Saana
Hansen,
University
of
Helsinki
The
old
industrial
city,
where
businesses
have
declined
and
shops
and
restaurants
struggle
to
survive,
fills
temporarily
with
cars
with
South
African
number
plates
and
people
dressed
in
trendy
clothes
signalling
urban
South
African
lifestyles.
Trailers
are
loaded
with
remittances
known
as
“Christmas
boxes”
containing
cooking
oil,
soap
and
other
groceries.
A
jumping
castle
is
erected
in
the
park,
and
popular
music
merges
with
laughter
in
the
restaurants.
These
are
historically
rooted
signs
of
achievement
and
success
earned
abroad.
They
are
a
refashioned
form
of
the
festive
season
of
colonial-era
injivas:
men
from
the
Matabeleland
region
of
Zimbabwe
who
worked
in
South
African
mines
and
farms,
returning
home
typically
once
a
year
with
gifts.
Yet,
it
is
common
knowledge
that
this
performance
is
often
hard-earned,
and
injivas
–
both
women
and
men
–
struggle
to
meet
these
expectations.
The
real-life
migration
experiences
include
economic
and
legal
uncertainties
and
discrimination
in
the
labour
market,
low
wages
and
difficulty
in
sending
remittances
home.
Amid
the
festive
return
lies
a
quieter
and
more
solemn
south-north
movement
–
that
of
Zimbabwean
migrants
who
have
passed
away
and
are
taking
their
final
journey
home.
Contrasting
with
the
festivities
surrounding
Christmas
visits,
the
coffin-shaped
trailers
along
the
A6
highway
from
the
Beitbridge
border
post
to
Bulawayo
are
a
reminder
that
migration’s
promise
of
prosperity
comes
with
risk
and
loss.
This
homecoming,
which
I
studied
for
my
PhD
in
anthropology
and
have
described
in
a
recent
paper,
is
shaped
by
bureaucracy,
cost
and
intergenerational
care.
The
study
reveals
how
a
life-sustaining
web
of
care
is
maintained.
It
contributes
to
anthropological
discussions
on
migration,
kinship,
the
state,
documentary
practices,
law
and
development.
The
moral
duty
and
economic
headache
of
return
The
migration
pattern
between
Zimbabwe
and
South
Africa
has
its
roots
in
colonial-era
labour
migration
and
has
intensified
since
Zimbabwe’s
independence
in
1980.
In
the
early
2000s,
Zimbabwe’s
economic
collapse,
marked
by
hyperinflation,
political
violence
and
mass
unemployment,
drove
millions
to
seek
economic
opportunities
and
protection
in
South
Africa.
Estimating
the
number
of
Zimbabweans
in
South
Africa
is
difficult
due
to
the
largely
unregulated
nature
of
this
mobility,
but
figures
generally
range
between
one
million
and
three
million.
Although
deceased
migrants,
documented
or
not,
can
be
buried
in
South
African
soil,
bringing
a
body
home
is
a
vital
act
in
Zimbabwe,
as
in
many
other
African
contexts.
It
is
to
restore
the
deceased
to
the
lineage
and
to
enable
the
spirit
to
be
mourned
and
settled
so
it
will
protect
younger
generations.
Failing
to
do
so
risks
spiritual
and
social
disorder.
The
respectful
return
in
death,
like
the
festive
Christmas
return
of
the
able-bodied
injivas,
reinforces
ties
between
generations.
Despite
the
religious
and
cultural
importance
of
burial
at
home,
repatriating
a
body
from
South
Africa
poses
economic
challenges
to
a
family.
It’s
not
only
a
moral
duty
but
also
a
financial
burden.
So,
in
principle,
only
those
whose
death
has
been
unforeseen
return
in
coffins.
Those
who
can
will
return
home
before
they
die
to
save
the
cost
of
repatriation.
Families
make
extraordinary
efforts
to
make
repatriation
possible.
Relatives
collect
and
borrow
money,
and
reach
out
to
kin
across
borders.
Burial
societies
mobilise
payments
from
their
members
to
collect
the
funds
for
embalming,
transportation,
paperwork
and
funerals.
These
obligations
reveal
the
importance
of
the
ancestral
continuity
being
an
economic
matter,
and
sustenance
of
family
welfare
continuing
after
death.
Formal
and
informal
burial
societies
Since
the
1990s,
Bulawayo’s
once-thriving
industries
have
largely
collapsed,
leaving
its
old
mills
and
factories
deserted
or
refunctioning
as
spaces
for
religious
congregations,
education
and
garages.
Amid
these
modest
ventures,
funeral
services
stand
out
in
the
city’s
otherwise
melancholic
landscape.
As
Zimbabwe’s
economic
and
political
instability
pushes
many
to
seek
livelihoods
in
South
Africa,
the
funeral
industry
has
expanded.
The
Beitbridge
border,
crossing
the
Limpopo
River
between
Zimbabwe
and
South
Africa,
has
long
organised
the
movement
of
labour
and
remittances,
governing
also
the
return
of
bodies.
Indeed,
funeral
parlours
and
burial
societies
date
back
to
the
colonial
era
when
injured
and
dead
migrants
had
to
be
sent
home.
Today,
carrying
prosperous
names
such
as
Doves,
Kings
&
Queens
and
African
Pride,
funeral
parlours
function
as
key
institutions
in
managing
transnational
death.
Besides
these
licensed
funeral
services,
people
belong
to
informal
money
pooling
societies
that
mobilise
money
collectively
to
cover
the
cost
of
death.
While
some
collect
steady
monthly
deposits,
others
gather
money
ad
hoc
during
emergencies.
These
societies
blur
boundaries
between
formal
and
informal
systems.
Many
“undocumented”
migrants,
who
cannot
have
bank
accounts,
participate
through
friends
or
relatives
with
legal
status,
contributing
to
pooled
funds
tracked
via
mobile
communication
apps
and
bank
transfer
receipts.
Societies
sustain
solidarity
networks,
and
transparent
contributions
signal
both
moral
and
financial
responsibility,
shaping
participants’
social
standing.
Bureaucracies
of
transnational
death
Between
the
death
and
the
burial,
numerous
legal
and
bureaucratic
steps
must
be
completed,
from
obtaining
death
certificates
and
health
clearances
to
coordinating
with
South
African
and
Zimbabwean
authorities.
Often,
identity
documents
from
Zimbabwe
need
to
be
collected
to
prove
that
the
deceased
is
a
Zimbabwean
national.
When
the
deceased
has
not
revealed
their
identity
to
the
South
African
authorities
and
remains
“undocumented”,
or
has
two
legal
identities,
the
disparity
needs
to
be
explained
in
affidavits.
These
administrative
steps
are
not
simply
procedural;
they
are
part
of
the
politics
of
death.
The
paperwork
that
allows
a
body
to
move,
such
as
a
stamp,
a
signature,
or
an
affidavit,
is
both
a
form
of
recognition
and
a
reminder
of
inequality.
While
some
deaths
can
move
across
borders
with
relative
ease,
others
become
delayed
or
trapped
in
institutional
procedures.
Bureaucracy
is
a
space
where
care,
legality
and
belonging
intertwine.
State
officials
may
draw
not
only
on
formal
guidelines
but
also
their
cultural
logics
of
care.
They
are
central
in
navigating
the
legal
and
bureaucratic
challenges.
Immigration
officers
might
be
sympathetic
and
share
the
cultural
understanding
of
the
importance
of
returning
home
respectably.
The
homecoming
of
the
dead
mirrors,
in
reverse,
the
December
journeys
of
the
living.
Both
are
seasonal
movements
that
bind
families
across
generations,
space
and
time.
The
same
routes
that
carried
migrants
south
in
search
of
work
now
carry
their
bodies
northward,
accompanied
by
papers,
payments
and
prayers.
In
the
end,
the
bureaucracies
that
regulate
transnational
death
are
not
merely
state
procedures,
but
central
to
how
families
remake
connection,
dignity
and
belonging
under
precarious
conditions.
Saana
Hansen,
Postdoctoral
Researcher
in
Social
and
Cultural
Anthropology,
University
of
Helsinki
This
article
is
republished
from
The
Conversation
under
a
Creative
Commons
license.
Read
the
original
article.
