DEAR family and friends,
Long-time readers of my Letters From Zimbabwe will know that South Africa has long been our refuge.
For more than 25 years, it has been the place Zimbabweans turned to when everything else fell apart.
When violent farm invasions drove families from their homes, South Africa offered safety. When political violence followed disputed elections, it became a sanctuary. When supermarket shelves in Zimbabwe stood empty, we crossed the border to buy food and were welcomed. When the economy collapsed and jobs disappeared, South Africa gave hundreds of thousands of Zimbabweans the chance to work, support their families and send money home for food, medicine and school fees.
For all of that, thank you.
This week, however, something changed.
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It has been heart-breaking to watch groups of protesters turn against fellow Africans, accusing them of being undocumented migrants.
The fear has not been limited to undocumented migrants. Zimbabweans with valid permits say they, too, have been threatened, assaulted and driven from their homes.
The voices from holding centres are heart-breaking.
"They just chased us out."
"They didn't even ask if we had papers."
"We ran for our lives."
"I had to leave everything behind."
Leaving everything behind is devastating.
But what are people returning to?
They are coming home to an economy where wages remain far below the cost of living. Domestic workers earn less than US$110 a month, many teachers and nurses earn little more than US$300, while pensioners survive on about US$70. Yet a family of four needs roughly US$400 to US$500 a month simply for food, before paying rent, utilities or transport.
Jobs are scarce. Fuel prices are among the highest in the region. For many, survival is already a daily struggle.
The consequences extend far beyond those crossing the border.
For years, remittances from Zimbabweans working in South Africa have sustained families, paid school fees, bought medicines and helped keep the economy afloat. Those remittances have become so important that they are reflected in Zimbabwe's national budget.
There are many opinions about the events unfolding in South Africa, about those protesting, those fleeing and those responsible for finding lasting solutions.
One question, however, continues to dominate conversations: why were concerns over undocumented migration allowed to reach this point instead of being addressed through established legal and administrative processes?
Whatever the answer, our hearts are breaking for Zimbabweans.
They left their families behind to earn a living and keep loved ones alive.
Now many are returning with nothing.
Reports indicate that more than 29 000 Zimbabweans either voluntarily returned or were deported from South Africa during May and June 2026, with more expected to follow.
Yet after everything, one image refuses to leave my mind.
A short video showed young men escaping from the upper floor of a hostel, climbing through windows and sliding down drainpipes as protesters reportedly moved from room to room searching for migrants.
Among them was a little boy wearing brown shorts and a red-and-white striped shirt.
He climbed through the window.
He reached for the drainpipe.
He lost his grip.
Every time I close my eyes, I see that little boy falling.
And I am bereft.