She had heard of menial jobs and xenophobic attacks in South Africa.
She knew of crocodiles that lurked at the Limpopo River, but she had to cross it.
How could she risk her youthful life crossing the crocodile-infested Limpopo River?
How could she go to a place where menial jobs were her best bet when she was educated?
Atrocities had robbed her of a breadwinner. Donors chipped in with difficulty.
She was a child then. When she was at university there was an economic meltdown.
She had felt the grim effects of failed policies. She was fed up with marginalisation too.
Young, she was in search of a better life, an enabling environment. Did she have a choice?
She loved the place where her umbilical cord was buried—Nkayi—but it was undeveloped.
She had to go down south via the neglected Nkayi –Bulawayo road. She had to eke out a living.