Sibanda,
who
worked
in
one
of
Zimbabwe’s
artisanal
mines,
pictured
with
his
grandson
(Picture:
Gergana
Krasteva)
Metro’s
foreign
correspondent
Gergana
Krasteva
reports
from
Zimbabwe
Beads
of
sweat
drip
down
Gilbert
Nuovu’s
forehead
as
the
memories
of
working
in one
of
Zimbabwe’s
gold
mines rush
back
in.
Over
a
year
ago,
the
dad-of-two
deserted
his
job
after
a
colleague
was
killed
when
the
walls
of
the
pit
caved
in,
burying
him
alive.
‘A
friend
of
mine
died
on
the
spot.
I
was
afraid
for
my
life,
so
I
went
back
home,’
he
tells Metro.
The
road
into
Matabeleland
North,
150
miles
from
the
city
of
Bulawayo,
is
uneven
and
thick
with
dust,
but
I
am
assured
that
it
will
eventually
lead
to
a
gold
mine.
It
is
one
of
the
many
precious
materials
for
which
the
land
here
has
been
exploited
since
before
British
colonial
rule,
with
the
first
extractions
made
as
early
as
the
14th
century.
As
our
SUV
crawls
forward,
a
line
of
workers
stretches
along
the
footpath
–
boys
barely
into
their
teens
and
weathered
men
three
times
their
age.
Most
are
wearing
the
same
faded
blue
overalls,
and
chipped
shovels
slung
over
their
shoulders
–
a
sign
they work in
one
of
the
legal
mines.
Matabeleland
North
sits
on
some
of
the
richest
deposits
of
gold
in
Africa,
and
so
is
plagued
with
artisanal
pits,
which
are
not
officially
registered
with
the government,
making
them
illegal.
Metro gained
access
to
Turk,
one
of
the
oldest
gold
mines
in
Zimbabwe,
located
in
the
Bubbi
District
(Picture:
Gergana
Krasteva)
Yet,
tens
of
thousands
of
men
and
women
are
forced
into
the
trade
due
to
unemployment,
making
up
the
majority
of
the
mining
workforce.
‘Three
of
my
friends
were
killed
in
the
mines’
Gordon
Sibanda
used
to
be
one
of
them.
Metro speaks
with
him
at
the
Libeni
Primary School,
where
he
volunteers
as
a
chef
to
somehow
contribute
to
the
local
community
while
searching
for
work.
Sitting
on
a
wooden
log
and
smoothing
his
cooking
apron,
he
admits
that
poverty
is
what
drove
him
to
mining
in
2001,
when
he
was
39.
He
says:
‘A
friend
introduced
me
to
the
trade.
Many
of
my
friends
are
still
in
the
pits
to
this
day.
‘Mining
is
strenuous
labor.
You
can
spend
months
searching
for
a
mineral
you
cannot
see
and
do
not
know
if
it
is
actually
in
the
earth.
‘And
when
luck
would
fall
on
our
side,
you
may
get
something.’
In
Zimbabwe’s
mines,
death
never
seems
far.
So
when
I
ask
Gordon
if
any
of
his
colleagues
were
injured
or
killed
in
the
pits,
he
replies,
almost
nonchalantly,
as
he
takes
off
his
woolen
beanie:
‘Ah
yes.
Three
have
been
killed
when
the
mines
collapsed. ‘
Disintegrated
shafts,
explosions,
flooding
–
each
shift
carries
the
chance
that
a
worker
will
not
return
home.
As
many
as
237
people
died
in
incidents
in
2023,
making
it
one
of
the
very
worst
years
in
the
country’s
mining
history.
And
up
until
May
this
year,
59
fatal
incidents
were
reported
–
most
in
illegal
mines,
like
the
one
that
Gordon
worked
in.
To
fully
comprehend
the
vast
scale
of
illegal
mining, Metro sits
down
with
Pumulu
Masu,
government
school
inspector,
who
says
that
most
people
in
Matabeleland
North
dig
without
a
permit,
which
means
the
state
does
not
‘profit’
from
it.
‘Mostly,
people
in
the
area
mine
illegally,’
she
explains.
‘Let’s
say
there
is
an
agricultural
field.
Instead
of
a
farm,
they
will
turn
it
into
a
mine.
‘Even
in
their
personal
properties
–
behind
their
homes
–
people
start
to
dig.
‘We
can
always
tell
by
the
maps
of
soil.
If
people
suspect
there
is
gold,
they
will
always
dig
no
matter
what
the
land
is.’
While
Gordon
worked
in
an
illegal
pit,
Gilbert
has
experience
in
a
registered
mine.
Their
only
piece
of
advice
–
what
they
want
everyone
to
know
–
is
‘do
not
do
it,
do
not
work
in
a
mine,’
pointing
to
how
deadly
the
trade
is.
Gilbert
says:
‘The
pit
is
not
that
strong
as
miners
often
dig
tunnels
[without
much
planning],
making
the
walls
weak.
‘We
are
not
given
helmets
or
boots
to
protect
us.
It
is
difficult
to
survive.
‘The
work
is
just
too
much.
In
mines,
there
are
no
set
working
hours.You
work
and
you
stop
when
it
is
time
to
eat,
then
you
go
back
to
work.
It
is
continuous,
we
do
not
stop.’
Labour
exploitation
and
low
pay
in
mines
In
Zimbabwe,
mining
runs
through
generations
like
a
vein
of
gold
itself.
It
is
often
seen
as
a
rite
of
passage
for
children
as
young
as
nine,
and
at
the
same
time
a
lifeline
for
families
in
the
depths
of
poverty.
now
volunteers
as
a
chef
at
his
children’s
school
(Picture:
Gergana
Krasteva)
Though
the
pay
is
still
meagre.
All
the
money
Gordon
earned
was
spent
on
food
for
his
large
family,
all
13
of
them.
At
the
time,
he
was
the
sole
breadwinner
for
his
wife,
three
sons
and
three
daughters,
his
own
parents
and
siblings.
‘Hand
to
mouth,
nothing
else
[is
left],’
he
adds,
gesturing
at
his
grandson,
a
four-year-old
boy
playing
with
his
friends
a
few
metres
away.
Yet,
despite
facing
unemployment,
Gordon
has
not
given
mining
another
thought
because
of
the
precarious
conditions.
Like
him,
Gilbert
also
did
not
live
a
life
of
luxury
–
but
he
was
under
no
such
illusions
when
he
picked
up
a
shovel.
After
three
months
of
digging,
he
was
paid
around
$20,
and
only
after
gold
was
actually
discovered.
Miners
divvy
up
half
the
proceeds,
while
the
rest
goes
straight
to
the
owner’s
pocket.
There
are
other
dangers
too.
The
industry
has
long
been
linked
to
human
rights
abuses,
environmental
violations
and
labour
exploitation,
particularly
in
lithium
mines
operated
by China,
despite
denials
by
Zimbabwe’s
government.
About
70%
of
all
lithium
is
processed
there.
Robert
Mugabe’s
successor,
president
Emmerson
Mnangagwa,
of
ZANU-PF,
has
so
far
supported
the
takeovers,
arguing
they
will
bring
economic
growth.
Perhaps
this
has
materialised
in
the
capital,
Harare;
yet,
on
the
ground,
in
Matabeleland
North,
the
mines
have
brought
little
benefits
–
if
any
–
to
the
local
community.
Inside
one
of
the
oldest
gold
mines
in
Zimbabwe
Metro gained
access
to
Turk,
one
of
the
oldest
gold
mines
in
Zimbabwe,
located
in
the
Bubbi
District.
Armed
security
usually
guard
gold
mines,
but
today
luck
has
fallen
on
our
side
–
at
least
for
a
few
minutes.
Piles
of
reddish
earth
and
stones
mount
inside
the
compound.
A
dragline
excavator
in
the
distance
seems
to
have
dosed
off,
but
only
momentarily.
The
mine
itself
gapes
before
us,
an
abyss
carved
so
deep
and
wide
that,
when
peering
over
the
edge,
the
bottom
is
not
visible.
Across
the
road
from
the
pit,
a
supermarket
and
two
bars
stand
shoulder
to
shoulder,
their
doors
flung
wide
open.
A
few
men
have
gathered
around
a
plastic
table,
kicking
dust
with
their
feet
as
they
chat.
This
is
the
heart
of
what
is
accepted
as
the
traditional
mining
community
in
Zimbabwe.
There
are
no
clinics
or
schools,
or
in
fact
any
other
reliable
infrastructure
apart
from
the
mine.
Alcohol
abuse
is
rife
in
mining
communities
Bars
are
always
the
first
to
spring
up
whenever
gold
is
unearthed,
offering
miners
a
place
to
unwind
and
spend
their
hard-earned
cash
in.
As
I
come
to
learn,
this
has
also
led
to
alcohol
abuse
among
workers
who
use
drinking
as
a
coping
mechanism.
A
source,
who
wished
to
remain
anonymous,
tells Metro:
‘You
cannot
put
a
figure
on
how
many
people
have
died
because
of
it.
Some
have
been
found
dead
on
pavements.’
Workers’
deaths
are
often
blamed
on
the
rise
in
popularity
of
an
illicit
brew
called
‘krango’,
which
can
cause
severe
organ
damage,
and
is
associated
with
soaring
rates
of
binge
drinking.
My
source
explains
that
it
is
mostly
made
from
ethanol
concentrate
diluted
with
large
amounts
of
water,
adding:
‘Krango
is
what
it
is
all
about
in
rural
areas.
It
is
packed
in
bottles
of
250ml.
What
are
the
effects
of
sanctions
on
Zimbabwe?
Sanctions
on
Zimbabwe
were
first
introduced
in
the
early
2000s,
mainly
by
the
UK,
the
EU,
and
the
US,
amid
allegations
of
human
rights
abuses,
electoral
fraud,
and
Robert
Mugabe’s
land
reform
programme.
These
measures
are
not
broad
trade
embargoes.
They
focus
on
asset
freezes
and
travel
bans
on
senior
government
officials
linked
to
the
state.
The
US
also
brought
out
the
Zimbabwe
Democracy
and
Economic
Recovery
Act
(ZDERA)
in
2001,
which
restricted
its
access
to
international
financial
institutions.
While
the
sanctions
target
political
elites,
the
Zimbabwean
government
argues
they
have
deterred
foreign
investment
and
limited
lines
of
credit
–
so
much
so
that
the
now
vice
president
Constantino
Chiwenga
said
the
country
had
lost
more
than
$150
billion.
‘Some
are
even
packed
by
legitimate
companies.
It
is
sold
for
just
$0.50,
and
the
strength
is
usually
around
40%
strength.’
Real
benefactors
of
Zimbabwe’s
natural
wealth
Despite
the
reported
issues
plaguing
Zimbabwe’s
mines,
the
government
is
hellbent
on
expanding
the
industry
–
the
faster,
the
better.
For
a
nation
that
fought
so
hard
to
rid
itself
from
colonial
rule,
it
now
relies
on
investors
from
China,
South
Africa,
Australia,
Canada
and
the
UK,
and
it
is
eager
to
attract
more.
The
sector
as
a
whole
accounts
for
more
than
60%
of
export
revenues
and
13%
of
gross
domestic
product
(GDP),
according
to
national
statistics
from
2023.
To
increase
those
numbers,
the
Zimbabwean
government
introduced
the
‘Vision
2030’
plan
to
become
an
upper-middle-income
economy
by
the
end
of
the
decade.
Supposedly,
one
of
the
key
objectives
is
to
grow
the
mining
sector
to
have
a
revenue
of
$12
billion
per
year.
It
makes
money,
that
is
for
sure,
though
not
for
the
small
miner
like
Gordon
or
Gilbert.
They
are
currently
unemployed
and
living
with
the
memories
of
the
hell
inside
the
mines.
Metro
travelled
to
Zimbabwe
with
the
help
of Mary’s
Meals,
a
Scottish-based
charity
feeding
children
in
the
country.
Post
published
in:
Business