Harare, Zimbabwe – Every morning, Dumisani Ngara* wakes up at dawn and takes a bus at 6:30am to work at Zimbabwe’s National Ministry of Housing and Social Amenities. The bus provided by the government is free for public servants in Harare, and with his monthly salary of $250, he tries to save as much cents as possible.
Once you get to work, NGARA will ensure that all your files for the day are tidy before the office opens at 8:30am. Between the paperwork and the meeting, he takes a break. At 1pm he opens a lunch box filled with rice and meat prepared at home.
“Most of us here work to the fullest extent of our capabilities. It’s a profession I love. It also comes with job safety,” said three 48-year-old husbands and father.
But by 5pm, when the end of the workday arrives, instead of returning home, Ngara rushes to the toilet in a pub across the street, where she transforms into sweatpants and a t-shirt, then walks four blocks to join her eldest son on a paved food stall in the city centre. From there, they sell groceries to passersby.
The hustle and bustle on Ngara’s side is a secret, as government workers in Zimbabwe are restricted from holding other jobs. However, he says that life is tough with just one source of income.
NGARA has been a government worker since 2010, but it has been particularly difficult to achieve its objectives since 2019, when inflation rose by up to 300% and the value of its pay was eroded.
His family had to plan to provide rent and other expenses.
“My wife sells fruits and vegetables from home while she does the same after work with CBD,” Ngara said, referring to the Central Business District.
“The salary is pathetic.”
Ngaras is not alone.
On the streets of Harare, more and more civil servants are turning to vending sales as official hours are finished.
NGARA returns home around 8pm, but most of the work is working until 9pm or 10pm.
Most people who look to vending work are teachers. Takavafira Zhou is the president of Zimbabwe’s progressive Union of Teachers and says that teachers are taking on these informal jobs because “salaries are not pathetic and “families cannot interact with each other.”
People “fail to pay tuition, to support their families, to pay medical expenses, to pay rent,” he explained. “Therefore, government workers designed ways of survival.”
According to Zhou, the “majority of government workers” has now changed to some sort of vending, but there is no data to confirm this.
According to Zimstats, the informal sector of Zimbabwe contributes 18% to the country’s gross domestic product (GDP) and 20% of employment. But experts say the government is underestimating the numbers, with the majority of Zimbabweans working in the informal sector.
“It’s a situation where you can either starve or find a way to survive, keeping in mind that your employer doesn’t care,” Zhou added that he is denounced for providing teachers with unfair pay and not improving working conditions.
Before November 2018, most Zimbabwean civil servants, including teachers, earned a basic monthly salary of around $540.
However, since the economic downturn in 2019, the government has stopped offering payments awarded in full US dollars. The salary is currently divided into two parts. US Dollar (USD) Component – For most civil servants, the amount in local currency is less than $100 when converted.
“We’re in the jungle.”
One afternoon, Ngara and his 21-year-old son spread the product on the pavement in front of a registered supermarket or store selling the same items as the store.
Last year, the government imposed stricter regulations on the use of new gold-supported currencies, ZIGs and foreign currency to tackle hyperinflation. As a result, registered stores must either trade in local currency or use the official USD exchange rate.
Meanwhile, informal vendors use black market exchange rates. This means that the product is cheap for customers. They are also traded in hard US dollar currency. Most Zimbabweans are more stable and prefer to buy from vendors, so they keep USD notes in place of local invoices.
“We don’t accept local currency,” explained Talilo Msekiwa, a street vendor sitting in a cardboard box that only trades USD.
Currently, the official exchange rate is between 1 and 26.4 Zig, but the informal black market rate ranges from 36 to 40 Zig per USD, resulting in fewer consumers in the informal market.
People need to buy products at a lower cost, said Musekiwa, who sells soap, heartfelt drinks and yogurt. He believes the vendors provide important services as the same products are more expensive in stores.
Ngara agreed. “When I look at the streets, all the pavement and corners are full of people selling something. So I’m trying to sell products that sell quickly at low prices,” he said.
“We are in the jungle. It’s the survival of the fittest.”
However, for registered store owners, the influx of vendors was not a blessing.
Trymore Chirozva, manager of Food World, a supermarket retailer at Harare, expressed his disappointment that the vendor is selling similar products on the pavement.
“Unlike before, when vendors only sold fruits and vegetables, it became a recent mini store and influenced our business,” he said.
Harare’s CBD only has five official vending sites, covering less than 200 vendors. But thousands of informal vendors gather on the streets every day.
Ngara and many others admit that it operates without official permission, but say they are finding ways to get around the rules. “Officers simply ask for some bribes or just pass by from time to time [us by]. ”
Big business closed store
Chirozva believes stores like him are negatively affected because vendors are not as strictly regulated as large companies.
Economist Patience Maja believes vendors are taking advantage of the regulatory gap.
“The government overregulates shops, but it’s not vendors, it’s creating them. [an] Unfair business environment for registered entities that are tax-compliant. ”
Over the past 12 months, Zimbabwe has witnessed the closure of major regional chain stores and clothing lines. The most cited reasons. U.S. use restrictions and influx of vendors taking over business without government intervention.
N Richards Group, one of Zimbabwe’s largest wholesale hardware companies, has closed two branches.
Speaking to Zimbabwean Parliament, N Richards Group director Archie Dongo said the government is overpaying people who are already paying taxes.
“We’re going to lower the tax level and the tax chief, but we’re going to collect that tax from as many players as possible. That way, there’s no problem with fiscal mobilization in the economy.
OK Zimbabwe, the country’s top supermarket retailer, has struggled to restock its branches over the past year. This is a challenge exacerbated by the introduction of ZIG, which disrupts supply chains and pricing structures. The retailer closed five supermarkets in January.
Economist Kaziba believes that government economic policies play a “significant role” in the struggles of the business sector.
“This policy has dramatically reduced money supply and puts considerable pressure on companies, including major retailers such as OK Zimbabwe and N Richards,” he said.
“These companies are being forced to shrink in response to a challenging economic situation driven by a tough financial situation.”
“Something specific”
Just as traditional businesses struggle, so does traditional workers.
Many people like Ngara accept side jobs, but some have completely abandoned government jobs.
Portia Mbano, 39, has quit her job as a civil servant to become a full-time vendor.
Initially she started out as a small seller after opening hours. However, she soon realized that she was “aged and needed something concrete.”
“I realized that I’m losing so much from spending time in the office. [rather] Rather than making this a full-time job,” she said.
She currently sells a variety of food items and small household items from CBD paved stalls.
Samuel Mangoma, director of the Vendor Initiative for Social and Economic Change, an organization that promotes the rights of Africa’s informal economic workers, told Al Jazeera that there has been a “surge in” for road power vendors in central Harare.
“This is a result of limited opportunities in the formal job market,” he said.
However, he frowns at vendors operating in front of the store, selling the same items at a cheaper price.
“People are trying to survive in this extremely challenging economic environment. But we are not encouraging our members to occupy and occupy the space in front of grocery stores and major retailers. We are encouraging them to work from spaces that do not unnecessarily cause conflicts with other business players,” he said.
Nevertheless, on the streets, government workers continue to set up informal shops, and Ngara says he plans to continue until his family is stable enough to survive without it.
“My son needs to go to college and own the property at least for my family, so I need both jobs up until that time,” Ngara said.
“Despite the challenges we face on the streets, including government through councils and police trying to take us out of the CBD, we will continue to play cat and mouse games for at least now.”
*Name changed to protect privacy
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