Towards an Anthropology of Survival Exploring the narrated experiences of private and government school youth in Bulawayo: Navigating the self in a sea of schizophrenic moralities
MSc Cultural and Social Anthropology
Graduate School of Social Sciences
Giada Serena Sabbion 11046627 Amsterdam – July 6th, 2017
Master thesis submitted to the Faculty of Social and Behavioural Sciences at the University of Amsterdam, in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Science, Department of Cultural and Social Anthropology.
Word count thesis: 27.450
Supervisor: Dr. Yatun Sastramidjaja Second reader: Dr. Rachel Spronk Third Reader: Dr. Ria Reis
Plagiarism Declaration
I hereby declare that this thesis meets the rules and regulations for fraud and plagiarism as set out by the Examination Committee of the MSc Cultural and Social Anthropology at the University of Amsterdam. This thesis is entirely my own original work and all sources have been properly acknowledged.
Giada Sabbion July 6th, 2017
Disclaimer
For the purpose of ensuring the anonymity of my interlocutors, this version of the thesis, Towards an Anthropology of Survival, will only be available within the Anthropology Department of the University of Amsterdam Graduate School of Social Sciences.
Abstract
In spite of the official political agenda since independence to re-establish black authority and foster indigenous empowerment, the memory of Zimbabwe’s colonial past and the remnants of its irreparable influences still permeate the country’s contemporary ideological and structural framework. Carrying out ethnographic research amongst youth within private and government schooling in Bulawayo led to the uncovering of discourse indicative to the existence of a conflict between a nation striving for a western-centric ideal of socio-economic modernity whilst seeking to maintain traditional pre-colonial socio-cultural values through the philosophy of Ubuntu. By examining youth’s narratives and experiences within formal education structures, this paper explores the way in which this conflict is played out within the schooling system and the implication it has on the way in which youth conceptualise their sense of self. It presents a brief genealogy of Zimbabwean formal education and youth socialisation structures before examining the dynamics of the contemporary moral systems within which they operate particularly with respect to figures of authority. It goes on to look at the way in which youth experience schooling and the value that they attribute to it in relation to the expectations and aspirations they have for the future. Looking at two situationally opposed micro sites of society is aimed at exploring how the need for Zimbabwean youth to navigate ‘themselves’ in and around this underlying conflict is a struggle which is shared, albeit in different ways, across the two spectrums of Zimbabwean society. This sets the path for arguing in favour of the existence of a unified culture of survival, as through this struggle, youth work towards the subjective interpretations of what anthropologist Joel Robbins termed, the ‘pursuit of the good’. Ultimately what this paper seeks to clarify is how youth feel they need to behave and what they think they have to do in order to achieve it given their situational circumstances.
Acknowledgements
I would like to begin by thanking the participants of this research who entrusted me with their stories, making me feel welcome and included in their daily routines and experiences. I would also like to extend my gratitude to the Averys who opened their home to me during the three months I spent in the field and to my parents who have supported me throughout this this process.
I am indebted to my fellow classmates whose invaluable council and encouragement fueled my writing and whose friendship has been a source of great joy.
Finally, I would like to give special thanks to my supervisor Yatun Sastramidjaja whose advice, patience and dedication gave me calm in moments of crisis.
Table of Content
1. INTRODUCTION 1 1.1- WHAT WAS IT LIKE MUM? 1 1.2- LIVING IN A TIME CAPSULE 2 1.3- CHOOSING A SCHOOL IN BULAWAYO 4 1.4- TOWARDS AN ANTHROPOLOGY OF SURVIVAL 7
2. LOOKING FROM THE INSIDE-OUT 11 2.1- SITUATING MEANING IN EDUCATION 11 2.2- I AM THEREFORE WE ARE 16 2.3- CULTURAL AMNESIA 18 2.4- UNCOVERING THE MECHANISMS OF SOCIAL TRANSFORMATION 21
3. CONNECTING PARALLEL REALITIES OF PUBLIC AND PRIVATE SCHOOLING 23 3.1- WHO IS THIS MAKIWA? 23 3.2- IDLE HANDS AND PRODUCTIVE PLAY 25 3.3- THE KEY TO SUCCESS 28 3.4- THINGS COULD BE BETTER 31 3.5- PAYING TO PROVE FRIENDSHIPS 33
4. NEGOTIATING THE SELF 37 4.1- QUESTIONING THE UNQUESTIONABLE 37 4.2- ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME? 39 4.4- CONFESSIONS OF YOUTH 44
5. THE BURDENS ZIMBABWEAN YOUTH 48 5.1- PURGING OF THE PAST 48 5.2- IN AMERICA I WOULD BE A DRUG LORD 51 5.3- JUGGLING DREAMS OF WORK AND PLEASURE 54
6. CONCLUSION 57
BIBLIOGRAPHY 62
1. Introduction
1.1- What was it like mum?
Touchdown. I arrive in Harare international airport with my father who against his will had accompanied me after much insistence by my mother whom I had tried in vain to convince that I would manage very well on my own. “Giada” she said firmly, “you don’t understand, Zimbabwe is dangerous, people there are desperate and that makes them dangerous.” Born a coloured woman in Rhodesia, my mother had told me stories of her life as the child of a successful and proud businessman who, with the privileges bestowed on him by his wealth and characteristically arrogant sense of self entitlement, insisted on every occasion to ignore the racial restrictions imposed by the colonial government and permit himself and his family all the freedoms normally reserved for white Rhodesian citizens. This included sending his children to private schooling, the memory of which my Mother describes resentfully,
“I went to Convent, a private all-girls school. We were taught by Catholic Nuns, they were so evil, very unkind. They would beat the girls at every occasion, luckily my father would not allow them to touch me or your aunties but they were still very cruel, all the coloured girls were made to attend basic secretarial lessons, typing, shorthand etc. that’s all we were good for you see. I used to beg grandad all the time to send me to a normal school but he wouldn’t listen.”
As she recalls this reality, she is further irritated by the memory of her subordinate position as a child and the religious impositions that were forced upon her, surrounded by a cloud of conservative discourse: “We were constantly reminded that children should be seen and not heard, and certain topics were off limits as it wasn’t even proper to say the word pregnant in the house.” The environment within which all this occurred however was in direct contrast to the bitter tone with which she described her relationships with adult authority. She spoke fondly of the spatial freedoms she enjoyed whilst growing up, portraying an idyllic setting with large houses and even bigger gardens with swimming pools; all within a temperate climate of warm sun and refreshing rain storms that allowed the subtle scent of mango, guava and avocado trees to fill the air during their respective seasons throughout the year.
1 My mother left Zimbabwe for the U.K. in 1981, only one year into what is now Robert Mugabe’s thirty-seventh year as President of the country. Having visited sporadically over the years, she has not lived the gradual changes and transitions of an independent Zimbabwe. Instead, she witnessed stark moments of systematic decline in infrastructure, resources and rule of law with every trip, describing the very setting that she spoke so fondly of as now being a relic of what once was. The reality of my mother’s childhood is largely unrepresentative of broader Rhodesian society at the time as within the unofficial hierarchy of races, being of mixed Chinese and Indian heritage placed her in a superior socio-political position to the majority black indigenous population. By indigenous, I intend those individuals who identify their heritage as being with one or more tribal groups in the region. As such, my mother’s own heritage disassociated her from any knowledge of pre-colonial Zimbabwean culture and customs. Long before she was born, the imperialist goal of bringing the native population into civilised modernity was executed through systematic Christianisation and the colony-wide imposition of British institutional structures. In present-day Zimbabwe, the white and coloured population has greatly decreased, with many who are able to, having opted to emigrate out of the country. In Bulawayo, Zimbabwe’s second largest city and historically industrial hub, this fact in combination with the government’s efforts to promote black social and economic empowerment, has led to private educational institutions, previously attended and staffed by a majority white students and teachers, now seeing a reversal in racial ratio with most teachers and students being predominantly black. Government schools in poor urban high-density areas on the other hand have remained solely indigenous and have maintained much of the organisational structures that had originally been implemented under colonial rule; what has changed are the architects of the curriculum and its content. Considering the substantial changes that have occurred in postcolonial Zimbabwe over a relatively short period of time, my interest lies in exploring the way in which this has affected the dynamics of socialisation and knowledge acquisition within these educational settings; particularly in relation to the significance it has on youths’ formulation of the self.
1.2- Living in a time capsule
I spent my three months of field research being hosted by a coloured Christian family of Seventh day Adventist denomination, the Avery’s with whom my mother had been acquainted, four members of which I had the most contact with. Ellard, the head of the family, was an energetic man in his mid-seventies who spent most of his time working and living at a gold mine he owned on the outskirts of the capital city of Harare. Sandra, his wife in her late fifties, dedicated her days
2 to caring for her elderly mother. She lived in a spacious four-bedroom bungalow in the Bulawayo suburbs, encircled by a large yard filled with booming flowers, the front of which framed an area of luscious green lawn. Behind the house were a vegetable patch, and two large guava and avocado trees. Stepping inside was like being in a 1940’s time capsule; everything was perfectly maintained like an exhibition I had seen in the Imperial War museum in London depicting how people lived before and after the Second World War. The kitchen was made of pale blue metal cabinets and counters, the living room was floral and the thinning carpets were faded green and dark brown throughout the house. The immaculately polished twelve-seater dining room table was made of a heavy dark oak; this is where I lived. In spite of their work in the gold mining industry the family was in an economically precarious position having little disposable cash as a result of the many complications that came with working in their particular sector with regards to weather complications, political compromises and long-fingered workers. The country’s overall cash shortage has been aggravated by the fact that banks are only allowed to release around $500 a week to account holders if indeed they have sufficient cash to do so. In addition, the government has issued Zimbabwean bond notes leading to the systematic withdrawal from circulation of the US dollar that has been used as currency since the country’s steep economic decline in 2008. Bond notes are valued 1:1 to the dollar in spite of not being formally recognised as a currency on the foreign exchange market, making it difficult for businesses to pay for the imported goods they require. Explaining this to me were Ryan, one of Ellard and Sandra’s five children, and his wife Aysha, a young couple in their early thirties with three sons, who lived on a farm in a rural area a hundred kilometres away from Bulawayo. When they had business in the city, they often came to stay at the bungalow for weeks on end during which time they provided me with much information on racial and political sensibilities and advice on how to best approach sensitive topics and with whom, making them my principal gate keepers. Given my mother’s forewarning about what she viewed as Zimbabwe’s social disarray I felt particularly anxious in my ability to gain relevant access to the field during my first couple of weeks. At first appearance, what she told me seemed to be true; the city was riddled with deep potholes and suffered sporadic power cuts. All the houses in the area in which I lived were of a similar size and structure however the majority were badly maintained having broken roofs, overgrown gardens and crumbling security walls with collapsing razor wire. Amongst them were few tidy exceptions such as the Avery’s household however, even in their case, they looked after what they had as opposed to updating it with something new. These are just a few of the elements which supported the notion that, at least in Bulawayo, once a booming industrial city, people were living in a shell of the past. Having said this, amongst the
3 numerous 1980’s Nissan Sunny’s that were on the road, it was not unusual to see brand new imported Japanese cars; mostly double cab pick-up trucks, indicative of the existence of a counter lifestyle of which little insight was provided to me by those I met. Only Ryan briefly elaborated,
“There is a lot of money to be made in Zimbabwe, in fact it is one of the few countries in which there is so much opportunity to make something out of relatively little, you just have to be resourceful and of course you need to know the right people because as soon as some government minister gets to know that you are doing well, they will either try to shut you down and take over or have a share of the pie.”
Despite the opportunity to which Ryan alluded, his account indicated that the route to achieving and maintaining economic success was strenuous and volatile. Up until that point it appeared as if people’s livelihoods predominantly depended on their resourcefulness rather than the qualifications they held as they seemed to contribute little in helping school leavers obtain formal employment. With this information, I began wondering and making assumptions about what I might hear from the youth that I had framed my research around as I questioned what it was that motivated them to go to school in the first place given the apparent lack of employment opportunities. I expected to hear stories of frustration and disillusionment with regards to the lifestyle structures in which they found themselves and their vision of the future. However, I was surprised at the underlying circumstantial acceptance and even faith in the prospects that they thought the overall societal system could offer.
1.3- Choosing a school in Bulawayo
Discussing my topic with Aysha on our five-hour car journey to Bulawayo from Harare, she appeared particularly knowledgeable on the subject of education as she herself had looked at the pros and cons of different schooling options and had decided to home school her three boys. She described the future of Zimbawean children as being precarious telling me, “the overall sentiment throughout the country is one of survival, having an education is a tool that might help ensure that survival. Although some of the private school children may just bank on the idea that they will simply inherit their parent’s occupations.” Being coloured, her children would typically be expected to go to a private school but with fees starting from $1500 per term, this was not financially viable. She went on to explain, “private school children are spoilt, they prioritise sports over academics”. Government schools on the other hand cost around $65 a term but placing her coloured children in an all-black school was simply not an option. “Education in government
4 schools is good, the standards are high but I don’t want my boys to be mixing with the wrong type of people, kids there are from very poor homes and don’t really share the same culture and values as my kids.” These comments left me perplexed as I had assumed that her own mixed heritage and economic position would have led her to be less categorical on the subject of race and social standing. Instead, her remarks implied the existence of a hybrid conceptual conflict between race, class and culture, some of the intricacies of which I will be discussing as they became more apparent within the school settings I entered during my research. It is due to this apparent conflict that I chose to conduct my investigation in two contrasting socioeconomic contexts; namely the second year of a co-educational private school, St. Mary High and a co-educational government school Nomvula High. In doing so, I examined the different ways in which the shared socio-cultural and socio-economic structures are experienced by youth and reproduced within or influenced by these two educational settings. Ultimately my line of investigation seeks to look at the difference between how students in private and government schooling come to understand and narrate their experiences and sense of being in the world. Through participant observation, i.e. attending lessons and school activities, one on one staff interviews and group student interviews, I was given insight as to the values that are promoted within their respective educational settings, the concerns that are fostered and the thought processes that are triggered, contributing to the conceptualisation of the self. Aysha informed me that I would likely need permission from the Ministry of Education in order to carry out research at a government school whereas it was up to the head teacher’s discretion whether I be allowed access at a private institution. Having familiarised myself with some of the city’s schools beforehand I went through them with her and it turned out that she had been a student at St. Mary High. Her tone was very relaxed and confident as she explained that I would simply need to approach the head mistress whom in all likelihood would have no problem in letting me conduct research. In fact, a couple of days later I was in the head teacher’s office, Mrs Shaw, a white British lady, who received me without appointment and requested a written outline of my intent which I provided. By the start of the following week I was attending classes with the year group of my choice; the form twos, generally aged between thirteen and fifteen. Although Aysha had told me otherwise, I had still not expected it to be that easy though I had done my best to re-assure Mrs Shaw that I would not interfere with the student’s schooling meaning that I had to abandon my intention to hold anthropology workshops as their commitments ran from 08:00 AM till 17:00 PM; their day being divided into two, between morning lessons and compulsory afternoon sporting activities.
5 As a school, St. Mary was very scenic with the entrance to the staff building being surrounded by a flowering garden, full of luscious green shrubbery and grass. The rest of the school was neatly divided into subject blocks, sciences, humanities, languages etc. The classrooms were large but simple; bright with tall ceilings, traditionally set up in rows of desks all facing a large blackboard, comfortably seating up to thirty students. There was a well-stocked library, mostly used by more senior years as a study area, adorned with student made posters on William Shakespeare and Charles Dickens. The rest of the campus was equipped with an outdoor swimming pool, basketball court and two very green rugby and soccer fields. I was surprised at how equally simple it was to gain access to Nomvula High, having expected a foreign researcher to be met with suspicion. As it turned out this was not the case and with Aysha’s help, I found the correct person in the ministry of education whom to submit a short outline of my motivations to and within three days, permission was granted. I had been given a lot of warnings principally from Ellard and St. Mary students about the school, given that it was in a notoriously poor neighbourhood making it a hotspot for crime, particularly theft. It was clear as I entered the neighbourhood, or ‘location’ as it was referred to, that it was indeed underdeveloped and densely populated with people’s houses being small concrete structures, the front of which normally served as a makeshift market stand for electronic accessories or fresh produce. I imagined the school as having a tense atmosphere with the grounds being run down and unkempt. Instead as I walked in I was met, as in St. Mary, by a smartly dressed guard at the gate looking onto a green and grassy courtyard with blooming flowers being watered by a groundsman. The structure of the classroom blocks themselves were also not dissimilar to St. Mary, being of the same size and set- up. They were however crammed over capacity with more than fifty students and very bare classroom walls; the library also being noticeably understocked. The one sports field they had, was a dusty brown colour as watering priority had clearly been given to the front of the school. There was a shortage of chairs and the wooden desks were very worn but as with everything else, that which was available was kept tidy and maintained. Making my way around the school all eyes were on me, unlike St. Mary, I sensed that it was more than a case of simple curiosity; all of a sudden I became very aware of the colour of my skin and was soon familiarised with the Ndebele word makiwa, meaning white person. In spite of living in the second biggest city in Zimbabwe, many children in the school would have only ever seen a non-black person on the rare occasions they went into the town centre. I was therefore the first non-black person that they had ever been in direct contact with. Being of mixed Italian, Chinese and Indian heritage their vision of me left me perplexed as having grown up in Europe I had never been considered as such. I tried to explain this to them however I was met with
6 bewildered stares as they remained unchanged in their opinion, “but look at your hair… your skin compared to mine, you are white.” With this I understood that to them my whiteness was directly proportional to the ‘white’ physical features I had rather than to my racial background. Race was not an insignificant factor at St. Mary either. Although the presence of both black, white and coloured children took the attention off me, amongst themselves there were clear group distinctions. St. Mary had three form two classes; in lessons away from their friends, black and white students naturally sat together and mixed, at break time however there were clear groups of white children separated from the rest of the majority black children although this distinction was much less pronounced amongst boys who integrated a lot through sporting activities. The topic of race is clearly meaningful. Although it is not the principal subject of enquiry, as my research proceeded it became apparent that the narratives recounted by indigenous children resonated most strongly with my topic of investigation reason for which their accounts are more heavily referenced in this study. The element of race distinctions will be addressed as one of the socio-cultural dynamics within the context of the two formal educational structures. It is however, primarily the economic aspect that differentiates St. Mary and Nomvula High, and that allows me to posit them as microsites that represent the hierarchical structures through which broader socioeconomic and sociocultural dynamics are played out. The relevance of such structures in educational settings is noted by many scholars; as linguistic anthropologist, Stanton Wortham’s argues, educational institutions are pivotal players in the formation of society and culture, acting as bodies of authority and principal disseminators of ideology (Wortham, 2008: 39).
1.4- Towards an anthropology of survival
The role of narrative will be central in my thesis, in that it will be the accounts of youth and their educators that will be at the forefront of my representation of events and supportive of my analysis. I take inspiration from anthropologists Elinor Ochs and Lisa Capps in their interpretation of narrative as being that through which the self is expressed and is able to portray the “reflective awareness of being-in-the world, including a sense of one’s past and future” (Ochs & Capps, 1996: 21). Given the multidimensional ideological frameworks of which I posit Zimbabwean society as being comprised of, I find it particularly fitting that their interpretation of narrative allows for the realisation of a multiplicity of partial selves recognised by the narrator as components of a single being (Ibid.: 22). My exploration therefore will be based on the way in which apparent incongruences between partial selves, that inform and are informed by societal structures, are in fact part of an ever-evolving construction of identity allowing for the reconciliation of determined contradictions (Ibid.).
7 I will begin my first chapter by exploring the theoretical principles that support the reason for which education is an important channel through which youth’s formation of the self can be examined. In the context of Zimbabwe, I intend to make reference to the transformative effects of colonialism whereby schooling was significant such that it was a site in which the process of modernisation could be triggered. The practical societal impact and significance of educational structures in both re-asserting and transforming culture and notions of selfhood will be traced by carrying out a genealogically framed analysis. Briefly examining narratives regarding pre-colonial through to post-colonial forms of youth socialisation structures, I will seek to identify some of the consequences of social restructuring, brought about by the changes made by these up to the present day. I present the efficacy of institutionalised modernisation as resulting from the restructuring of Zimbabwean society such that citizens were rendered participant to the modern experiences promoted in the formal organisations of the state, both during and after colonisation. In doing so allowed them to develop and internalise new ‘untraditional’ systems of meaning. This resulted in the creation of distinct identities and collective, ‘modern’ and ‘civilised’ imaginations of the world (Appadurai, 1996: 5). Consequently, I will highlight the systematic undermining of pre- colonial knowledge structures which I identify in the post-colonial context as being a point of conflict between the aim to pursue both modern neo-liberal market goals whilst still promoting indigeneity. The primary framework through which this indigeneity will be explored is that of the southern African philosophy of Ubuntu traditionally associated to the region. I posit that, particularly in the school setting, the existence of such a conflict problematises those elements that contribute to youths’ conceptualisation of the self, such that an ideological struggle is created whereby the suffering or trauma incurred by colonisation has not become a ‘bridge between cultures’, as suggested by anthropologist Joel Robbins (2013: 453), but rather an unresolved point of cultural contention. Robbins argues that anthropology has undergone a shift in focus recognising the discipline as having started from the examination of subjects as the ‘savage other’, a framework that reinforced the binaries produced through the civilising processes of colonialism and Christianisation, which in recent decades became untenable and was replaced with an all- encompassing notion of the ‘suffering subject’ (Ibid.: 448). Moving beyond this latter framework, Robbins rather views the pursuit of “the good’ as being that which unites the study of human cultures in his interpretation of the universally shared goal to overcome the all-encompassing, but contextually specific, notion of suffering (Ibid.). However, Robbins’ understanding of all societies universal goal of pursuing their own version of the good, is complicated by the fact that given the
8 prevalence of oppositional ideologies in any society – e.g., neoliberalism and Ubuntu in Zimbabwe – a clear and socially unifying understanding of the good is difficult to reach. In my ethnographic analysis, I will depict the contrast between the reception I received when first becoming acquainted with the students at the two sites; principally looking at what my initial interactions revealed about the attitudes they have towards the time they spend in school and the value that they attribute to it. Drawing from their accounts, I will determine the similarities and differences in students’ conceptualisations of the purpose of education and the nature of the challenges that they purported to face both inside and outside the schooling environment. From this I deepen my investigation, presenting students’ accounts of the relationships that they have with their peers, what their friendships are based on, and what the sources of antagonism are that strains them. By unravelling the dynamics of these relationships, I uncover the underlining principles that foster these tensions and grievances revealing the practical realisations of the conflict I recognise as existing between traditional and modern neo-liberal ideologies. More directly addressing the subject of the formulation of the self, my third chapter will explore the parameters within which youths’ agency is expressed primarily exploring the disciplining structures and mechanisms that they are subjected to. More specifically, I will outline how youth came to discuss their values and matters of morality, looking at both the scholastic elements and subjectivities that influence their conceptual construction of ‘the good’ (2013: 458). These are significant such that it is through the acquisition of determined values and moral codes, that notions of, what the good is comprised of, are formed. Robbins will be further referenced with regards to his portrayal of the way in which morals and values are fostered whereby he builds on James Laidlaw’s argument against the interpretation of societal structures being responsible for the acquirement of morals such that it disregards the significance of personal reflexive choices (Robbins, 2007: 294). Robbins’ account brings to light the existence of conflicting value spheres, understood the as the significance prescribed to the multiplicity of individual concepts that make up a society, upon which a determined culture is structured. He argues that by exercising freedom of choice, over time, these conflicts are resolved and new stable structures are formed once, though these choices, the dominant sphere succeeds in superseding that which results in being subordinate (Ibid.: 302). With this in mind, I argue that the youth I interacted with in Bulawayo are faced with a stalemate in the struggle between old and new value spheres making it difficult for clear and stable structures to develop. Philosophy professor Pascah Mungwini problematises this phenomenon particularly referring to the Zimbabwean context identifying the existence of an irreconcilable moral pluralism where “the good is not identified with any one particular moral system” (2011: 774).
9 Finally, my last chapter will discuss the narratives constructed by students in their accounts of the experience and rapport that they have with enduring aspects of traditional practices within the context of contemporary modern societal structures. In addition, by looking at the way in which youth discuss their setting and aspirations for the future, I will demonstrate how the struggle persists when trying to define belonging and articulate what they have come to view as being the good and how they intend to achieve it. Within the analysis of these chapters I will show the differences and similarities between how youth from the two school settings manage the respective struggles with which they are faced. I intend to conclude that ultimately regardless of whether a clear conceptualisation of the good is reached, the unifying ideology that is created is one of survival. This is not fuelled by suffering, but rather spawned from the valorisation of resilience; compatible with the present multifaceted societal product of pre-colonial and post-colonial structures and ideologies. As such, I recognise survival as being the defining element of present day Zimbawean youth’s identity that transcends societally antagonistic elements such as race, class or culture.
10 2. Looking from the inside-out
2.1- Situating meaning in education
The structural purpose and societal influence of formal education structures is a topic that has been examined in depth amongst all branches of social sciences. Parallel to the world of academia are those transnationally geared institutions such as the Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA), a branch of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) whose mission is based on promoting “policies that will improve the economic and social well-being of people around the world.”1 The PISA rankings represent the quality of an educational system by measuring data against statistical indicators representing academic performance and demographic equity indicative of a given nations success in promoting the OECD agenda. The underpinning rhetoric linking economic development to education, is similarly promoted by the United Nations’ (UN) 2030 Sustainable Development Goals(SDG) seeking “to wipe out poverty through sustainable development by 2030” 2 partly by ensuring “inclusive and equitable quality education.”2 It is not the link between socioeconomic improvement and education that I intend to bring into question, rather the assessment through which a given educational system is deemed to be positively influencing the wellbeing of its student population. In his critique of post-colonial schooling in Zimbabwe, education sociologist Edward Shizha presents an argument which challenges the neo-liberally framed systems of measurement adopted by institutions such as the UN and OECD. Shizha contends that the Euro-centric model upon which Zimbabwean schooling is based disregards indigenous knowledge. As a result, students are alienated from the experiences and perspectives of indigenous life-worlds, thus making their educational realities contextually inadequate and disenfranchised from broader sociocultural realities. (Shizha, 2006: 21). In line with this critique, anthropologist Carol Worthman proposes an alternative adoption of the Inside-Out and Outside-In dual development model underpinning UN and OECD missions. The logic of this model is such that outside-in investments of society to the individual, in the form of health and education in early life, will in the long run result in a return “through reciprocal gains in lifetime productivity that benefit society as a whole (inside-out).” (Worthman, 2011: 433). In the typical adaptation of the model, units of measurement are determined by an economically driven system of logic whereby monetary investment in health and early education
1 http://www.oecd.org/about/ 2 http://en.unesco.org/education2030-sdg4
11 is deemed necessary in order to increase citizens’ material capability to achieve an acceptable standard of living (Worthman, 2011: 434). Given the subjective nature of determining what an acceptable standard would be, Worthman argues that, rather than being solely driven by economic investment, this model should rather also consider the sociostructural elements that influence the output of human capital and wellbeing that is produced. These elements include opportunity for social mobility as well as choice of, and access to goods that are perceived to provide added value to quality of life (Ibid.). Particularly in relation to early education, Worthman lays out the case for it carrying out a mediatory function between the welfare of the individual and broader social development such that it is aimed at empowering and equipping students with the necessary knowledge to make informed choices that will allow for effective participation in both the local and global social community (2011: 435). It is therefore what this knowledge is comprised of and promotes, that Worthman posits as requiring careful consideration as it is a key component of youth socialisation and determinant for their conceptualisation of what constitutes and what is required to attain a “well lived life” (2011: 440). It is also for this reason that I argue that contextually relevant qualitative aspects, such as the issue of the inclusion of indigenous knowledge, should be considered in the assessment of the quality of an educational system. Such an approach lays out the path for a more qualitatively based analysis than those proposed by the above-mentioned organisations, providing a more closely human centred mode of enquiry and understanding of the function and effect of education. In the case of Zimbabwe, the government’s compulsory education policy has resulted in high literacy rates, but appears to have done little towards providing youth with the sociostructural elements proposed by Worthman such as job opportunities and consequently choice through economic empowerment. When I asked Mrs McQuillan, both a form two parent and French teacher at St. Mary, about the future of students her response was very clear,
“At home right now my motto is Grow and Go. There is nothing for them right now here. Everything is hard, even if you finish at NUST3 or UZ4, you can’t get a job it’s not guaranteed, you’ll sit for another five, ten years and end up doing something you never even trained for so I try to Grow and Go. Get whatever you need to do here in high school and leave.”
At another encounter with two St. Mary mothers Milly and Riya, I asked what would happen once their daughters acquired their diplomas, would they be able to find work in Zimbabwe? Both of
3 National University of Science and Technology 4 University of Zimbabwe
12 them responded firmly, "No". " So, you are both fully expecting your children to go and work abroad?” I asked, “I can imagine that to be tough." Milly began to explain, "Yes we just get them educated … " Her voice broke and trailed off as she became emotional at the thought that it would be difficult to take time off and obtain visas to go and visit them. I couldn’t help but ponder on the fact that these were parents of youth who had the opportunity to consider leaving the country to work or study abroad enabling them to situate the notion of “the good life” outside of Zimbabwe leaving me to question where less economically affluent government school youth placed their prospects for the future. In spite of the apparent ineffectiveness of schooling in helping youth find work in the country, the educational structures in which they find themselves persist in playing a formative role in the conceptual frameworks through which meaning is ascribed to both their immediate lived, and broader imagined, realities. Edward Bruner posits meaning as being integral to an individual’s experience such that it allows for the interpretation and recounting of the past, the reflexive self-awareness of the present and for the imagination of future expectations (Bruner, 1986: 8). Meaning is therefore also the foundation upon which core values are formed, although Burner recognises that values are not necessarily meaningfully connected, resulting in an array of “discords and harmonies” between them (Ibid.: 36). Through the knowledge structures fostered within the educational environment, youth make sense of their subjective experiences and construct the reality, within which they use the systems of meaning they have acquired to make informed choices on how to best navigate within it so as to achieve what they have come to understand as a good life. With this lies the possibility for knowledge structures to be operationalised by the state for the purpose of promoting a determined ideological, political and/or economic agenda; influencing the significance of the good. By examining the interplay between the educational structures through which meaning is disseminated and the mechanisms behind subjective interpretation, I will consider education scholar Linda Graham’s (2007) reflection of modern educational structures being geared towards the formation of the ‘ideal’ citizen. According to both Graham and fellow education scholar Stanton Wortham (2008), these educational structures play a pivotal role in the development of society and culture, acting as bodies of authority and principal disseminators of ideology. Taking inspiration from Foucault’s work on the development of modern state mechanisms in The Archaeology of Knowledge, Graham (2007: 202) goes into particular detail on how prescribed discourse is institutionalised and used to promote desired morals, values and conception of the common good. The disciplining function of educational knowledge systems is expressed through the narratives they disseminate that allow for the regulation of students’ formulation of the self; in
13 order to promote truths that will encourage citizens to comply with the state’s sociocultural and socioeconomic agenda (Ibid.: 203). In spite of the fact that Nomvula is a government school compared to St. Mary which is privately administered, the discourse encountered in both settings alluded to them both having the objective of nurturing socially minded and productive individuals, which would in their perspective, contribute to the development of an ‘ideal’ citizen. In an interview with St. Mary’s headmistress Mrs Shaw, she told me:
“Their schooling is meant to prepare them for life, is not just for university or for a career, is actually meant to be realistic which is why we do their academic, the cultural, the spiritual and sporting so that they are able to go out of function in society and have an understanding of what their contribution should be. So, we want them to go out and have what I would call the value- added… we need to be giving them values and moral codes that allows them to go out to make a difference.”
When asked what he expected from an Nomvula student, the headmaster Mr Nkala gave a similar albeit more pragmatic response,
“I expect students to be well-groomed generally, hard-working. A student who is cultured. Let me give you one example. The University of Zimbabwe in Harare medical school, 90% of the students and doctors are from this school, so this is what we aim for, to produce students who can fit anywhere and be usable, cultured, well-behaved so that at most it benefits them by way of their working environment… By cultured I mean someone who is composed, well behaved generally because there is an element in our ministries motto which says Ubuntu, that’s human. That element is the one that I’m talking about.”
Mrs Shaw’s open-ended and romanticised response reflected a more abstract and universally inclusive notion of an ‘ideal’ citizen whereas Mr Nkala clearly referenced wanting to promote the nation state’s developmental objectives, introducing the culturally specific ideological structure through which this would be sought after, namely via the conceptual framework of Ubuntu. It is this indigenously focused perspective that African linguist Jacob Mapara argues in favour of in his analysis of pre-through to post-colonial education. He champions the effectiveness of traditional forms of Zimbabwen education in relation to the values that it was intended to endorse; namely the wisdom of elders in guiding youth through the “experiences of the past that
14 they should emulate or avoid” with the use of proverbs, riddles, folktales, songs, legends and myths (Mapara, 2009: 142). With this in mind, Mapara views colonial education structures as being “incompatible to an African child’s experience” such that the ‘modern’, neo-liberally driven framework has transformed what Bruner would refer to as the ‘meaning’ of that which is thought of as being a good quality life. As a result, aspirations and expectations for the future have been structurally manipulated (Ibid.). In an Ndebele class at St. Mary for example, the class teacher took the time to explain to me that often white students outperformed black students; this is due to their approach to the subject from a purely academic standpoint. For some black students however, to the subject was attached a stigma related to social status in that their parents did not encourage them to learn the language preferring for their children to only speak English; indicative of the persisting subordination of traditional culture in favour of the pursuit of modernisation (Mhloyi, 1998: 243). Although Nomvula is attended solely by students of indigenous background, the school was founded under colonial rule and has maintained what education scholar Norrel London (2002) denotes as the western humanist educational structure of the time, with the core subjects being Mathematics, English, Science, History and Geography, all of which are officially taught in the English language. Zimbabwe’s ministry of education has explicitly sought to address the concern over cultural loss by advocating the traditional southern African philosophy of Ubuntu. Mungwini supports the integration of the principle of Ubuntu within formal education as a way of addressing what he recognises as being “the moral decadence that seems to have set in and is running through all the strata of [Zimbabwean] society” (Mungwini, 2011: 774). He recognises societal issues as being rooted in the enduring ideologically oppositional, individualist and rationalist ideals promoted by colonialists, acknowledging the Zimbabwean commission’s endorsement of Ubuntu in schools as a way to “help to prepare the young to participate in the global world without losing their Zimbabwean identity” (Ibid.: 777). I posit however, that if this was indeed the foundational philosophy through which pre-colonial society operated, it may be problematic to endorse the sentiment of Ubuntu outside of the functionally significant practices carried out within the context of traditional lifestyles and social organisation. The nature of this communally based philosophy may therefore struggle to realise itself within the modern educational systems geared at producing an economically productive workforce. Without the support of the complementary meaning creating practices carried out within traditional societal structures, certain values and moral frameworks may result in being less socially useful if not incompatible in helping to achieve determined economic goals therefore undermining their relevance within such a context and abstracting Ubuntu from its intended
15 practical function. With this, a contradiction arises within the ideological and economic position promoted by the state, supporting my argument that the formation of identities of Zimbabwean youth is subject to both moral and systematic inconsistencies.
2.2- I am therefore we are
When considering Zimbabwe’s pre-colonial setting, the state’s efforts to produce the ‘ideal citizen’ through a marriage of modernity and tradition is diluted in its significance. This is true such that the geographic region contemporarily known as Zimbabwe, contained multiple ethnic and tribal groups each of which had their own laws and customs enforced outside of the structures of a modern nation state and contemporary notions of citizenship. The transmission of values and culture was carried out at a local level via oral accounts and everyday enactment of customary practises and duties. It is through these practices that the philosophy of Ubuntu was legitimised and sustained in its facilitation of safeguarding the survival of the community by ensuring the appropriate socialisation of youth (Maunganidze, 2016: 2). Polygamy and worship of ancestral spirits for instance, was a common aspect of various tribal cultures as were particular ritualistic customs normally used for healing purposes, which later became denoted as witchcraft (Stambach, 2010: 366). In origin, the philosophy of Ubuntu is based on the practice of traditional customs and ways of life, enshrined within the structures of African communalism (Mungwini, 2011: 780). From this standpoint, it is defined as being a common moral position whereby “a person is a person among other persons” (Mangena, 2016: 67). Ubuntu also provides a specific existential framework though which the self can be conceptualised, the essence of which is best captured by philosopher John Mbiti’s statement “I am because we are, since we are therefore I am” (1969: 215). The restructuring effects of colonialism referred to by Mapara altered sociocultural trajectories and priorities such that the drive for western modernisation models saw the development of urban centres resulting in the erosion of traditional family structures through which determined values were customarily transmitted. In present-day Zimbabwe, the economically driven national development narrative paired with the apparent lack of internal opportunity has contributed to the further disintegration of household organisation across all strata of society but primarily within the urban setting. Ida, the accountant at St. Mary told me that since her arrival in 2008 there had been a consistent increase in the amount of school fees that arrived from abroad as more and more parents left the country for work, leaving their children behind with relatives or in boarding houses. Similarly, during my interview with students at Nomvula, many of the students described their living situation as being headed by older siblings
16 or other family members as their parents, in search of income, were forced to move elsewhere in the country or migrate to South Africa. Consequently, in such cases the school setting by default becomes the principal authoritative site of value formation and cultural acquisition. Speaking with students in both schools, those of indigenous heritage were easily able to tell me which tribe they belonged to. When I asked about the difference between the tribes however I would receive different versions of the same answer, “the languages are different but otherwise it’s the same.” I always pushed for more information about tribal customs; out of the twelve groups that I interviewed, only one respondent was able to elaborate. Joshua was a thirteen- year-old boy at St. Mary, I had been eager for him to participate as he immediately stood out as having a strong mischievous but jovial character to which his classmates responded positively. He explained, “It’s a complete different language and ways of calling family members. In Ndebele, if my older brother has a daughter, I am her uncle and in Shona, if my older brother has a daughter, she is my aunty.” “What about the things they do?” I asked, “Are there things that they do differently from one another?” to which he responded vaguely, “I was told that in Ndebele, to show that they are Ndebele, they put a huge ear ring, they put a hole in their ear but no one really does that anymore.” Not getting much definitive information, I broadened my questions asking about how Zimbabwe compared to other countries, “Is there something that you think Zimbabweans do better than other places?” Another boy in the group, Tinashe responded, “Yes, culture. Us in Zimbabwe we take culture to the max, like the weddings for example – they are crazy.” Joshua expanded, “Like in other weddings that I watch on TV they have the ceremony and you may kiss the bride and all that and then they just do slow dancing. But then here, there is singing, the bride’s parents come and talk and they dance and it’s not slow dancing.” Other than this however, I found there to be little interest or knowledge in traditional practices. The extent of cultural disassociation was made apparent to me when interviewing Nomvula students who in their vague accounts of traditional customs, expressed disdain for blood rituals in which an animal would be sacrificed and the blood drunk by the participants. This anecdote is particularly relevant in that the aspect of blood is seen to be symbolically significant in the representation of Ubuntu to the extent that a society is characterised by those peoples who share the same blood. As such, the connection created through blood also denotes the sharing of societal responsibilities and experiences such as praise and blame (Mangena, 2016: 67). With this becomes clear the effectiveness of the restructuring mechanisms implemented during colonialism. They not only systematically re-arranged societal structures, but also significantly eroded and supplanted long-standing knowledge systems and ideologies in a relatively short period of time.
17 2.3- Cultural amnesia
Playing the tourist in Bulawayo city centre, I often walked past the long parade of souvenir vendors in front of City Hall. Alongside the keychains and various soapstone carvings of hippos, lions, crocodiles and giraffes, were colourful and intricately beaded bracelets, head dresses and paintings depicting warriors and hunters. Accompanied by Aysha, she would smile as I picked up an item for inspection; noticing her amusement one day I asked her why she reacted that way, “I used to make these you know,” referring to the head dresses. “A lot of the materials come from South Africa, it’s very easy. They are just for tourists anyway as the indigenous people don’t really wear them anymore, and those paintings, it’s so silly they are Maasai warriors, they have nothing to do with Zimbabwe.” I had been completely prepared to be exploited in my status as a foreign visitor by being sold overpriced imitation artefacts, but as Aysha continued in her account of how or where the souvenirs were made, a deep sense of disillusionment swept over me with the thought of the degree to which they were disassociated to the Zimbabwean context to the extent that another nation’s cultural imagery was being borrowed from. As I picked out trinkets for my friends amongst a swarm of fervently competitive vendors, I had expected to be metaphorically courted with tales of the processes of traditional artisanship or the meaning behind the symbolism being depicted on a tapestry or wooden bowl. Instead, they simply appealed to me to buy from them as a favour, as if I were making a charitable donation to a good cause; reducing my purchase to the type of marketing tool intended to symbolise the struggle that is being sought to be overcome. The corrosive effects of the socioeconomic hardships being faced by Zimbabweans were continuously being confirmed by people I met on a daily basis. The dairy farmer, Vera, from whom we would buy our milk, was a white lady in her seventies. Aysha informed me that years ago she used to breed racing horses. She went in to tell me that Vera had been the best breeder in the region but with the arrival of the country’s economic crisis the market soon dried up. As she explained Aysha could not hide her pity “She’s not married and now the cows are now her only income, it’s not easy at her age.” In school, the teachers I spoke to would tell me about how students couldn’t afford basic resources. In my interview with David, a Design and Technology teacher at Nomvula, he explained, “A pencil costs a dollar, but you will find that in class students don’t have anything to write with or on, so they share amongst themselves because they don’t have the money to even buy a pencil.” St. Mary school children were not exempt as the French teacher Mrs McQuillan told me, a lot of resource issues were dealt with in a communal manner:
“We try to network because I know now in school we have this thing that children should provide their own textbooks to try and help or ease the school’s burden because there are not many right
18 now in the classroom…Parents ask why aren’t we using the latest edition of this and that, and we were like, we can only go so far considering the economic situation and you have got to get the books from outside of the country and it’s expensive so we said ok, let’s get our own text books. Some children can afford and others can’t so sometimes we network, do you have this or do you have that.”
As my research progressed, I began to build a picture of the deeper significance behind the ‘struggle’ that I saw as being represented by my souvenir purchases, a struggle that went beyond economic hardship and that had triggered the uncomfortable feeling I had experienced. The first moment of reflection was triggered by a History lesson at St. Mary. The teacher, Mrs Ngwabi an energetic black woman in her forties, began the class with the students outside the classroom. She threw a handful of small sweets into the air that the students then had to compete for. She had made it a point to not have enough in order to insight a sense of urgency for everyone to grab a sweet before they all finished; this is how she introduced the topic of the Scramble for Africa. The students appeared to respond well to the exercise, sitting with their textbooks open in front of them, they were fully engaged in the discussion and seemed capable to grasp and interpret the concepts of the scramble, imperialism and colonialism. From a swarm of hands one of the girls, Abigail was chosen and confidently answered, “Colonialism is when you take something and you give it your own influence.” Mrs Ngwabi expanded, “Yes, it has both a political and social impact.” It was the next question however that left the class in silence:
“What does it mean to be civilised? Africans were seen as savage and barbaric with their practices and religions but they could not be called uncivilized as they had clear social structures. Did you know that slavery for instance, existed in Africa long before the Europeans arrived? Capturing slaves was common practice between warring tribes. Who has been to the Christmas Pass in Mutare? That was built by slaves.”
“What goes around comes around then” mumbled Declan, one of the white students. No one reacted and Mrs Ngwabi appeared not to have heard the comment but instead was taken aback when no one in the class seemed familiar with the winding mountain pass to which she referred, “I am sure most of you have been to places in South Africa and not seen your own country which has many beautiful things to offer.” She went on to reel off several other cultural sites to which only a handful of students had been to visit.
19 The atmosphere in the classroom had now changed; students stared blankly at the teacher. Information on pre-colonial Zimbabwean civilisation was not included in their textbooks for them to be able to construe a comment from. What struck me was that in spite of the fact that the large majority of the class was of indigenous background, no one could offer any personal knowledge on the discussion. Only Suzie, another white student in the class commented, “I’m not being racist Miss but before white people came there was nothing here, it was just black.” Again, there was no reaction from the class and this time Mrs Ngwabi clearly ignored the comment. The lesson continued with the class being made to analyse an image in their textbook that had been published in a German socialist magazine during the colonial era. The sketch was of a black man being held in a vice which was being kept in place and tightened by a soldier. The man had gold falling out from the bottom of the vice into a bucket. A priest was standing on the side preaching with the bible open as another man poured whisky in to the black man's mouth. She used this image to discuss the divisive use of alcohol and Christianity in the processes of colonisation, “I am a Christian and I am grateful to the whites for bringing the Bible but the holy book was misused as a manipulative tool.” She explained that missionaries had arrived before colonialism and had been widely unsuccessful in converting the native population.
“The tribal chiefs were accepting of the missionaries because they wanted to establish trading ties with Europe. The only people who converted to Christianity at that time were captured slaves and outcasts who wanted to distinguish themselves from the ruling authority. Although some missionaries sought to protect local cultures, others welcomed Colonialism as they saw it as the only way to allow for the spread of Christianity… although the advantages of colonialism may outweigh the disadvantages, it does not make it right.”
A similar narrative was portrayed at Mpopopma with the students there being taught about the same period of history. In the class I attended, the teacher went through the pros and cons of the arrival of the British; the pros being the structures that were built and again, the introduction of Christianity. She described how Lobengula, the Ndebele chief at the time, had been tricked into signing away the rights to his land because he was illiterate and was lied to by his advisors who had told him that he was entering into an exchange whereby he would grant exclusive rights to the British to mine in his territory in exchange for gold and weapons. This fact led to the teacher proclaiming, “Although Lobengula was cheated by his advisors, he was also not cheated because he had a lust for the precious goods that he wanted”. The phrasing alluded to assignment of fault
20 on moral grounds allowing for the communication of the idea that the responsibility for the occurrence of colonialism was to be shared by the native population. This representation of events left me perplexed in its recognition of cultural loss but appreciation for the augmentation of social arrangement and ideology principally with respect to religion. The narratives recounted by the teachers and anecdotes referred to by students, demonstrated the awareness of a past which was starkly different to present-day society in structure and belief system. However, in spite of the unsolicited ousting of what once was, there appeared to be little memory of, or love lost for the sociocultural elements of that time. With regards to the effects of colonial education systems, London recognises a link between the internal curricular and pedagogic practices and external structures whereby education systems were used to nurture the acquisition of culture, norms and knowledge forms in order to produce agents who would “contribute to the ideological hegemony of dominant groups”, i.e. the British colonisers (London, 2002: 53-54). This meant promoting western civility and cultural heritage through subjects that encouraged the advancement of the humanist tradition the values of which comprised of “knowledge of ‘the truth’, love of ‘beauty’, and cultivating the habit of doing ‘good’”, all of which contributed to the enduring dependence on the super-imposed culture (London, 2002: 55). It is this mechanism of the re-education of values through manufactured reliance that was being represented in the depiction of the restrained African man during the history class at St. Mary. The fact that the man was being restrained portrayed the forcible prescription of these values; The bible representing the enforced submission to Christianity, the liquor, the creation of dependence and the extraction of gold, the exploitation of peoples and resources.
2.4- Uncovering the mechanisms of social transformation
I view the conflicting narratives around which youths’ ‘selves’ are formed to be that which constitutes the ‘struggle’ that they contend with (Ochs & Capps, 1996: 21). It is through this lens that educational institutions have been particularly significant in their function as bureaucratic micro sites of knowledge legitimisation, production and transference around which the boundaries of broader sociocultural structures are defined and reproduced, hence the success of colonialism (De Rada, 2007: 215). I also argue however that the creation and reproduction of culture and meaning is not a unilateral top-down imposition of power, as the role of schooling holds further importance in its function as a ‘theatre’ for identity formation and ultimately for the promotion of social change (De Boeck & Honwana, 2005: 2). The process of identity formation amongst youth represents a moment of cultural transition whereby in order to establish selfhood, the legitimacy of subjective truths is negotiated by challenging pre-existing knowledge structures through their
21 own discourse and embodied performance of the self (Turner, 1986: 12). It is in this way that the theatrical element of schooling comes about, in that youth use it as a platform upon which to experiment and negotiate into existence various characteristics of themselves by confronting them with others. London refers to this process of compromise as “politics of official knowledge.” (London, 2002: 55). In this process, new meanings and cultural realities are introduced and it is therefore via this intersubjective exchange that youth can be recognised as being creative agents of sociocultural transformation (LeVine, 2011: 428). As such, the formative impact of the ideologies promoted within a given educational system can be examined by looking at the culture and values that are produced. This production is dependent on youths’ reflexive expression of agency in the context of differently situated and structured educational entities. Through this understanding, this chapter examines the role that formal education structures in Zimbabwe has played and plays in influencing youths’ formulation of their sense of being. I have sought to demonstrate this by examining the ideological heritage upon which their present-day subjective realities are built, to then be able to contextualise how and what sociocultural, political and economic grievances are expressed and experienced in the respective institutions. Building on this framework will allow me to confront the two sites by scrutinising the unique ways in which these socioeconomically stratified institutions impact student’s development of selfhood and identity. Consequently, my ethnographic analysis will present the distinct cultural factors and contextually determined logic through which their life choices are devised. In doing so, I will be able to make explicit the different ways in which the societal mechanisms of Worthman’s ‘outside’ influence the ‘inside’ subjectivities of individuals (2011: 433) depending on the content and structure of the educational system in which they find themselves.
22 3. Connecting parallel realities of public and private schooling
3.1- Who is this Makiwa?
“School is our first home, we spend so much time here,” said Miriam during my first week at St. Mary. Ndebele class had been cancelled that day to fit in a library orientation session, teaching the students about the different research resources available. I sat around a large square table with five girls, Eileen, Charlize, Suzie, Dani, and Miriam, most of whom looked quite bored, Eileen explained that she had used the library quite a lot the year before to borrow books, “I like adventure books but there is not much here, the library is pretty outdated, they need to get more”. The rest of the table agreed, “Yeah, we need more variety,” said Dani, a petite coloured girl with a mousey voice who whispered her words when she spoke. The class was informal enough for me to engage in conversation whilst the librarian called students up table by table to show them how to use the Encyclopaedia Britannica collection. This is how I was first able to familiarise myself with St. Mary’s form twos who up till then had only seen me sitting in their class, taking notes and walking around the school, finally they had the chance to interact with me. My performance in that moment was crucial as it would determine what would be communicated about me to other students and ultimately the amount or type of information that I would receive during my time there. I felt the pressure as I had noticed students suspiciously glancing over at me when I took notes. I had not been given any introduction so they knew nothing about why I was amongst them; was I a spy, there to report bad behaviour? Very politely albeit a bit abruptly, Suzie asked, “May I ask where you are from?” I explained that I had arrived from Amsterdam but that I had grown up in London. “I knew that already you know, I could tell” announced Eileen, “That’s because I used to live there.” Charlize continued the inquisition, “Are you here to join the school, our class?” Though their curiosity I was able to go into detail about what I was doing and as I answered more of their questions about my age and background I eventually had the opportunity to ask them about their school and what they thought about it. Leila began, “Well I get up at around six thirty and with sports and homework, my day ends at ten, there is just too much sport.” Three of the girls nodded in agreement. By then I had been in Bulawayo for a little over two weeks, the environment was all very new to me so simply walking in the town centre through vegetable stands, houseware and electrical stores had been sufficient to curb any boredom. There was no “nice” part of town where one might imagine young private school children might meet up and not having seen one, the students confirmed that the city’s cinema had also been shut down leaving me to question what students did outside of St. Mary. It became clear that school took most of their time as even the week ends
23 were often occupied with scholastic events or sporting competitions with other institutions, however the curiosity as to how they spent their free time remained. This is not to say that government school children on the other hand were the ones who occupied the city centre as I came to know at Nomvula, that they seldom went to the centre of town unless accompanying an adult on an errand. Its purely trade centred environment was equally unadapt for them to be in, and the ice cream and pizza establishments cost a lot more than they could afford. As I drove through the city during the weekend I often noticed government school children walking together in their uniforms indicating that similarly to St. Mary, their school commitments also extended to Saturday and Sunday. As such, the centrality of the school setting was equally apparent at Nomvula where lessons also began early at seven thirty. During my time there however I sensed that students’ interaction with their school setting was a lot more self- constructed as opposed to the strict top-down dictation of time management enforced at St. Mary. Once classes finished at twelve fifteen, students had little if not, no compulsory extracurricular commitments save from attending a general assembly every Wednesday; classrooms needed to be cleared out for the other half of the school’s over two thousand students, who began their day in the afternoon session. For those who were interested, after school student-run clubs were available, a few of which my core group of interlocutors were eager to take me to. My presence at Mopopoma was met with a flurry of tense excitement. I had a strong feeling of being observed when I first walked into the classroom trying to squeeze my way to the back of the overcrowded room. When the bell rang to signal for break time I remained in my seat greeting each student who made eye contact with me with a simple “hello” and a smile. I began asking them for their names and gradually more and more people approached me as I became their direct subject of study. As more students took an interest in me their confidence grew as now that they were in a large group they all stood very close, encircling me whilst my back was against the wall, engulfing me in a sea of wide eyes and smiling faces. Both girls and boys appeared eager to listen to what I had to say but only with half an ear as they were busy inspecting my long hair seeming not to be able to resist reaching over to touch it. “Your hair is so beautiful…” “Do you sing?... and dance?” “Look at your skin, it’s so smooth, you need to be careful not to ruin it in this sun”. Amongst them was Belinda, a tall girl with a big personality and an authoritative presence in the class, particularly amongst a specific group of students. I was not aware of this at the time, but it was because of her that some students stayed behind after school to keep me company and show me around. “I need to be able to speak to you guys, but it would have to be after school because I can’t interrupt your lessons” I told her after having explained why I was there. “Don’t worry, they’ll come. All you need to do is ask them and they will stay behind” she replied with a confident
24 grin. With all the students in class, girls and boys, wearing uniforms and having the same shaved haircut, I obviously stood out. I got the sense that, more than at St. Mary, my presence was a novelty especially since there was not one white or coloured student or member of staff to be seen. My much lighter complexion meant that I was the only source of racial diversity. The texture of my hair further enhanced this fact and my personal choice of hair style embodied the expression of individuality which they later came to communicate their desire for. I came to understand that I represented more than just a new personality in their school environment, but rather an all- encompassing symbol for a reality that they had very little contact with.
3.2- Idle hands and productive play
“Today there is debate club. There is also chess club” I was told when I asked what Belinda and her friends would be doing after school. “What about sports? Are there any sports clubs?” I asked. “We can play volleyball” replied Belinda. Having enjoyed bonding with the St. Mary girls over hockey practice I thought it might have been a good idea to do the same at Mopopma and agreed that I would bring my sports kit the next day to play. That day instead we carried on to debate club. I wasn’t sure what to expect but we walked into an empty classroom with only a couple of other students already sitting there. With me were Belinda, Daniel, Nomard, Nesta, Roselin and Ona; that was the entirety of the attendees. Two older boys stood at the front of the class and one at a time began an improvised speech. When the first boy began, I realised that there was no particular message or meaning to what he was saying as he rhythmically strung sentences together referencing the concept of ‘life’, engaging me in what I can only equate to spoken word poetry. I sat there amazed at the fluidity with which he construed his words but no one else seemed to be listening; people were chatting amongst themselves, walking in and out of the room. Belinda broke my trance as I found her towering over me all of a sudden with a packet of hot chips in hand. “These are for you.” I was shocked. The gesture was unexpected as at St. Mary I had bought the students chips to entice them into spending time with me; the reversal of circumstance was a further indication to my raised status in the government school. We had been there for no longer than fifteen minutes; the club turned out to be very informal and unstructured. I sensed the group’s boredom so I let myself be lead out to the chess garden. This was no other than the dusty area outside, in-between the two main classroom blocks where students sat around round concrete tables and played on thin plastic chess mats. This activity was a lot better attended as I would see crowds of students playing every day. This pattern of informality continued on when I eventually played volleyball. There was no net, we simply volleyed the ball to each other in a circle on the dry field under the hot afternoon sun. I was the only one in sports clothes and
25 people left and joined the group haphazardly. I gathered that students stayed in school voluntarily, but rather than simply hanging out, they seemed to value having a constructive purpose to their time there, either remaining to do their homework or to practice a skill. This fact resounds with Mpara’s depiction of pre-colonial knowledge systems where youth were instilled with a sense of responsibility whereby they were encouraged not to waste time on activities that have no value (Mpara, 2009: 3). This attitude however, also complements the neo-liberal framework driven towards efficiency and productivity for the purpose of achieving economic success. When I asked what they enjoyed doing in their spare time outside of school the common answer was, “I like to read.” “I am writing a novel” said Roselin, “so is she,” she continued, pointing to Ona. “A few students in our class are writing books, mine is a romance, I have about two hundred pages.” Not much else was added in terms of leisure time other than watching television at home, the content of which resonated in Roselin’s story that she eventually let me read. It of a young girl in Zimbabwe working as a waitress at a Korean owned hotel, finding love with the noblest one of the owner’s three sons. Speaking to students, particularly the girls, they told me of their fascination with the beauty they saw in colourful Indian fashion and the sweetness expressed by male East Asian characters that appeared on the shows broadcast on national television. Whilst listening to the giddy accounts of the teenage girls, I struggled to reconcile the relatively frivolous topic and light-hearted tone of the conversation with the image that I had been given of the downcast background of government school children and the poor state of their educational environment. Although the classrooms were indeed bare and facilities extremely limited, the students took me around the school with pride. Furthermore, they appeared to have little grievance with the basicness or inexistence of certain recreational activities instead they quite happily spoke to me about each other’s achievements. On more than one occasion I would find myself in a group and someone would start with the phrase, “You see this one…” continuing to “…she is very good at chess, and this one, oh, she can sing.” “This one, he is good at maths and she, her English is good.” This is not to say that Nomvula students were without complaint, yet it was not a predominant aspect of their demeanour which came across as being more inclined to overlook and overcome material shortcomings in favour of capitalising on the resources that were available to them. When questioning one group about the school in an interview session one of the boys explained, “you see they say that in Bulawayo there are two schools. There is Nomvula high ….” Knowing where he was going with his sentence the rest of the group joined in in unison, “… and then there are all the rest.” By this I understood that they were trying to tell me that all other schools were insignificant in their eyes. Monica added, “Yes, it’s the best, the pass rates are high.” Their positive
26 outlook was further reflected by the way in which certain students spoke about their approach to their lessons; said Esther: “English is my best subject and I love it, even in class I can pass and participate. Today I was participating in class but I don’t say that I am the best because I don’t know about others, but I do my best to improve.” Conversely, my account of my first direct encounter with St. Mary students alludes to a different relationship with schooling, one tainted with a sense of resentment towards the amount of time it dictated in their lives. Curious to know what else they would rather be doing, whilst still in the library, I questioned them on how they managed their social life inside and outside of school. “When I want to relax I read, I like to read, otherwise I pray” said Eileen. Dani shuffled her chair closer to me and leaned in, “I go to the gym, I have a trainer but don’t write that down, don’t tell anyone.” “I just wriggle my toes” added Charlize a little sarcastically, not knowing what else to say. She had recently joined the school. Although she was born in Zimbabwe, she had grown up in South Africa,
“I moved back here with my mum because my parents got divorced, she wants me to do more sports but that means that I will be at school till at least six thirty. I would love to go back there [South Africa]. There is nothing to do here apart from home and school. There, there are shopping malls, arcades. Here it’s so boring.”
Once I started conducting group interviews, I asked other students the same question assuming that given the complaints I had heard about the lack of things to do, students would spend time at each other’s houses. Some of them did but most distinctly amongst the white students whose parents were friends meaning that they saw each other by default. Overall, free time was spent with relatives or amongst small tight knit social circles, with one girl explaining her parents’ concerns with socialising being based on safety:
“Parents are very protective, especially these days with rape cases, kidnapping. So especially my parents, when I was invited to Miriam’s house, they said that we don’t know the parents so you’re just going there for a day, you’re not going there for a sleepover because we don’t know what that is, we don’t know what they do at night, we don’t know who they are, like their character.”
This gave me a sense that outside of school, there was a strict policing of the people children socialised with. Particularly for St. Mary students, the school gave them the opportunity to
27 transgress the restrictions normally imposed on them at home. For example, when I asked about racism in and out of school and one black student explained:
“The racism part is because some parents, white people’s parents, might hate blacks but their kids act as if they are their brothers and sisters. I have noticed this with Benjamin. He is one of my best friends he always hangs around with me but his parents don’t want him to do that.”
3.3- The key to success
What I found to be most revealing in the group interviews were the disagreements students had amongst each other with respect to the questions I asked them about school and the values that they attached to it. It is within these differences and personal reflexions that I locate the expression of agency in its direct confrontation with the components of the structure within which it finds itself (Bruijn et al., 2007: 2). In their discussions students shared their thoughts and frustrations with the school and its actors sometimes presenting ideas that were in conflict with those of their peers. In other instances, they revealed shared grievances over the constraints that they felt were being imposed on them, constructing a collective narrative of a desire for change and concrete push for an alternative status quo (Ibid.: 7). Their agency can be seen to be expressed by examining the content of the accounts of their dissatisfaction with what is, in relation to what they wish there to be. As such, the mechanisms behind the conceptualisation of being can be better understood in the exploration of the vocalised formulation of the ‘processes of becoming’ (Ibid.: 6). The effort to ‘become’ can also be seen as the driving force behind Robbins’ idea that given the universal, albeit contextually formed, concept of suffering, societies strive towards achieving progress by collectively pursuing culturally constructed notions of the good for the purpose of attaining what they have come to understand as being a well lived life (Robbins, 2013: 457). In this model, agency and structure can be seen to interact such that an individual’s reflexive choices are made within the parameters of a pre-determined understanding of what values and principles determine and lead to the acquisition of the good. Given the disagreements that arise between students as a result of these reflexive choices, I question the universal applicability of Robbins’ ‘pursuit of the good’, particularly referring to the assumption of the existence of a clearly defined notion of the good in every society.
On the surface, in the educational context of present-day Zimbabwe a general consensus does appear to exist as to the role of education in such ‘pursuit of the good’, whether in private or government schools. Despite their economically stratified social positions, many societally
28 significant associations can still be drawn between the private and government schools in question, including the broader socio-political and social-economic context in which they are situated, their near universal Christian self-identification and the predominantly indigenous population of which they are comprised. In both settings, I found there to be overall accord amongst students as to the value and purpose of education principally being centred around being able to have access to better opportunities in the future that will enable them to find work. “I come to school for my education so that later on when I’m out of my schooling I can find a job” said Nhlanhla, a St. Mary student with his classmate going on to directly attribute his education with being able to live a good life saying, “I come to school so that I can have a good education and live well…because if I don’t learn then I can’t work and if I can’t work then I can’t earn.” Similarly, Esther at Nomvula explained, “School is important for us so that you can earn a living and we can be able to do our things on our own, because if you don’t want school you’ll be like someone who pushes a goat kart. If you don’t pass you won’t be able to help your children.” In a separate interview one boy told me, “It is important because without school you can’t get a good job and you can’t survive without a job.” The focal point being communicated was that it was imperative to be able to economically sustain oneself and one’s family. What was less clear was where students viewed ‘the good’ to be situated and of what it comprised as their ambitions appeared to be determined by assuring general survival as opposed to a particular lifestyle or way of life. It is at this point of convergence between acquired potential and realised achievement that I posit the crisis of the pursuit of the good to be located. What remained unexplained was the way in which students envisioned the path towards securing an income; the sociostructural path that Worthman indicated as being necessary for assuring economic empowerment. Clarity in their vision of this life path seemed to fade once questioned about their plans immediately after completing their education. What was apparent however was their awareness of the uncertainty that they faced being in Zimbabwe. I normally began group sessions by asking about the country. One St. Mary student described the situation by saying,
“Being a Zimbabwean it’s mostly a struggle, it’s not that nice to be known as a Zimbabwean…instead of people wanting to live in Zimbabwe, people are moving away to other countries because the economy is so bad. No jobs. I’ve got cousins that are at home, they are sitting they have got degrees but there are just no jobs out here.”
29 This narrative resonated at Nomvula with one student stating,
“Zimbabwe is good in education and things like that but it’s not that great. You can learn and get a certificate right, but what will you do with it? There is no employment and the only way that you can be free in Zimbabwe is to get a scholarship and get a job outside country.”
Although most students agreed with these affirmations, they were not unchallenged. Two people in particular stood out, Tafadzwa, a boy at St. Mary and Tengi, a girl at Mopopma. They served as the voice of hope for opportunity and possibility within the country. Tafadzwa’s interpretation was very pragmatic,
“Obviously, some people are running away to let’s say South Africa, from Zimbabwe. Of course, Zimbabwe has its problems but so does South Africa. It’s not like we are running away from somewhere bad, horrible, extreme, into paradise that paradise also has sunset.”
Tengi came across as a strong ambassador for the country, so much so that she repeatedly clashed with her fellow classmates on topics such as religion, race and politics. In spite of this clash and her being greatly outnumbered in her opinions, her strong debating skills were appreciated and respected by her fellow classmates, giving her the opportunity to present her clearly well thought out and informed arguments,
“Zimbabwe is a good country, it is just that people don’t really like the country. They say that there are no jobs in Zimbabwe and they say that the economy is not really good but we are the ones to develop the nation so I wouldn’t really encourage people to go overseas or out of the country to look for jobs. They must create jobs here in this country. It should be people from America, from Nigeria coming to work in Zimbabwe, not Zimbabweans wishing to go and work in America, going to work in South Africa.”
There was a strong sense that amongst themselves, students gave each other ample space to voice their subjective introspections. This indicates that it is within this context that the expression of agency is most prevalent such that students have the freedom to voice their varied opinions without the fear of repercussion or of being judged.
30 3.4- Things could be better
Although similarities can be drawn between opinions formulated in both schools, I sought to understand whether or how the distinct structure and content of their respective settings influenced the construction and utilisation of values and morals that Robbins attributes as being the key building blocks for the formulation of “the good” (Robbins, 2013: 457). “We try to do as much as we can to help an individual child achieve their potential whatever that looks like” told me Mrs Shaw at the exit interview I had with her at the end of my time at St. Mary. On hearing this I couldn’t help but smile to myself as my mind flashed back to the comments made by the students I spoke to. “I come to school to learn and also to learn about what my ability is. To achieve the goals that I have set for myself” said Gabriel. Another student told me, “I come to school to learn about myself so then I can be the better of myself.” The individual cantered approach, typically attributed to neoliberalist ideology, was further highlighted in the teaching style Mrs Shaw sought to promote: “It’s actually about different learning styles and how do we manage that… it’s actually about understanding, so looking around a room of students and understanding what each one needs.” These comments demonstrated a synchrony between the sentiment that was promoted and the positive value that students attribute to it. In fact, when speaking of the elements of their schooling that they most appreciated it transpired that they were situated in those instances in which the school was seen to be assisting them to achieve their personal ambition. Abigail: “I personally come to school to reach my dream of being the youngest female doctor to discover a cure for cancer.” When talking about the importance of peer and teacher relationships one boy articulately explained,
“At St. Mary our relationships with friends and teachers are better because they relate to your needs. They know where you go wrong and they know what you need in order to succeed and they are also kind to you so you have got a better and more friendly environment to work in and to be kind then in other schools which are all about serious. Because if you don’t interact with your teacher then you could fail because if you hate your teacher and then you can hate the subject and once you hate the subject then you will fail.”
Conversely their principal frustrations were expressed by those who felt that this expectation was not met or fell short. Aysha had been right; much emphasis was placed on sports making it a key area of contention as some students expressed their desire for the sporting programme to be improved whilst others compared their curriculum to that of competing schools and envied the more academically focused structure that they had. The main concern however was
31 quality. Whether an individual’s focus was on sports or academics, they all expressed a sense of entitlement and high expectation in their standard of education given the economic cost incurred by their parents. Tafadzwa: “School fees are in the one thousandth and something …and you know sometimes you wonder where all that money is going to because there are a lot of things lacking at the school.” There was a feeling of disillusionment in their understanding that they had been miss sold a product. Tafadzwa went on,
“This year we had to buy our own textbooks and some other, even government schools don’t buy textbooks it’s rare. My mum told me that when they were signing up she took me to St. Mary because she didn’t want any stress. The fact that provide everything books, stationery but unfortunately now they are failing to do that. So they are promising that they will provide all that but now they are going back on the promises.”
This issue of school fees was expressed on several occasions in separate interviews where students recognised the struggle being faced by their parents in order to have the money to pay for their education much of which was derived from the country’s precarious economic conditions. Nhlanhla: “The economy is poor… it affects our parents like when you’re trying to get paid and not everyone is going to get for fees to come to these expensive schools.” The knowledge of this further aggravated their frustrations in what they saw as the school’s shortcomings and misuse of funds, Judith:
“They could stop wasting their money on useless things and by us books, I saw that they bought a Jeep and yet they already have a big truck. They are demanding that we buy expensive books and yet they can by a car because they are charging us so much school fees yet we have teachers we don’t even need like for one subject you have five teachers.”
Tanya continued, “They have so many sports teachers, they think of sports before education.” Once again, the topic of sports arose; form two students were obliged to participate in all sporting activity much to the frustration of those who preferred to focus on other subjects. Here there was a divide between those students who aspired to be sportsmen and sportswomen and those who principally wanted to be doctors, engineers or lawyers. These professions meant success, and for some, this success was necessary not to ensure survival, but in order for them to re-pay their parents for having put them through school.
32 3.5- Paying to prove friendships
It is here that family values seemed to come into play as a girl, Tadiwa said, “My grandad before he passed away, he had a talk with me and told me that I should be really grateful of everything that my parents did for me and I should try and pay them back.” Abigail also mentioned, “In the future I will be living with my parents helping them in any way I can because they have done a lot for me.” What needed to be reconciled was the realisation of their personal ambitions with their ‘duty’ to give back, a value that was expressed to me by several black students. This reflects what African studies professor Miriam Grant views as being a typical trait in the traditional African context such that, “childhood is not perceived and conceptualized in terms of age but in terms of inter-generational obligations of support and reciprocity” (Grant, 2003: 413). Despite the complaints received, upon asking students whether they would change their school, the overwhelming majority responded with a resounding “no”. With that question, the future was inconsequential as what it really came down to was their present happiness which for them was dependent on the friendships that they had made and that they were not willing to sacrifice. “I personally didn’t want to come to this school,” said Kuenga. “What changed your mind?” I asked. “The friends I made.” Similarly, when I asked why he came to school, Oliver candidly responded, “for my friends.”
“I wouldn’t change my school, I mean I would and would not. I would change my school because I miss friends in my old school, they were my first friends there but I also wouldn’t change because of I wouldn’t find the same Ona, I wouldn’t find the same Nesta, I wouldn’t find the same Roselin, Ratidzo and also there is only one Uthani in this world. She is one-of-a-kind.”
This is how Belinda responded at Nomvula when I asked her if she would change her school. Separate from the fact that as opposed to St. Mary, students at Nomvula were proud of their school, friendship remained a key factor of importance in their lives. Having said this however the friendship groups at Nomvula were a lot more distinct with students reporting the existence of bitter jealousies that sometimes become violent. When bringing up the subject of friendships in all the group interviews, the main issue revolved around what was interpreted as a sense of superiority by those students who I was told felt that others were below them. This is where economic factors once again played a part. In one session I asked, “so, are you all friends in your class?” to which Esther explained, “no, they want to be high and they say that you are low.” Junior went on, “yeah, they come with their expensive food like Monica.” Coming in defence of her friend Esther responded,
33
“Her food is not expensive, Monica’s mother works in a supermarket, that’s why she can have it. Some others will be having problems because she is not giving them her food, they will be saying look at Monica with her extensive food she is showing off”
In fact, the issue of food turned out to be one of the reasons why not all students were as welcoming to me after I was told by Esther that I had been judged not only for having brought a sandwich, but also for eating brown bread which was a questionable food choice in their eyes. She explained that brown bread was normally only eaten by those who were particularly conscious of their health. Further frictions arose with regards to the areas in which people lived, with students feeing that classmates who lived in lower density (less populated) areas looked down on them and treated them with distain. With this knowledge, I became acutely aware of the resentment related to money that permeated the discussions I had. As I sat with Nesta and Ona the chess garden one afternoon after school, we began discussing what we were good at cooking, “Would you cook for me if I were to come to your house?” I asked Ona “Yes of course, I would cook spaghetti, noodles they are only 60c.” “Can you cook?” asked me Nesta. Before I even opened my mouth, almost involuntarily Ona blurted out, “No she can't cook" at which point Nesta turned to me saying, "she is saying that because she thinks you are spoiled." Judgements made on economic differences appeared to be based on negative characteristics believed to be acquired or enacted by those with more money. In Monica ‘s case it was her reluctance to share and in mine it was the perceived ease with which I lived my life implying that I had not worked for it as it was assumed that I had not made an effort to learn determined life skills. It seems as if our actions went against an expected cultural norm. For example, the struggle towards achieving something came across as the very thing that was held to highest esteem. This is what I recognised as being the driving force towards the ambition that was promoted at the school with the head master having expressed to me that his expectations of Mpopma students as striving for them to become, “hard-working, well behaved and cultured.” Taking pride in the fact that, “90% of the students and doctors at the University of Zimbabwe in Harare medical school are from [Nomvula] this school.” As for Monica, by not sharing, she had not behaved in accordance with the philosophy of Ubuntu in her failure to ‘value the interests and needs of the group’ (Fainos, 2016: 68). When asked however, students could not explain their irritation towards what was wrong with her behaviour; they simply knew that they expected her to share. The inability to contextualise their expectations alluded to the existence of Ubuntu values from which however, they seemed to be disconnected thus resulting in the emergence of
34 irreconcilable tensions amongst students. On the other hand, the success driven approach endorsed by Mr Nkala, fosters a competitive sentiment which also appears to go against the more communally focused values of Ubuntu thus representing the cultural conflict to which I referred in the previous chapter. Aspects of this conflict can be seen to be mediated within youths’ expression of the intent they have once having achieved success. At Nomvula, Tengi went into detail about her determination to open up ten pharmacies and two medical clinics across the country whilst also buying and renting a flat out to ‘white people’ in America as well as running a logistics company. Once she achieved this success, she also had a vision on how she sought to ‘give back’.
“I will be supplying the money to a rural village for let’s say twelve months and in those twelve months they should be able to at least make up their minds as a community what they want to do with that money, let’s say start a business. Then I will go to the next community, I supply them again.”
On hearing this her classmate Brighton retorted, “I have to say, she doesn’t have big dreams, she has gigantic dreams.” He struggled to see the practical way in which she would be able to achieve her ambitions which is something that he considered when telling me about his goals, “I would like to be, maybe an astronaut but there are no space stations in Zimbabwe so that is why I want to leave, I want to see the moon, I just want to walk on the moon.” Although arguably Brighton’s aspirations were equally as extravagant, he recognised the principal obstacle in his path as being that of a lack of structural opportunity to pursue his preferred career. Others, similarly to Tengi expressed their desire to give back, such as Nomard who told me,
“I would like improve the rules… to become the headmaster maybe for you two years and change most of the rules like shaving our hair. For girls to be allowed hairstyles. I’d like to change the rules maybe be headmaster for short period of time and allow many things that the children would want because if we learn, at last we have the things that we like and I think we’ll pass more.”
In this statement, Nomard re-asserted his loyalty and belief in the school as well as his frustrations and vision of the potential for change and improvement that according to him was being stunted by rules that were being imposed. The tension between the different value spheres to which Robbins refers is concretised within Nomard’s explanation of his situated experience whereby it appears that his principle annoyance lies in his struggle to resolve the contradictions between his
35 respect and appreciation for his school environment and his personal desires for change. As such, my standpoint of the problematics involved in the pursuit of the good is reasserted.
36 4. Negotiating the self
4.1- Questioning the unquestionable
The topic of rules introduced in the statements made by Normand in the previous chapter, is one in which the subject of socio-cultural conflict persists to exist and where further distinction can be made between the way in which they are enforced on, and confronted by, the private and government school students. Furthermore, the role of agency is once again brought into play when looking at the ways in which students challenge or accept authority and apply the moral behaviours that they are taught. This analysis will allow for the clarification of those elements inherited from colonialism and their interaction with the agenda of indigenisation framed within the country’s neo-liberal economic ambitions reflected in the 2015 Ministerial Statement outlining the new curriculum framework for primary and secondary education:
“The expansion in the capabilities of information and communication technologies and the emergence of an information-driven economy underpin the need for the development of new skill sets that enable citizens to live and work competitively in the global village.” (DR. L. D. K Dokora, 2015)
In relation to Graham’s concept of creating an ‘ideal citizen’, specified alongside this objective was the inclusion of four specific formative values listed as needing to be promoted within the curriculum. Amongst these was the principle of Ubuntu which was translated in English as meaning respect, with the other three being inclusivity, relevance and diversity. Similarly related to structuring the moral foundation of schooling, the issue of discipline is one which both head teachers highlighted as being a key aspect of successful and productive education. Having spent her whole career working within the education system first in the UK and then in Zimbabwe, I asked Mrs Shaw what her impressions were when comparing the two. Her response was coated in nostalgia:
“I think one of the most shocking things for me coming here was that the discipline of students was much higher here then it was in the UK. If you’re looking at some of the state schools, students are much more restricted in how they approach adults, which I suppose is Europe stepping back twenty years… Children tend to be children for much longer. There is much more emphasis on sport and so you will have eighteen, nineteen year olds running around the field in shorts and a
37 T-shirt and that’s fine, in England they just look at you very strangely are like, I don’t think so.”
Coming from the outside in, her expectations of the levels of discipline were exceeded whereas at Nomvula Mr Nkala held a different opinion, stating that standards of discipline were much higher in the past,
“Now we are facing challenges, our discipline is being challenged. When we ask students to cut their hair because they cannot maintain it, they are offended. We are gradually being weekend in terms of how we are able to discipline students making it much more difficult to teach.”
Upon mentioning this I knew exactly to what he referred as it was a subject that I had discussed with Nomvula students having been surprised at the way in which they viewed the school’s disciplining methods. While it is against the law for corporal punishment to be administered, I came to learn that it remains common practice particularly amongst government schools. The students at Nomvula complained of those teachers who were quick to issue such punishment, which principally entailed being whipped on the palm of the hand with rubber tubing. In the same breath however, they told me that they appreciated their teacher’s efforts to discipline them in this manner as in this action they felt that teachers were looking out for their best interests in giving them a deserving punishment for having misbehaved, helping them to focus more and strive to do better at school. As Ona put it, “When they are beating us, they are beating us for our own benefit so that we don’t repeat the same mistakes.” Corporal punishment therefore was acknowledged as acting as a formative tool with students describing themselves as malleable entities in need of regulation and conditioning of the mind. It is in this dynamic between youth and elder that valued of traditional social structures are maintained such as those expressed in the Shona proverb, “Nzira inobvunza varimberi," translated as, “You should ask those who are ahead for directions to your destination.” (Mpara, 2009: 3). However, this continuity of traditional values was not how most of the teachers experienced the dynamic. At St. Mary, Mr Sebata, a senior long standing member of staff took me down memory lane describing the changes in education and the school that he experienced since the start of his time there in 2001. He acted as deputy head master and as the school’s disciplinarian. It is in this capacity that he was able to describe what he referred to as a ‘lack of continuity’ in the school’s values and “dilution” of its culture given the high turnover of teachers and head teachers at the school over the years. He attributed this to the fluctuations in the country’s economy and
38 educational policy resulting in the erosion of schooling standards and respect for elders. He explained,
“The change in our laxity in discipline has changed badly… When I came St. Mary students had very high respect for teachers but from 2013 it has gone down because our constitution changed as a country and certain aspects of discipline that we could do can no longer be done… The aspect of discipline also impacts on sports because you if you cannot discipline then students don’t really mind about the sports, they can do whatever they want”
With this I sensed the clash of the old with the new as he confessed that as an experienced employee, he had hoped to have been appointed as headmaster. Instead, the board of directors chose an external candidate, Mrs Shaw, whom he nevertheless credited as being a beacon for the modern economic era whose goal was to “prepare the child to fit into the working industry and ICT world.”
4.2- Are you listening to me?
Amongst students, the interaction between old and new values can be seen by the way in which they spoke about their relationships with their teachers. Despite their acceptance of certain forms of discipline, Nomvula students also recognised the need for moderation. When I asked them to describe to me what they thought of as a good or bad teacher, what became apparent was their appreciation for being able to form a relationship in which they feel they had a degree of freedom to express themselves. Roselin gave one example of a ‘good’ teacher: “Our history teacher always comes to our class even though it’s not his day just to speak to us he doesn’t beat us, just to communicate with us.” In describing a bad teacher Belinda said, “You have the feeling that when a teacher walks in you just freak out and say what if I do this or that and she banishes me. That is how I live when my Geo teacher enters.” I gathered that students saw the value in being heard and treated fairly, perceiving excessive sternness to be counterproductive to their educational development. This is what I understood from Tengi’s account,
“What I would advise teachers is that when they see a child misbehave, let’s say Nomard. They shouldn’t be like every day “Nomard stop doing that” out of fifty-four students they only concentrate on the wrong things that had been done. Even if I’m a teacher and I am holding a grudge let’s say from Daniel I shouldn’t show that I hate Daniel, it will affect him. He won’t like the subject. Even if I think that I’m helping him love the subject, he won’t love the subject because he will
39 develop an attitude. So, the teacher should show love, they should beat the children but they should actually to control themselves, not too much beating, a little beating just to feel the pain.”
Furthermore, in a separate interview, I perceived the desire for reciprocal understanding in a statement made by Uthani, “Some of them [teachers] don’t have a sense of humour.” In fact, amongst themselves, I noticed that students continuously teased each other as the more extraverted students made witty quips about appearance, behaviour or boy/girl relationships. Belinda explained, “If in class you see us laughing, don’t think we are laughing at you. People are clowns, we like to make fun of each other.” In doing so friendship bonds were established and re- enforced, possibly a reason for which resentment was felt when teachers did not respond accordingly to their humour. My data is not sufficient for me to examine whether or not this form of social interaction between youth was pre-existing or is a product of modernisation processes however, its informal tone certainly appeared to be at odds with traditional structures of submissive youth/elder relationships. Perhaps this pattern of behaviour is a symptom of what Mr Nkala negatively diagnosed as the increase in “a relaxed attitude” from students, reflecting Mungwini’s sentiment of the moral decadence plaguing Zimbabwean society (Mungwini, 2011: 774). The need to he heard was held in equal regard amongst St. Mary students who felt undermined in their efforts to defend themselves against what they deemed to be unfair behaviour from teachers. In one particular group session students discussed the difficulties they faced in being able to convince their parents about their version of events when being chastised by a teacher. Sean: “When consultation came he [the teacher] told my father that when he asks a question I don’t raise my hand up or anything, and then when I told him that every single day I raise at my hand he just doesn’t believe me.” In support of this statement Tafadzwa added,
“There are some teachers who over exaggerate, especially at consultation. They just put too much salt into the soup and when I came to consultation with my aunt she said never do that because if you tell your parent that your teacher was lying after your done, your parents will probably think that you are lying so you must tell your parents in front of the teacher that, “mam what you’re saying it is not accurate”. But that is also depending on the teacher because some teachers just because you embarrass them in front of the parents and you’re telling the truth, that teacher might end up hating you.”
40 Other common grievances included inconsiderate teaching styles whereby ‘bad’ teachers did not give students time to complete their notes. What was appreciated in a ‘good’ teacher conversely, was a sense of humour. Here is where shared and differing values between the two schools was most apparent and where the difference between educational structures can be seen to restrain or encourage the expression of agency, thus defining the bounders in which the ‘self’ is negotiated and explored (Ochs & Capps, 1996: 11). There was no indication of corporal punishment at St. Mary and students freely expressed their disdain for certain disciplinary techniques. Conversely at Nomvula, students were cautious to speak about their punishment as I was told, “if the teachers hear what we have been telling you then they will expel us because they don’t want us to tell you that we are beaten.” Furthermore, in spite of the poor classroom conditions, little complaint was made about teaching style, focusing more on teaching ethic, such as being punctual for class or correcting homework in a timely manner. Whilst acts expressing familiarity disrupted the authoritative hierarchy at Nomvula challenging traditional boundaries, at St. Mary, it was instead an integral element to what students recognised as contributing to a positive schooling experience. During my time with the students there, it was not unusual to hear off the cuff comments such as, “I like your hair mam” whilst walking to class or for jokes to openly be made, sometimes at the teacher’s expense, during a lesson. On this subject Joshua commented, “There are some teachers who actually speak slang and they don’t punish that much unless you do something really extreme. Those teachers are the good teachers.” It is in the teacher’s acceptance of this dynamic that Mrs Shaw’s vision of more individually tailored “learning techniques” can be recognised whereby teachers are encouraged to incorporate students’ personal characteristics into their lesson plans in an effort to move away from what she referred to as being outdated “factory model education…designed for factory environments.” The very arrangement of lessons at Nomvula on the other hand reflected the upholding of the ‘factory style’ environment. There, I did not witness students engaging in small talk with teachers and lessons were information heavy with very little dialogue or discussion carried out. In addition, when questioned, the teachers themselves admitted to not knowing all of their students’ names. Such a structure was of course also a product of circumstance as the limited resources and high number of students in class did not allow the time for superfluous informal interaction. This factor did not go unnoticed as an issue by teachers but given the limited resources available, it was recognised as being a reality that they had no choice but to resign to.
41 4.3- Thinking inside the box
Despite the ‘forward-thinking’ approach adopted by Mrs Shaw, the remnants of colonial knowledge structures still appeared to remain very much in place particularly when tackling the subject of moral behaviour and the rationale behind career choices; both of which act as determinants of ‘the good’. The interaction of these two aspects is another instance where friction can be seen to exist between traditional and modernist ideology. I have demonstrated that, in their own ways, both educational settings endorse the promotion of particular aspects of modern neo- liberal thought. At Nomvula this is included in the government’s directive to encourage the development of a citizen who can operate in the global economic marketplace. In addition, the ambitious and competitive nature expressed by students and expected by the headmaster, is in line with the sentiment fostered in capitalist free market economics. In a different manner, at St. Mary, in their description of their schooling, students presented their relationship with the institution as being one of economic investment. They were acutely aware of the costs involved and therefore expected this to be reflected in the quality of the education they received such that they could reap the desired long term returns. Furthermore, the efficiency driven individualistic stance advocated by Mrs Shaw similarly fits in with the modernist framework intended to develop a socially and economically productive citizen. Nevertheless, the paternalistic structures upon which traditional youth/adult relationships are based can be seen to persist in students’ rationalisation of their morals and decisions regarding their future. It is also to this firm and unwavering presence of Zimbabwe’s paternalistic social arrangement, that I attribute the continuation of the moral schizophrenia and ideological stalemate to which I allude to in my introduction. Moreover, this arrangement upholds the danger for Ubuntu to “be used as a pretext by those in power to maintain their hold by encouraging unanimity in thinking and an unquestioning acceptance of the so-called communal position” (Mungwini, 2011: 783). Such an interpretation allows for the justification of forced conformity thus limiting the space in which youth can express agency and incite both practical and subjective mechanisms of change that can be sustained and legitimised. This form of paternalism strictly polices the formulation of identity and conceptualisation of the self, conflicting with the more liberal philosophy attributed to modern education systems in which Mungwini recognises the possibility for the development of new selves or for what was coined as the ‘entrepreneurial self’ (Ibid.: 781). Whilst having a casual conversation about the new national curriculum with a teacher at Nomvula, it transpired that he did not agree with all the changes that were being implemented. Upon my questioning of what teachers sought to do to perhaps resist this change he explained, “You see in our culture even if you disagree with your elders you cannot tell them that they are
42 wrong, you have to find another way.” The narrative of this unquestioned form of respect for elders arose in continuation when students spoke about the role they saw their teachers playing in their lives. Monica:
“A good teacher is the one that tells you to do things in the way that he wants and sometimes you might want to argue. But he or she will be helping you for the future, to live for tomorrow.” Esther: “Yes, because they know what tomorrow will become. They have been there, they have passed that stage.”
This discussion demonstrates the degree of reliance that students place on their educator’s word and the value of the wisdom that they believe it to hold. Conversely, as seen at St. Mary, students were more readily critical of their teachers and questioned their judgement however, this is not to say that they were exempt from the authoritarian dynamics promoted in traditional cultural systems. This fact was made clear to me in an interview I had with the careers advisor Diane. She was a British woman in her early forties who had married a Zimbawean and whose four children went to St. Mary high. She was doing her masters in careers guidance and counselling through a UK university and had offered her services to the school as part of her practical training. Her principle frustration was that of finding it difficult to practice particular counselling techniques with the St. Mary students.
“Compared to the people I am studying with in the UK, some of the things that they say about their students being able to do and make decisions. It feels like the things that I’m struggling with here, they might only struggle with a few students but not with quite so many. The idea is that I should be entirely non-directive. They [students] don’t come with the expectation of me not telling them, or giving them any direction. I don’t think that I have had one single student that didn’t actually want to just be directed a bit… I’m not an educationist but from what I have seen, I have got four children in the school. I’ve got one in the high school and three in the junior school. It hasn’t been yet, at least with Zim [the Zimbabwean curriculum] about self-exploration. It’s been about, ‘these of the facts that you need to learn’”.
This indicated to me that the expectation to be prescribed a life path was a cross class phenomenon experienced by black, white and coloured students alike. Diane’s reflections went so far as to identify the top down guidance structure as being responsible for the limited spectrum of career choices that students made.
43
“There is very definitely a sense that some parents do feel they can choose the path that the child is going to take because they see it as they have paid for their education and now they are going to keep on telling them what to do…just thinking about the students that I have to see, I think four out of five want to have a professional occupation rather than saying ‘I want to be a philosopher.’ It is set career path that they’re driven towards. The other thing that I’m seeing is a lot of parents pushing towards the sciences. I will then say to the child ‘you’ve got very good results in your arts subjects, why did you then go on and choose the sciences when it looks like it’s not so easy for you?’ ‘Well my parents said that I’ll get a better job’.”
With Diane’s account, a common theme emerges whereby parents have a strong sense of entitlement and tendency to micromanage every aspect of their children’s lives, from choosing the school they go to, the people they socialise with outside of it and what they will do with their lives once they have completed their secondary education. It therefore becomes apparent how paternalism (‘old’ values) combined with economically driven objectives (‘new’ values) limit’s the parameters within which youth are able to experiment with or express their sense of agency hence going against the notion of the ‘entrepreneurial self’ despite being in a modern educational setting (Maunganidze, 2016: 4).
4.4- Confessions of youth
Such mechanisms can further be seen in the institutionalisation of morality or “bureaucratic production of reality” (de Rada, 2007: 208) such that the promotion of determined moral behaviours has been integrated as a subject within the curriculum of both schools in the form of ‘life skills’ lessons. In the Ministry of Education’s curriculum framework, it is stated, “A Life Skills Orientation Programme will cap a learner’s studies up to form four before they settle on a pathway that will define their professional and adult life.” At Nomvula, students mentioned the fact that they did indeed have life skills lessons, however they appeared to be informally included in their syllabus prioritising the limited time available for core subjects thus making it unclear when and where they were held. As such, the opportunity to attend those lessons escaped me. Nevertheless, moral discourse regarding the policing of emotions and behaviour was very much present in their everyday schooling. One such occasion was during their weekly assemblies which always began with a prayer. This reasserted the Christian ethos that lay at the foundation of the rationale upon which the regulation and portrayal of the self was determined and according to which judgments
44 were made on the behaviour of others. Students would then sing both the school and national anthem and were explicitly reminded of the pride that they should feel for their school and country. The most predominant themes surrounding the topic of morality were those regarding the enactment or display of sexuality. At Nomvula one such discussion was carried out in the confines of my car as eight of us squeezed in to talk and escape the heavy downpour in the absence of an empty classroom. When speaking about other cultures, three of the girls present, Rutendo, Monica and Esther, talked about how much they enjoyed the romantic aspect of the Korean movies they watched on television. Junior, one of the boys in the group expressed his disapproval, “I disagree, because they are saying that watching romantic movies are good but you’re not at the age to watch romantic movies, like certain types of movies.” Esther tried to defend her standpoint by specifying that there was no kissing, therefore no direct physical contact, was involved. To this point, the whole group appeared to agree as to the parameters of acceptability being limited to non-physical forms of courtship. I was surprised when the topic re-emerged when I asked my usual question on what they would consider to be a good or bad teacher. In describing a bad teacher, Monica began her depiction by saying that it would be someone who was slow and lazy to mark students’ work. The ‘bad teacher’ depiction sharply escalated however when Esther nonchalantly continued saying, “a bad teacher is when he sees you, he calls you and tells you ‘come here I wanted to go to the tuck shop and buy you something’. He will be lying to you and he’ll want to rape you.” I questioned them on whether this was a common occurrence and they informed me that although they themselves had not had such an experience they had heard of other people that did and went so far as to be suspicious of certain girls in their class who they claimed took advantage of the teacher’s desires in order to receive gifts. Esther: “Last week I was speaking to Arani. I asked her where did you get that hat from and she said that she got that has from Mr Quelu, the sports master, and I asked myself, why did he give you that hat?” The conversation evolved amongst the group without my interjection as the girls went on to talk about rape, focusing on the practical problematics involved, namely their main concern over contracting HIV. What I found most surprising was the stark contrast between the degree of sexual limitation that they said they practiced and advocated as being considered to be ‘good behaviour’, alongside being able to candidly speak about the exchange of sexual favours and occurrences of sexual assault. In this contrast, I recognised the existence of inconsistencies between the subjective understanding of ‘good’ behaviour, and what came across as common societal behavioural realities that were in direct opposition to these subjectivities. In a separate group, still maintaining the subject of moral decency, students brought up a case in which they knew a of a girl who ‘willingly’
45 had sex with a teacher and consequently fell pregnant. As a result, once again without any input from my part, they went on to discuss amongst themselves the problematics that arose from girls who wore inappropriate ‘tight’ sports clothing describing them as ‘advertising their bodies’. In this discussion, the theme of paternalism was re-visited as they expressed their expectation of the teachers and police to uphold moral standards by punishing those who dressed inappropriately. Tengi:
“In 2009 the police were told that they should look for girls wearing miniskirts and bum shorts so that they get beaten up and at times arrested. Police and teachers should watch what girls wear. They should not be wearing miniskirts or crop tops.”
No one opposed this statement other than mentioning that perhaps the police should limit themselves to jailing offenders rather than beating them. To a lesser degree, criticism of girls also existed at St. Mary when they were seen to be too ‘forward’ with boys with one girl negatively commenting on a classmate’s’ behaviour saying, “you know Kimberly goes with upper six boys.” There was a strict no girl/boy touching policy, explicitly outlined in the school’s written rules; physical contact between boys and girls at school was not an institutionally recognised issue at Nomvula. In spite of the clearly outlined prohibition, St. Mary students were a lot less restrictive in their approach to male and female relationships as many of them felt comfortable, and in some cases proud, of telling me about how many boyfriends and girlfriends they had had. Nevertheless, as at Nomvula, peer to peer regulation was enforced. Tanya, Abigail and Judith were a group of three girls who were always together. They were friends despite them having opposing opinions on the subject of dating. When I asked what it meant to ‘date’ a boy Abigail explained,
“Dating is actually friends with benefits because the guy will say ‘you know what, I like you’, and the girl we’ll also say, ‘I also like you, why don’t we date?’, and then they say ‘okay’ but there will be hugs in the morning and people say “ooo Abigail and so and so are dating and it’s just…” Tanya interrupts, “a waste of time… it is because the time that you are hugging you are being taught something that you won’t benefit from, where are you going to take those hugs?”
Judith agreed adding, “and then they come and you act as if they’ve knocked your brain or something” These types of opposing opinions on the subject were widespread amongst the St. Mary students with whom I spoke, with one boy coming to me for advice on how to repress his sexual desire. I was walking through the courtyard as he approached me in a hurry asking whether
46 I knew where he could find Pastor Harold who had convinced him the day before not to date or to ever get married. He described his anxieties about dating in that he might be put in an inevitable position where he may get physical and would not be ready for the responsibility of possibly having a child. In this setting, there was a much stronger sense of the existence of the moral pluralism referred to by Mungwini such that there appeared to be no cohesion on the matter. There were those students who valued boyfriend/girlfriend relationships as a symbol of popularity going against the hard-line prohibition imposed by the school. Others in the same sphere judged it as being a frivols distraction from the educative purpose of schooling alongside the religious considerations that were also expressed in the practice of dating leading to sinful behaviour. The Christian aspect of morality was a further pronounced in the life skills lessons that I was able to attend as students were required to bring bibles along to the class. The issues discussed were far ranging with students being asked to share their bad habits and behaviour specifically referred to by the teacher as the ‘temptations’ that they tackled in their lives. Discussions revolved around spiritual respect of the body by abstaining from alcohol and cigarettes as well as steering clear from bad influences by not engaging in ‘unhealthy’ friendships. The recurring mantra being, “tell me who your friends are and I will tell you who you are” once again alluding to the inclination to police youth socialisation. Similarly to the candour expressed at Nomvula, St. Mary students openly shared accounts of moral conundrums that they had faced when dealing with friends and asked the teacher for advice on ongoing issues that they were struggling to tackle, such as a friend who lied to a parent in order to attend a party. This demonstrated their acceptance of the purpose of the class and its teachings and hence their internalisation of the morals it promoted. As such, it allowed for them to incorporate them when carrying out the regulation of the self and trying to contribute to the moral regulation of their peers. Agency therefore came into play only with regards to their subjective interpretation of these morals and values, however the parameters within which this interpretation could be made, had in this way, been institutionally determined.
47 5. The burdens Zimbabwean youth
5.1- Purging of the past
The importance of being Christian was made clear in both schools from the beginning. Starting from my first discussion with the group of girls in the St. Mary library. In introducing themselves to me, Leila’s name was brought into question. “Leila Ahmed, that’s a Muslim name” said Charlize to which Leila replied quickly and defensively, “Yes but I’m Christian, my family is Christian. I have nothing to do with that.” I revisited the topic when trying to understand what black students based their Zimbabwean identity on; whether it be more related to pre, or post-colonial societal culture. I have already outlined the traditional conceptual structures that remained in place in terms of Ubuntu however, I was curious to know what, if any, physical enactments of indigenous culture were also maintained and how they played out amongst contemporary ideologies. In Joshua’s description of Zimbabwean weddings, he mentioned his appreciation for the dancing and singing that occurred, stating that it was a typically Zimbabwean cultural trait. In fact, both at Nomvula and St. Mary, singing was particularly important during assemblies and especially in sporting events where special songs were sung as ‘battle cries’. When I attended Nomvula’s sports day, I submerged myself in the centre of the crowd amongst the students on the stands overlooking the sports arena. Nine schools were competing against each other that day but Nomvula had a long-standing reputation for coming out on top adding to the enthusiasm of the couple of hundred students from the school who attended. As soon as the event began with the boy’s long distance running, the chanting commenced. The sound was overwhelming. I could not identify who would lead the beginning of one song to the next but everyone joined in and played their part, including the effortless and seemingly improvised inclusion of layered harmonies coming from all directions. I was there for three hours and both singing and dancing persisted throughout; my ears rang and pained from the continuous sound but I left feeling enriched by the astounding energy that was upheld throughout. No major sports day was held at St. Mary whilst I was there however I arrived one lunch time to find half of the school congregated at the assembly area with two girls leading a battle cry rehearsal. Their voices resounded across the open area as the rest of the school participated in the accompanying response. The united sentiment of pride that was created was palpable in these performances making it easy to understand why this aspect of indigenous culture has persisted. The emotive capabilities of song could be seen to have been useful in the establishment of Christianity amongst the indigenous population as its use is compatible with Christian forms of worship in the singing of hymns and giving praise. At St. Mary, one assembly
48 a week was dedicated to singing hymns and every Friday at Nomvula there was a student run sermon to which my interlocutors admitted attending principally because of the singing that was incorporated. Another persisting feature mentioned in both schools was that of Lobola, which is a process carried out between the families of the bride and groom prior to marriage whereby an appropriate bride price is established and agreed. Although not all students mentioned expected to abide by this practice, it was something that all indigenous youth were aware of allowing me to enter into discussions about what type of person they would expect to marry. It is here that the topic of Christianity once again became significant. As I questioned them on whether their prospective spouse needed to fulfil determined, racial, national, tribal or religious criteria. Some students expressed the importance of maintaining their culture which meant marrying a black man from their tribe as Tanya from St. Mary told me,
“My parents want me to marry a black man because of Lobola. In other cultures, they just come and take a girl and get married; have a white wedding. My parents want me to find a traditional man.”
Other students felt comfortable with the idea of having an intercultural marriage. “I would like to marry a Spanish or Italian” said Tristian. Nevertheless, the aspect of the bride price remained central, Monica: “I would like to be married in India because they are paying Lobola, giving the parents gifts and jewellery that are very beautiful.” In those cases where race and national culture was not an issue, religion preceded, Abigail: “My parents say as long as he’s Christian, as long as he loves you with all his heart, you can marry whoever you want. The aspect of Christianity mattered with regard to safeguarding themselves from false idols or sinful practices (Kaarsholm, 1997: 245). Aysha had told me about traditional coming of age rituals that were carried out with young boys and girls in the rural areas but could not go into detail as to what they consisted of. Only at Nomvula did I find students with some vague knowledge of traditional practices. Esther explained her understanding of what happened when a child is born,
“My grandparents once told me that when a mum has given birth to boy or girl they will take that child and go with the mum to the rural areas and they will tell the sisters that they have come with the baby and the mum and they must celebrate. They will kill a cow and once they have the killed cow they will take that blood in a container and then mix it with milk, and give it to the baby.”
49
On hearing this, students in the group started sharing the fragmented anecdotes of information with regards to such practices leading one of the girls, Rutendo, to admit, “My grandmother is a traditional healer.” This was met with instant backlash by Esther, “How can she mix God with those things? God doesn’t believe in those things” re-enforcing a statement she had made earlier on in the conversation about not condoning the practice of witchcraft, expressing her gratitude to the British missionaries for bringing Christianity, “…without missionaries, nowadays we will not be having the Bible we will not be knowing how God created us.” The distain of witchcraft was also amongst St. Mary students when discussing choosing an appropriate partner for marriage. Tafadzwa:
“I would need to choose a person that I know well because let’s say I meet a random girl and then next thing I know I am marrying her and I find out she is into witchcraft. This is against my beliefs, my religion.”
Being Christian appeared to be the single unifying feature of combined Zimbabwean identity, transcending disparities in race, class and culture. In spite of differences in opinions between the various denominations, when asked, students would principally say, “I am a Christian” rather than “I am a Catholic” or a Baptist etc. The strength of this bond made it such that I did not come across a single non-Christian, being told that particularly in Nomvula, people of other faiths were present, but due to social stigma they did not like to make their religion known. This bond was extended all the way up to the state level, having been referenced as one of the principle determinants of respect that they had for their leader in his capacity to uphold Christian values. The all-encompassing use of the self-identifying term ‘Christian’, allows for the illusion of moral unity as a nation however, as previously mentioned the plurality of denominations does not permit this to be the case. This is such that forms of Christianity range from Catholic, amongst which the President is included, to a home-grown MaPostori Christians who incorporate traditional elements of spiritualism into their creed. Each denomination holds its own understanding of the way in which one’s life as a Christian should be lived leading to both values and practical aspects of life being organised in very different ways. The Seventh day Adventist Church for example abstains from working on the Sabbath and the MaPostori do not believe in the need for formal education for girls after the age of twelve (Moyo, 2007: 201 (strength beyond structure book)). Tanya’s comment about wanting a ‘traditional’ man was therefore contingent on a very specific interpretation of the term. Not all aspects of historical tradition were appreciated, rather
50 favouring a hybrid form of traditionalism which incorporates customary practices such as Lobola as well as both Christian values and modern ambitions. Given the problematics I have outlined with the existence of moral plurality, the way in which these three elements are embodied in an individual remain completely subjective. As such, it difficult to determine what an ideal specimen of a modern traditional man would look like as the particularities of way in which these three aspects are balanced remain firmly based on the reflexive interpretation of the individual rather than on a well-established cultural model or ideal. In this way, it is unclear what type of a ‘good man’ would be needed to fulfil this element of a ‘good life’.
5.2- In America I would be a drug lord
Notions of identity were further obscured by simultaneous feelings of attachment and disillusionment with being a Zimbabwean. Naomi, a girl at St. Mary, best represented this sentiment when voicing her thoughts about whether or not she would move away from the country.
“I think I would like to move from Zimbabwe because in terms of when I grow up, like for job opportunities and schools, I think that outside countries are good but they also have their disadvantages. They have corruption and you might be forced to get in to things that you wouldn’t think that you would normally get into. But Zimbabwe is secure and we Zimbabweans are actually better in education than other African countries.”
Amongst the eleven group interviews that I conducted between the two schools, the feeling that Zimbabwe was a safe and peaceful place was brought up in each one, as was the fact that the economy was in disarray. Subsequently, lack of future prospects due to economic crisis was also the main reason why students said that they would leave the country. However, as with the judgment that had been passed on my being a spoilt individual, Adrian at St. Mary posited the idea that a productive economy could have negative consequences. He credited the challenges brought about by Zimbabwe’s unstable economy as having had a direct and positive influence on the formation of his character in encouraging him to be a hard worker, “If grew up in an economy where everything was given to me I wouldn’t have achieved what I have achieved.” Alongside these preoccupations arose mixed notions of freedom particularly when comparing their living conditions to other nations. Daniel at Nomvula viewed the country’s status as an independent state as representing freedom, “it’s an independent country and people are free to do whatever they want if it is good.” Tanya at St. Mary also felt the same way claiming that there
51 was freedom to protest however, her groupmates Abigail and Judith firmly disagreed, recognising the existence of state suppression in their account of the police brutality that had been administered during public riots that occurred the year before, “things went wild, the army was killing citizens, people put in jail, stores were robbed.” Nevertheless, within the context of the state subjugation felt by some students, also existed another spectrum of freedom felt on a much more direct level. This was expressed by Tanaka and Oliver, two St. Mary boys who had had experiences with living in the UK. Tanaka lamented about having had to be accompanied by an adult when out and about, placing a limit to his personal liberty that he felt was not imposed in Zimbabwe. Amongst the descriptions of peacefulness, natural beauty and general conservative wholesomeness promoted in the country, students seemed to be aware of the sanctuary offered by such an environment mirroring the idyllic setting that my mother had spoken to me about. I most strongly sensed this feeling when speaking to Oliver who could not quite put it into words, “I think it’s free compared to other countries. It’s really hard to explain, because I have lived in another country I can see how it’s different. I think it benefits my education.” An excess in freedoms and choice was viewed as a threat to this model of existence such that it enabled the disturbance of the peace that they valued by creating the opportunity to engage in criminal or immoral behaviour. Tafadzwa: “If I lived somewhere else I wouldn’t be the person that I am today. In America, maybe I would be a drug lord right now, even at the age of fourteen” to which Sean agreed saying, “Yeah, in Zimbabwe it’s safer because in America there are serial killers, murderers and all that.” In theorising the construction of being and cultural situatedness, Robbins notes that as a result of Christianisation and therefore colonialism, subjects of study in anthropology could no longer be schematised as ‘savage’ or ‘other’. (Robbins, 2013: 449) As such, he proposes that a shift occurred whereby the focus became centred upon those who were living ‘in pain, poverty, or under conditions of violence or oppression’ giving rise to the term, “the suffering subject” (Ibid.: 448). When speaking about their reservations about other countries and lifestyles however, both in the private and government school setting, there appeared to be no indication that students identified with this type of suffering. Their portrayal of economic hardship was either valued in its function of fostering qualities of resourcefulness and immunising them from laziness or seen as a mere inconvenience that would, in one way or another, be overcome. I am cautious however not to downplay other complexities related to the socio-political context in which they live. Ryan and Aysha’s warnings referred directly to the subject of politics, having being told, “don’t talk about politics and don’t let people lure you into a discussion. If they want to talk about it that’s fine but if they ask you a question just play dumb and say you don’t know anything about it.”
52 When speaking to people about the country, I often asked, what they thought could be done to improve the situation when they complained about the country’s poor economic sate. With this question, I noticed a significant distinction between the responses given in St. Mary and Nomvula. I held group interviews with twenty-nine students at St. Mary, amongst whom the subject of politics was only alluded to three times making a general reference to there being a poor political situation. Only one boy Luke ventured to give a slightly more elaborate answer saying, “I think Zimbabwe is a nice country but it’s unstable. You feel safe but at the same time unsafe because you don’t know what the government can do.” There would often be a moment of stillness when I spoke about change in the country which would then be broken buy a response about the need for economic improvement. Being weary of Ryan and Aysha’s warnings, I avoided making students feel uncomfortable by pushing further on the matter. When interviewing staff members on the other hand I felt more comfortable to probe a little more, each time engaging in what seemed to be an elegant dance between words as the topic was approached. Mrs Shaw succeeded in avoiding the matter completely and Mr Sebata generally referred to poor management of public spending. Keeping in mind that they were being recorded, the accountant Ida, spoke most explicitly by clearly stating, “Our president is full of wisdom. I wouldn’t want to say much on the political side…but I thank God for the peace and tranquillity that we have.” Upon my arrival at Nomvula I was surprised about the relative openness with which people spoke about the subject. The headmaster complained frankly about the fact that the ministry of education had been, “inconsiderate about the teacher’s salaries” directly linking the lack of adequate monetary incentive to unmotivated teaching styles and therefore to the growing trend of decreasing exam result standards. I was most shocked by a long but informal conversation I had with a class teacher who, not being recorded, mentioned that the death of the president may bring about positive change. Amongst students, the topic of political leadership brought about lively debate over the effectiveness of the government. This involved criticism over what they viewed as extravagant public spending on events such as the president’s birthday and complaints on their view of the government’s favouritism of the Shona people over the Ndebeles. Fuelling the debate was Tengi who herself belonged to the Shona tribe and admitted to religiously following Zimbabwean current affairs, waking up in the early hours of the morning to watch the state news channel ZBC. I questioned her on why it was the only channel she that she watched, to which she replied, “because I watch indigenous things. ZBC is the source of the truth about the nation.” Her classmates disagreed, with Daniel challenging her unwavering loyalty to the operations carried out by the government, “Tengi, you said that you love Zimbabwe, you said that you want us to love Zimbabwe. You said that we are the ones who have to increase our economy
53 but how can we increase our economy when our president does not work with whites?” Back and forth exchanges continued for twenty minutes without my interruption. Students in the group tried to weaken the legitimacy of Tengi’s assertions. Daniel: “For the birthday of Mugabe how many cows were slaughtered? They almost used at $9 million instead of fixing the rate of Zimbabwe.” Tengi: “Where did you get that figure from? So, you’re telling me that he cannot spend money for his birthday, you are telling me that?” Criticism was uncensored and informed; the maturity and emotion invested in the argument, far exceeding that of St. Mary students. Was this yet another social aspect from which they had been sheltered from? There, there was a strong sense of ‘taboo’ around the topic, whereby it seemed as if even a whispered anecdotal comment of disapproval could have serious and negative repercussions. As Luke had stated, “you don’t know what the government can do”. This sense of unpredictability and unknown did not allow for them to have a platform upon which clear opinions could be formed and freely vocalised. This muteness could be further explained by the fact that, being of a higher economic status, St. Mary parents may themselves be reliant on the collaboration of government officials to ensure the survival of their various business enterprises. Economically speaking therefore, they have more to lose from being found to speak out of turn thus requiring to treat the subject with caution. Such a portrayal can be seen to ultimately create distinct notions of citizenship between youth in the two schools with one group being more participant and directly invested than the other.
5.3- Juggling dreams of work and pleasure
Despite their subjective differences, the volatile socio-political and socio-economic context presents challenges throughout Zimbabwean society resulting in the displacement of people from all backgrounds. David, the design and technology teacher at Nomvula, had a much bleaker perspective of the state of Zimbabwe compared to the students. Like the head master, he lamented about the government’s failure to provide teachers with adequate remuneration. In his response to my open question on what it was like to live in Zimbabwe, he proceeded to provide me with a historical account of what he viewed as the country’s overall decline.
“Zimbabwe was better when it was Rhodesia. After independence, all the white farmers were chased away and those who took over knew nothing about farming. Now there is high unemployment and families are falling apart because they need money to survive. You can meet a Zimbabwean in every country. People leave and when they leave they will be leaving their kids behind.”
54
I recognised the existence of this phenomenon in both schools when I asked students about their family; a number of students told me that they lived with their aunt, grandparents or older siblings. It was also apparent in the account given to me by St. Mary’s accountant Ida, that she would often receive school fees from abroad. Students would often tell me, “My mum is a nurse in the UK.” “My dad is a mechanic in South Africa.” “My dad lives in Mozambique… he came to visit about a year ago.” Ida saw this widespread lack of continuity and defined familial structure could be seen as having left students without a clear reference point upon which to base their imagined trajectories for the future adding, “they may live with relatives but at the end of the day they miss mum and dad.” Similarly to Brighton’s critique of Tengi’s aspirations, I sensed that in both schools, students ambitions were situated far beyond their present lived realities with goals being based on achieving a high degree of academic success or social status and recognition. The strong desire to succeed was accompanied by practically incoherent imaginings of future life, Roselin at Mopopoma told me,
“By the time I am thirty I will have a husband and kids and I would like to be a lawyer, so I would have studied law and then during my spare time I would actually write novels maybe in America because I would really, really like to travel.”
Once again, the tension between the desire to reconcile personal hobbies with practical occupations is apparent even amongst St. Mary students, many of whom by the age of thirty, sought to be retired sportspeople going on to pursue an academic profession. Alyson:
“At thirty I see myself as being retired and I will be thinking about maybe being a lawyer and I would see myself as a person who, like every time I play a match, people would pay thousands for my racket.”
When speaking of their future, save from nationalist hopeful Tengi and hard lined realist, Tafadzwa, all romanticised accounts of Zimbabwe were disregarded, Uthani: “When I am thirty I will be a housewife with the degree in medicine and I will be living in Carolina in the States because Zimbabwe is boring.” Given the narrative of growing economic hardship that I was consistently being reminded of by relatives, acquaintances and of course in the schools, I felt unable to share in the students’
55 optimism. Instead I was astounded by their determination to circumvent the socio-economic and general circumstantial obstacles that they were faced with. The struggle therefore was not that of the tangible environment in which their being existed, as suggested in Robbins’ view of social oppression, poverty and pain or Wortham’s recognition for the need of improved structural capabilities. Rather the difficulty lay in their ability to resolve the conflicts that existed between the multitude of value spheres within which their sense of selves were being negotiated, transformed and subsequently enacted through subjective decision making. Ultimately these decisions ascertain whether or not determined ideological structures and struggles will persist in the long run or whether perhaps, in the recognition of their existence, they will be consciously addressed and reconfigured.
56 6. Conclusion
“It is in the necessary realities of classroom life where the drama unfolds and assumes meaning [of which] students are both objects and co-producers.” (London, 2002: 54)
In his exploration of the after-effects of colonialism within schooling in Trinidad and Tobago, London (2002) presents his case for the need to analytically deconstruct the relationship between education and the state, and culture and the economy in order to attain an overarching perspective of the intricacies and connections between these former four spheres of society. In doing so, he posits that it becomes easier to comprehend the driving psychology behind the evolution and establishment of ideology and therefore of identity (Ibid.: 54). In a similar vein, this thesis sought to approach an understanding of the products and effects of socio-cultural transformation in Zimbabwe, accelerated by processes of Christianisation and colonialism respectively; specifically relating to how, within the context of a formal educational setting, these have influenced the way in which youth have come to develop their sense of self. I have sought to provide a historical account of the significance of that formal education structures have had in the promotion and foundation of these changes. In order to do so, this thesis critiques the perspective through which the championing organisations of global development, such as PISA and the UN, come to quantify and portray the quality of any given educational system through the measurement of the productive output achieved by economic investment. Instead this thesis presents the case for more contextually specific qualitative analysis of youth’s subjective experiences and how that contributes to the long-term promotion of wellbeing. It is for this reason that understanding the processes of meaning which is fostered in the schooling environment becomes significant such that it contributes to determining what wellbeing, or in Robbin’s terms ‘the good’, is comprised of. In the broader case of Zimbabwe, I have attempted to demonstrate the way in which structural mechanisms of education contributed to the undermining, and in some cases, abandoning of particular aspects of traditional pre-colonial culture. The argument of thesis revolves around the apparent contradictions that I determine to have arisen from the attempt to supplant indigenous practices and ideology with that of modern neo-liberalism such that neither one has been successful in dominating the other resulting in what Mungwini sees as the problematic existence of moral pluralism (2011: 774). Consequently, to this observation, I have striven to disentangle these moralities through the investigation of the narratives presented by
57 students in two socio-economically opposed institutions. By doing this I have been able to analyse the ways in which students from these two sites have been able to reconcile the values and meanings that they have derived from these distinct ideologies. By participating in formal and informal school activities, and engaging in casual conversation with students, I worked towards establishing my position as a non-authoritative figure with whom thoughts and opinions could be shared freely. In this way, I was able to open a dialogue initially geared towards understanding what role schooling played in the organisation of their daily lives and subsequently what sentiments arose as a result. What transpired from St. Mary students was a conflicted feeling of resentment over the time that schooling occupied in their lives alongside the acknowledgement and appreciation for its perceived function and importance in assuring success and prosperity in their future. This appreciation for the value of education was similarly shared at Nomvula however, the time spent at school was met with a very different attitude. Whereas St. Mary students were easily prone to complain about what they viewed as their school’s shortcomings, Nomvula students appeared to overlook these in favour of showcasing the extra-curricular activities that they engaged in and the achievements and opportunities that were being made available to them because of the education that they were receiving. It is from this standpoint that I was able to then further examine the values and morals that were incorporated within these two environments, looking how students related to each other and their teachers. The conflicts between the differing value spheres and ideologies were made apparent in the exploration of these relationships, particularly in the tensions that arose between students at Mopopma. Their various economic situations gave rise to feelings of resentment which I posit as being born out of both competitive drives promoted by neo-liberal ambitions, alongside the expectation of the expression of communal spirit, endorsed by the traditional philosophy of Ubuntu. The direct influences of the mechanisms of the respective educational structures are primarily investigated in the discussions held about modes of discipline. In this way, I aimed to determine the parameters within which students’ agency was expressed; how their ‘being’ was regulated and the way that these forms of regulation were challenged or transgressed. In both cases students communicated their desire to relate to their elders in a way that went beyond the systemic function of their education; instead preferring to cultivate more personal connections through the exchange of humour and opinions. The possibility to do so was only granted at St. Mary through its structural promotion of individuality. The number of students and arrangement of the school day at Nomvula did not allow the time for such exchanges. Furthermore, the hierarchy promoted between students and teachers was based on more traditional forms of paternalistic structure,
58 rendering such an approach inappropriate. It is here that challenges to authority and perhaps the beginnings of ideological shifts can be noted. This was noted in the complaint made by Mr Nkala over the degeneration that had been occurring in the behaviour of students over time. In spite of this, in both cases the influence of institutionally prescribed morality and values remained present. At Nobuhle, students expressed their appreciation for the infliction of corporal punishment, viewing it as an indication of a teacher’s interest and commitment to their personal and educational development. Corporal punishment was not present at St. Mary, however religious discourse related to moral behaviour was openly accepted and incorporated within youth’s own discussions on self-regulation and peer to peer judgement. Here what transpires is which cultural model is most dominant in the two contexts. Although Christian rhetoric was present at Nobuhle, there was a much stronger sense of the value given to traditional youth/elder dynamics in which a child self identifies him or herself as being in an inferior and subordinate position. The more formally structured life skills lessons carried out at St. Mary on the other hand, were more distinctly weighted on the endorsement of colonial forms of religious regulation of the self. The intersectionality of traditional and modern structural realities is brought to light in my final chapter where the surviving aspects of indigenous practices are outlined. Here I demonstrate the manner in which particular cultural traits such as the performance of singing, has been assimilated to the contemporary modern setting, not in conflict with the new structure, but in support of it. The sustained value given to traditionalism is made evident through the continued practice of Lobola and the importance that was assigned to it in the conversations I had at both schools. These two aspects can be seen to have been cherry picked from the patrimony of traditional heritage, as much of the knowledge of pre-colonial indigenous lifestyle appeared to be inaccessible to the present generation of urban youth. They clearly voiced their distain and rejection for elements such as witchcraft that they are familiar with, in favour of Christianity. Much of the inaccessibility of such knowledge to which I refer has been attributed to the hostile socio- economic and socio-political environment in which these youths find themselves, such that it has resulted in the breakdown of stable family nuclei as parents emigrate in search of better economic opportunities. The conflict in identity is most strongly felt in this respect when questioned on whether or not they would leave Zimbabwe, as students expressed both strong attachment and frustration towards their existence in the Zimbabwean context. It is also to the difficulties with which they are faced, that they attribute and value what they view as being their strength in character.
59 Roselin: Tengi, all the knowledge of going to school and stuff, it’s not important if you are not going to get anything from it. If you’re going to school you are expecting to benefit something from your studies right? Tengi: Roselin is a girl right? She goes around picking up bottles, from those bottles she can make curlers. From those curlers, she can sell them. After she has sold them, she can buy paraffin, from that paraffin, she can buy more materials to use, then she makes some drums. Giada: But then why does she go to school? To pick up bottles and sell them, why do you need school for that? Tengi: So that her thinking capacity becomes modern, so that she will be able to know the accounts of the business. You know what mam, as Zimbabweans, all we need to do is to create employment. Here it is not like in America. You say that you are an Anthropologist, here they don’t think like that. For instance, studying flowers, I was actually surprised when you said that there are people who study flowers for a living. Here in Zimbabwe, when you get your O level certificate the jobs that people will first think about is being a nurse, being a teacher, going for A levels and becoming a doctor and being a mechanic or a lawyer. But why don’t they think out of the box?
Through the use of narrative, I have demonstrated the existence of ideological contradictions which youth have nevertheless been able to navigate between when sharing their experiences and accounts of the realities within which they live. Despite the strong influences from both pre-colonial and post-colonial knowledge structures, I view the lack of firmly established cultural coherence as having in fact fostered an environment layered with subtle and intricate multiplicities of the conception of ‘the good’. In my exploration of the dynamics of post-colonial socialisation structures adopted within the private and government school settings, the foundation of student’s selfhood was made apparent in the discussions held about the country. Despite practical grievances communicated with regards to lack of extra-scholastic entertainment or shortages in cash, students from both schools expressed their emotional attachment to Zimbabwe in its significance as being the locality and social context upon which their personal values and principles are rooted. The Christian morality carried over from colonialism provides the basis for the illusion of the existence of a united national ideology. When speaking on the subject of diversity in my interview with St. Mary’s accountant Ida, she firmly stated “We are open to everyone but we are a Christian nation”. The illusionary aspect of ideological cohesion is brought to light by the diverse interpretation of Christianity itself and by the conflicts that occur as a result of the state’s renewed promotion of Ubuntu. The issue lies in the current generation’s disassociation and ignorance of the socio-cultural
60 structures and practices through which the philosophy was originally rationalised and applied; resulting in its fragmented, selective and subjective interpretation. Finally, this subjectivity in combination to the neo-liberal agenda also endorsed by the state, has fostered a drive for economic success, contributing to the further accentuation of ideological diversity. This is such that the lack of stable structural capabilities required to achieve this success, such as formal employment opportunities, has resulted in the need for youth to be imaginative about the ways that they attaining the economic capabilities that modernisation has led them to require and want. The flexibility that is necessitated in order to navigate the intersectionality of these dynamics, has provided added space for the possibility for individuals to subjectively invent themselves in order to survive within the sea moral ideological incoherence therefore resulting in distinct conceptualisations of the good rather than pursuing predetermined overarching socio-cultural objectives referred to by Robbins. The strong message that I received from students in both schools was that opportunity is not a given, waiting to be exploited, rather a reality of one’s own creation. Students at Nomvula recognised their economic limitations however, this did not hinder them from “making a plan” to survive; a common mantra that was widely used. Similarly, although students at St. Mary’s had more economic resources, this did not guarantee success as they also sought opportunity abroad, venturing into unfamiliar territory, rendering their futures equally as uncertain. Such an interpretation of the strive for survival brings to mind a quip that I grew up hearing as the daughter of a member of the Zimbabwean diaspora. “It’s ok, we’ll MacGyver it”, my mum would say to her brother when they were faced with having to find a solution to a tricky situation. This is a phrase that they grew up using in Zimbabwe and which I once again encountered during my time in fieldwork; referencing the 1980’s television character MacGyver who was creatively resourceful in his ability to find a way of surviving seemingly hopeless and impossible life threatening situations. This is the spirit I recognised as being expressed in Tengi’s passionate explanation of the steps a person can take in order to achieve success and also the spirit which characterises the socially transformative potential behind Zimbabwean youth’s conceptualisation of the self.
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