when doing picking, also planting, weeding, grading. $3-4 per day. My son also now has a one hectare plot, given out by the A2 farmer next door, who lives in the old farm house. There is no payment for the land, but if he asks for some help, we go and help out. It’s all about good relations.

Life is better now if you have land, even though it is small. For those without land, they view the past as better.

This post was written by Ian Scoones and appeared on Zimbabweland.


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Why is IDS a special institution?

ids timeline

The Institute of Development Studies (IDS) at the University of Sussex is celebrating its 50th birthday this year. I have been working here for a shocking 40% of this time, and in the week of a major anniversary conference, I thought I should jot a few thoughts down on why IDS has been and remains special.

In 1966, the Institute was founded with Dudley Seers as the first director. It was designated a ‘special institution’ by the UK government, with a particular mandate for research and training. In the period following the end of colonialism, Britain had a special role and needed a special institution. The project of ‘development’ in the ‘Third World’ back then was not supposed to last 50 years. But today with a different focus and new challenges the need for critical, engaged research and training is needed perhaps even more than ever.

Critical traditions

But what for me is special, and why have I remained committed to IDS for now more than 20 years? There have been many tributes, reflections and summary histories offered, but none for me capture the importance of IDS’ radical, critical traditions: the ability to challenge orthodoxies, to speak truth to power, and to translate this into action. Being neither a purely academic institution, nor a NGO or think tank, but a hybrid, not fettered by the constraints and limitations of either, is very important. It can be uncomfortable; but that’s the point.

When I first came to IDS in 1995, there was always a classic set-piece debate between Michael Lipton and Robert Chambers at the beginning of each academic year. They represented two different views on development, held productively in tension. Of course they agreed more than the performance suggested, but it was a useful highlight of how a common normative commitment to progressive change could be looked at through very different lenses: between top-down and bottom-up, between macro-structural and micro-people focused analyses, between economics and wider social sciences, and so on. Using diverse approaches, encapsulated in the 1993 classic, States and Markets, IDS research over many years has challenged what became the dominant neoliberal paradigm, encapsulated in its most extreme ideological form by the ‘Washington Consensus’.

In the last 20 years, these debates have continued in different forms. There have been many excellent contributions that have taken the stance represented more by the Lipton side of the debate – from looking at industrial clusters and value chains to the economic role of the rising powers – as well as many that have emphasised more the Chambers-type perspectives – including the on-going work on participation, citizenship and popular politics.

But actually the most challenging contributions have been when such perspectives have been in dialogue. This is only possible in a cross-disciplinary institution, where the drag of narrow disciplinary specialisms – and the horrific metric-dominated assessment approaches that go with this today – do not limit interaction and creativity. Let me highlight a few of these areas (of many), where I think IDS work (and crucially that of its global network of partners) has been especially exciting.


One area that I have been fairly centrally involved in, and I think is quintessentially IDS, is work on livelihoods. Indeed with both Chambers and Lipton involved, this was from the beginning a syncretic endeavour. When I produced the 1998 IDS Working Paper on the sustainable livelihoods framework, both reviewed it. And indeed the framework – with its long back history involving many people from Jeremy Swift to Susanna Moorhead to Richard Longhurst, among others – was the result of just these conversations: an approach explicitly aimed at involving economists, yet not forgetting the social, political and institutional. More recently I have reflected on the limitations, particularly as applied in development practice, and argued for a more structural, political economy perspective as central to livelihoods approaches.

States and citizens

This tension between wider structural, political-economic analysis and more locality-focused, participatory understandings was perhaps best illustrated during the 2000s when IDS hosted two of the early DFID Development Research Centres – one on the state and one on citizenship, led by two formidable political scientists – Mick Moore and John Gaventa. With IDS by then exclusively reliant on external, tied support from different donors, inevitably projects had to respond to the contours of the funding environment, and this slightly odd division reflected that in DFID at the time. But hosted within one institution it allowed for a productive, if at times tetchy, debate. Does citizen action construct states, or do states construct citizens? And what do states and citizens constitute anyway? Both centres provided an important challenge, once again, to the neoliberal versions being touted elsewhere.

Gender and empowerment

Work on gender empowerment has been a central feature of work at IDS and Sussex since the 1970s, and the classic contributions of Kate Young and Annie Whitehead. Naila Kabeer, Anne Marie Goetz, Andrea Cornwall and many others followed the tradition, offering challenging scholarship rooted in real struggles. But here too the important tension between structural change versus collective organisation from below played out again. In feminist analyses of course the personal is always political – and vice versa. However in discussions of ‘empowerment’ we see different strands, ranging from those focusing on economic empowerment and formal rights, versus those emphasising individual agency, the politics of the body and sexuality. Debating these dimensions has been a massively important contribution.

The politics of knowledge

Whether taking a more structural view or one more focused on individual or collective agency, knowledge framings matter. The politics of knowledge has been especially emphasised in IDS work on the environment, which really took off in a big way from the early 1990s. As Robert Chambers memorably asked: whose reality counts? The now classic 1996 book, The Lie of the Land, edited by Melissa Leach and Robin Mearns, asked why it was that so often environmental management and policy in Africa – from the colonial era to the present – does not respond to realities on the ground, and systematically ignores local knowledges. The answer of course is politics – and how experts, embedded in institutions, understand the world.

Environment and sustainability

This theme of the politics of the policy process has been a central theme of IDS work on environment and resources over 20 years. Building on strong connections with IDS’ sister institution at Sussex, the Science Policy Research Unit (SPRU), also celebrating 50 years this year, we jointly launched the STEPS Centre in 2006, with ESRC funds, and with Melissa Leach and Andy Stirling I have had the privilege of jointly directing the Centre since then. Here a highly productive synergy between the concerns of development studies and science and technology studies has unfolded over the past decade. With knowledge, politics, and power central, we too have struggled with understanding ‘pathways to sustainability’ that at once capture the relational agency of diverse actors and the wider conditioning effects of political economy. Once again a cross-disciplinary engagement has been absolutely essential –and immensely exciting, intellectually and practically.

Making a difference

None of these research efforts, often lasting long periods, with multiple funders, and diverse research teams at Sussex and beyond, is aimed solely at producing outputs from esteemed academic journals (although there have been plenty of these). All IDS researchers are committed to change: generating ideas to make a difference. In the world of often pointless impact case studies and metrics this may sound glib; but political engagement matters not just to analysis, but also to practice.

The first two images of the official but rather selective IDS 50th anniversary timeline are one of Stanmer House, a very English country house in the South Downs, near the campus of the University of Sussex where IDS was first based, and a Warhol-esque picture of Chairman Mao. It is these sort of contrasts, tensions and yes contradictions that keeps IDS on its toes, and makes it, despite the funding pressures, an exciting place to work – and really does make IDS a special institution.

This post was written by Ian Scoones and appeared on Zimbabweland



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Twenty years of livelihood change in southern Zimbabwe

In 1985 I first went to Zimbabwe, and to Mazvihwa communal area in Zvishavane district in particular, at the invitation of Ken Wilson and Cephas Mukamuri, the late father of Billy Mukamuri, now chair at CASS at UZ. I was to start my PhD research on the ecology and economics of livestock production in the communal areas.

1985 was a time of hope and expectation. Independence had been achieved, investments were flowing (if rather slowly to the remote Mazvihwa), and everyone was expecting – including us idealistic researchers – a great developmental transformation. Yes there were challenges to this idealistic (naive?) vision. Unknown to us then, the brutal massacres in Matabeleland were happening, and the political formation of the new Zimbabwe was shaky to say the least. South Africa was still under apartheid, and launched destabilising raids into what were then ‘the frontline states’. But despite this the future to us at least looked bright.

So what happened in Mazvihwa since? I have been visiting friends there over the last 20 years, and during the 1990s, I was involved in a project over the Runde river in Chivi which became the book, Hazards and Opportunities. But it was not until 2004 when Josphat Mushongah wrote to me proposing PhD at the IDS that I got to know what really had happened in the intervening years. Josphat had been the assistant district administrator in Zvishavane in the 1990s and knew many of the people I did. I suggested that he do a restudy for his PhD, asking what happened to people’s livelihoods between 1986 and 2006.

And this is what he did. A restudy is not as easy as it sounds. In the 1980s Ken Wilson and I only had a small sample of around 70 households. Many were still resident, although the older household heads had passed on. Some households had dissolved, and discovering when and why required some patient forensics. But tracing those who had left the area required the biggest challenge. Josphat travelled by bus, donkey cart and foot to the furthest reaches of the country, and located everyone. Tracing the next generation was also a challenge, as many had spread through the diaspora – from South Africa to Botswana to the UK.

His PhD is a fascinating read, and a paper emerging from that restudy has just been published in the Journal of Development Studies (submitted version). In this paper we take the ‘wealth ranking’ analysis I did in the 1980s and the repeat Josphat did 20 years on, and explore, with survey data, livelihood biographies and so on, what happened to particular households – both those in the original sample, and their Mazvihwa resident offspring.  It’s an engrossing tale. Some have improved their lot, some have declined, while others have stayed much the same. The factors that have affected these changes are diverse. A sequence of poor harvests could push someone down; a death, illness or period of unemployment could have dramatic consequences. Equally, a windfall payout from a retrenchment or an inheritance of some animals could have the opposite effects. Chance, luck, and happenstance have as much to answer for as the relatively more predictable dynamics of social differentiation.

While the sample is small, as only 11 acquired new land through resettlement – either through the formal resettlements in the 1980-90s, the informal movements to the ‘frontier lands’ of Gokwe and beyond in the 1990s, or the fast-track; in the 2000s – the results are interesting. Nearly all of these households improved their lot, and only one who fled to the frontier areas showed a decline. Gaining land as an asset is an important form of social protection, and can help improve living standards.

Overall, though, the great expectations and naive hopes of the 1980s have not been realised in Mazvihwa. Despite the tarmac road, the new resettlement opportunities and the investments in schools and clinics, the place remains a backwater. Poor, isolated, and plagued by drought, few are making a significant living from farming alone. Off-farm opportunities are perhaps fewer than they were in the 1980s, and the prospects for the next generation are limited. Most talk of exit – getting educated, and getting out. For some this is to the new resettlements where there is land and some prospect of prosperity; for others it is out of the country, perhaps as border jumpers but ideally with a proper job.

This post was written by Ian Scoones and originally appeared on Zimbabweland


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