POETIC LICENCE RABBIE SERUMULA

HE LOOKS through binoculars, static blurs on his walkie-talkie when he presses it to speak – “the Zimbabweans are coming”.

He is one of the 200 armed Border Management Authority (BMA) guards deployed at Beitbridge border post in Limpopo, at five “identified vulnerable parts” of the border.

From a distance he saw them, indistinct shadows bouncing on the horizon, a crowd of Zimbabwean families approaching, bags in hands they had opted to voluntarily return home.

We can argue whether they knew or not that they were falling, but there was a catch.

And as far as their gamble went, the odds were forever against them.

It was less than a month ago when Limpopo Health MEC Phophi Ramathuba claimed in a viral video that Zimbabweans were placing strain on the province’s healthcare system – they were ostracised.

The six-month extension of the Zimbabwean Exemption Permit from the end of December 2022 to June 2023 may have brought some relief to nearly 180 000 permit holders. But they will soon find themselves undocumented, as will thousands of their children born in South Africa and have never been to the country of their parents.

Those volunteering to return to Zimbabwe encounter the armed BMA guard with binoculars around his neck and a walkie-talkie on hand, speaking – “the Zimbabweans have arrived”.

However, some Zimbabweans trying to leave South Africa at the Beitbridge border are ordered to go back to South Africa because they don’t have valid documents.

If they go back they risk being arrested – they do not know if they are coming home or going to prison.

Military personnel are trained to take orders, not to give a damn.

I doubt the armed BMA guard with binoculars around his neck and a walkietalkie in hand wondered if people who would like to go back to their home countries should not be allowed to pass through the normal port of entry – a “good riddance” type of send-off, if you may, instead of pinning people to a desperate choice: to remain in South Africa as undocumented migrants with all the vulnerability that attaches to such status or return to a Zimbabwe that remains unchanged from the country they fled.

It is harsh to rub the faces of humans on the blood they bled.

If military personnel were trained to give a damn, the BMA guard would press his walkie-talkie and say, “the Zimbabweans are stuck. Shouldn’t we just let them through now instead of arresting them later, sending them to Lindela prison and deporting them another time?”

It is, after all, the taxpayers’ money wasted on this exercise that will force people to return through illegal routes, only making them more vulnerable, risking their lives.

The only possible option for many Zimbabweans is going back home. Better the devil they know than one that burns them alive.

He looks through binoculars, static blurs on his walkie-talkie when he presses it to speak – “the Zimbabweans are coming back to South Africa”.