THE streets of Harare, and many other urban centres in Zimbabwe, tell a story of resilience, ingenuity and often hidden struggle.
Among the bustling markets and traffic-choked intersections, a poignant reality unfolds daily: children, no older than my own children, sifting through waste.
This is not a game; it is a harsh economic necessity. It is a silent backdrop to our nation's growth that demands our collective attention and action.
Recent events, such as the widely circulated picture of young Mukudzei Umali picking litter at Rufaro Stadium, served as a stark, if fleeting, spotlight on this pervasive issue.
The immediate outpouring of sympathy and philanthropic intervention was heartening.
It showed our capacity for compassion, our willingness to reach out and offer a lifeline to a family in dire straits.
Yet, as the headlines fade and the camera crews depart, we must ask ourselves: what about the countless other Mukudzeis whose stories remain untold, their struggles unseen by the wider public?
The involvement of children in the waste economy cannot be viewed simply as an unfortunate circumstance affecting a few individuals; it reflects deeper systemic issues tied to poverty, weak social protection measures, and the fragmented nature of urban governance.
These children are more than just "waste pickers".
They form an invisible workforce within the informal economy, recovering recyclable materials from overflowing dumpsites and, in an unsettling paradox, contributing to some extent to the cleanliness of towns at the expense of their own health, education and well-being.
The costs carried by these young shoulders are immense and enduring. Daily exposure to sharp objects, toxic fumes and infectious waste leaves them vulnerable.
Many suffer from respiratory illnesses, skin diseases, and untreated injuries that compound over time.
These risks are not small inconveniences but serious threats to children's growth and development, often setting the stage for lasting health problems in adulthood.
The dangers extend beyond the physical. Participation in waste economies consistently undermines education, as every day spent collecting bottles or scrap metal is a day taken from the classroom.
In such moments, the urgency of survival outweighs the long-term investment in their learning and future potential.
This perpetuates a cruel cycle, trapping them in the very poverty they are trying to escape, limiting their prospects for upwards mobility and deepening social exclusion.
Zimbabwe has, on paper, made commendable commitment to child protection. Our Children's Act and Labour Act prohibit hazardous child work and we are signatories to international conventions like the Zimbabweon the Rights of the Child.
These frameworks establish a clear legal and ethical foundation for safeguarding our children.
However, the chasm between principle and practice remains wide. Limited resources, inconsistent enforcement and lack of monitoring mechanisms mean that these vital protections often fail to reach the most vulnerable, particularly those operating in the informal sector of our urban landscapes.
The prevailing socio-economic conditions further complicate matters. Widespread joblessness, low household incomes and the escalating cost of living force many families to make impossible choices.
For them, a child's contribution to waste collection is not an optional extra but a necessary means to put food on the table, pay rent or cover urgent medical bills. To simply condemn this work without addressing its root causes is to overlook the desperate realities faced by these families every single day.
So, what is the path forward? It requires a multi-faceted approach that moves beyond reactive philanthropy to embrace systemic, sustainable solutions. Firstly, we must strengthen our social protection systems.
Evidence unequivocally demonstrates the link between household poverty and child involvement in hazardous work.
Targeted cash transfers, school feeding programmes, fee subsidies and provision of uniforms can alleviate immediate financial pressures, enabling families to prioritise education over exploitation.
These interventions must be robust, responsive to economic shocks and accessible to all vulnerable households, not just a select few.
Secondly, the informal waste sector cannot simply be wished away. It is an integral, albeit often unrecognised, part of our urban economies. Instead of criminalising its participants, municipal authorities should explore formalisation strategies that integrate adult waste collectors into regulated frameworks.
This could involve establishing safe collection points, providing protective gear and ensuring fair pricing for recyclables.
By dignifying and supporting adult waste workers, we can reduce the necessity for children to engage in hazardous activities. This is not an endorsement of child labour, but a pragmatic step towards restructuring waste management to ensure that the burden no longer falls on children.
Thirdly, enforcement of existing laws must be combined with sustained awareness campaigns. Punitive measures alone often exacerbate vulnerability, driving children into even more hidden and dangerous forms of labour. Educational initiatives for communities, schools and businesses can raise awareness about the dangers of child labour, the rights of children and viable economic and educational alternatives. This reality calls for a sense of shared responsibility.
Child labour must no longer be viewed as a private issue confined to families but as a collective concern that demands coordinated community action. Above all, access to quality education should be guaranteed for every child.
This requires not only the removal of direct costs such as fees, books and uniforms, but also recognition of indirect burdens, including the income families lose when children attend school instead of working.
For those who have already fallen behind, flexible and inclusive catch-up programmes are vital. Without such measures, children risk being permanently excluded from learning opportunities.
The experience of Mukudzei speaks to both our common humanity and the possibility of change. It reminds us that the solution cannot rest solely on isolated acts of kindness.
What is needed is a social commitment to build a world where no child's survival depends on scavenging through streets and dumpsites.
Policies that guarantee access to education, healthcare and the basic joys of childhood are not optional; they are urgent obligations. Only by taking such steps can we turn the silent struggles of these hidden hands into stories of dignity, safety and hope.
* Simbarashe Kanyimo is a Senior Researcher with the Africa University Child Rights Research Centre, Mutare. His email is: [email protected]. The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any organisation, publication, or entity.