Platform For Youth and Community Development - PYCD

The Platform for Youth and Community Development continues to strengthen community awareness and public understanding of Zimbabwe’s land governance systems amid ongoing land displacements and dispossessions affecting communities in Chipinge. The initiative also comes at a time when national discussions on “Sabhuku Land Deals” have intensified, with increasing concern over informal and illegal land transactions taking place in communal areas.

As part of its community empowerment programme, PYCD is partnering with researchers and academics from the University of Zimbabwe to unpack the historical context, legal framework and policy direction surrounding land administration in Zimbabwe. The engagement seeks to assist affected communities and the general public to better comprehend Zimbabwe’s land laws, customary leadership structures and citizens’ rights in relation to communal and state land.

The organisation is working closely with Dr Bernard Kusena, Advocate Debra Machena and Dr Eric Makombe in facilitating community dialogues, policy discussions and awareness campaigns across affected areas in Chipinge district.

The project will unfold in five key communities, namely Maunganidze featuring Birchenough Bridge, Munyokowere featuring Chipangayi, Mahachi featuring Checheche,Chinyamukwakwa featuring Chisumbanje and Kondo.

According to PYCD, the programme is designed to promote informed public dialogue on land governance, strengthen legal awareness among vulnerable communities and encourage policy literacy at grassroots level. The engagements are also expected to provide communities with an opportunity to interact directly with legal experts, researchers and development practitioners on issues relating to land tenure security, customary authority and rural development.

The project will also take advantage of the community radio movement such as Vemuganga FM with a listenership of over 100 000 people.
Fepa
Media Centre - Zimbabwe
MISA Zimbabwe
Zimbabwe Lawyers for Human Rights
Zimbabwe Council of Churches
Zimbabwe Human Rights Association (ZimRights)
Plan International Zimbabwe
Zimcodd
Zimbabwe Association of Community Radio Stations
Green Institute
International Republican Institute (IRI)

*When Cold Hits the Classroom: Winter, Poverty, and Perseverance in Rural Zimbabwe*

By Artwell Chingwara Sithole

12 May, all roads lead to schools.

Second term begins, and with it comes the familiar pressure of opening day. Gates swing open and parents arrive with envelopes, payment slips, and stories. Some pay in full. Others come for installments. Many, despite the ministry’s circular urging fees to be settled during the holidays, arrive on the first morning to negotiate payment plans. That’s the hustle of opening day — part accounting, part pleading, all of it done under the weight of a new term.

This term is winter. And winter is a different kind of teacher.

It’s hectic just getting kids out of bed before sunrise. The cold bites through blankets and makes every minute under them feel like a small rebellion. I remember it well.

In the 1990s at Rimbi Primary, second term had its own reputation. It wasn’t just the cold. It was the cleanliness inspection. The teacher would run a finger along your collar and neck, and if you came up with _chikoko_ — that dark ring of dirt — you were done. Shame didn’t wash off as easily as the grime. Some kids were so mortified they’d rather miss school than face the class with a stained neck.

Winter didn’t forgive the weak-willed. Kids without determined parents at home stayed away. The cold gave them an excuse. And for those who wet the bed at night, winter was brutal. While the rest of us did a quick half-body wash and finished the rest after school when the sun was out, they had to strip and face full-body cold water before class. You learned quickly why mothers nagged about going to the toilet before bed.

Poverty and weather compound each other here. The ministry says kids must come to school in warm clothes, and you see the compromise everywhere. Schools give leeway — any jersey, any sweater, as long as it keeps the shivers off. In winter, uniform gives way to survival.

At Rimbi High in the early 2000s, the cold had a geography. During assembly, the breeze would roll down from Mwangazi through the Murembwe valley and hit us standing to attention. Singing the national anthem while your teeth chattered felt like standing too close to a fire you couldn’t feel.

But winter also taught resourcefulness. Between lessons, when the sun broke through, we’d scatter to the warmest wall and _kugota mushana_ — soak up the sun like lizards. The vernacular name says it all. It was popular, and it was risky. If Mr Ndangana or Mr Dhliwayo caught you, you’d regret ever thinking ten minutes of heat was worth it. Those two had eyes everywhere, and a free period spent in the sun could turn into a very paid-for detention.

I still remember the hand clap Mr Muchezana gave me. May his soul rest. It was one of a kind — sharp, sudden, unforgettable. The kind of discipline that made you stand straighter for the rest of the day.

Opening day is always a scramble. Fees, jerseys, early mornings, inspections. But for those of us who grew up in Rimbi, second term was never just about lessons. It was about enduring the cold, outsmarting _chikoko_, and finding ten minutes of sun before the next bell.

Winter made us tough. And tomorrow, it starts again.