A friend of mine from Hwedza in rural Zimbabwe tells the story of how, at the height of the economic crisis in that country, teachers at mission schools (which were established by mainly the Catholic and Anglican churches) held the fort.
He explains how, when the economy collapsed and inflation reached levels never seen before anywhere in the world, parents could no longer pay for school fees, buy stationery or provide any kind of subsistence for their children, including those in mission boarding schools.
What made the situation worse was that the Zimbabwe government stopped providing any subsidies or food support to schools.
The fiscus was so constrained that key welfare programmes were ceased without any alternative plans being made.
It was a dire situation, he recalls.
But teachers in mission schools in rural Zimbabwe, unpaid for months at a time, barely able to make ends meet, found ways not only to continue teaching but to also feed the many hungry pupils.
With produce from their smallholder farms and meagre remittances from relatives in the diaspora, the teachers in rural Zimbabwe kept pupils in classes and performed miracles.
It was more than a decade ago when I heard this story told to me on the steps of the Rhodes University library by my friend, who is now an economist.
But on June 2 2025, I read an article in this newspaper which reminded me of that conversation.
The article, with the haunting headline “Swamped teachers expected to perform miracles”, tells the distressing story of the teaching and learning conditions at Bongolethu Primary and Glentana Junior Primary in Nqweba (formerly Kirkwood), situated in the heart of the Eastern Cape’s citrus belt, which is the largest citrus-producing province in SA.
Despite this, it contains some of the poorest parts of the country, with unemployment and poverty levels above the national average.
The article details how, in these schools, classrooms meant for 30 pupils are forced to accommodate more than twice that number, with 70 sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in schools with deteriorating infrastructure.
Teachers in Nqweba, like the teachers in rural Zimbabwe at the height of the economic crisis, endure these teaching conditions with limited to no support from parents.
In the case of Zimbabwe, the lack of parental involvement was due to the devastating effects of the HIV/Aids epidemic which left many children orphaned, the fleeing of many parents to the diaspora in search for jobs to send money back home, as well as the inertia which poverty brings.
In the case of Nqweba, the lack of parental involvement stems from over-burdened parents, many of them single mothers, as well as low literacy and numeracy levels which make it impossible for them to assist their children.
It is sad that parents who are living in such a situation send their children to school so they can improve these conditions, only for schools to be places which recycle and facilitate structural poverty.
Non-government organisations in the Eastern Cape must seriously consider taking the national and provincial education departments to court over the failure to implement norms and standards, which refer to a set of regulations that define the minimum requirements for schools, including infrastructure, resources and funding.
These standards ensure that all schools, regardless of their locations or funding levels, provide a basic, functional educational environment.
It should not be acceptable that while public schools in other provinces are being transformed into classrooms of the future, with some of the most advanced digital infrastructure, teachers in the rural Eastern Cape must endure facilitating teaching under such perilous conditions.
Teachers in these schools deserve better support and treatment.
The Herald
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