Their visits are not just about family reunions, they are a
lifeline for Inna as they will be providing her with much-needed water and
firewood. There are times when Inna goes through weeks without laying eyes on
the boys. In those moments, the compassionate neighbours step in, recognising
that the frail octogenarian cannot manage the arduous task of fetching water
and collecting firewood on her own. The teens are usually absent from the
homestead, engrossed in their own demanding pursuits.
The teens spend all their time in the forest, cutting down
trees and shuttling between Chesa Village and Old Pumula suburb selling
firewood to residents. Chesa Village, though sparsely populated, is a hive of
activity most of the time. Villagers toil in the fields during the planting and
harvesting seasons while at the same time looking after their cattle, donkeys
and goats, the primary sources of wealth and sustenance.
However, a shadow looms over these idyllic scenes. Firewood
poaching, a thriving yet illegal trade, has taken root in villages like Chesa
and others on the outskirts of Bulawayo, extending deep into vast forests
stretching towards Nyamandlovu and the surrounding farms. Over the years, this
illicit source of income has seduced schoolchildren away from their classrooms
in pursuit of scarce ‘‘employment’’ opportunities within their villages.
Mduduzi Nkomo and Makheleni Nkomo, both 18 years old, couldn’t resist the lure
of the firewood poaching business five years ago when they were 13 and doing
Grade Seven at nearby Chesa Primary School. Two months before writing Grade
Seven examinations, the boys ditched school and joined an older crew already
involved in the firewood poaching business.
The poached firewood ends up on sale in Emakhandeni in
Bulawayo
It’s not a business for the faint-hearted as the poachers
spend days on end cutting down trees in the forest while hiding from the
police, Environmental Management Agency (EMA) officials and Forestry Commission
rangers. After cutting enough firewood to fill up a donkey-drawn scotch cart,
the firewood is transported to Bulawayo in the dead of the night.
Safety in numbers is a cardinal rule that the firewood
poachers stick to, thus they normally move in groups consisting of usually
three scotch carts at any given time. Laden with firewood, the scotch carts
begin the journey to Bulawayo late at night.
“Mduduzi and Makheleni did not leave school because there
was no money, their parents are in South Africa so school fees was never an
issue. They are not the only ones that stopped going to school to join the
firewood business, a lot of boys here in the village are doing it. Almost every
homestead has a boy who is into the business or left school because they say
education will not help them in any way.
“Two of my donkeys are used by Mduduzi and Makheleni and I
hardly see them for days, if not weeks. Whenever I want firewood or water, I
have to ask their friends to pass on the message when they meet in the bush.
Sometimes they come right away or they stay in the bush and come home when they
feel like,” said Gogo Nkomo.
Thembelani Mathe is a hard working mother of four who works
for teachers at Chesa Primary School taking care of the educators’ babies and
cleaning the houses in addition to her own family back at home. Mathe knows
first-hand the pain of helplessly watching a child ditch primary school for a
job that can potentially land him in jail.
Her second born son, 15-year-old Prosper Mathe, turned his
back on school in 2021 to join a firewood poaching crew. Young Prosper did not
even wait to finish Grade Seven. Half way into the first term in Grade Seven,
the lad traded his pen for a whip on a donkey driven scotch cart as he
transports firewood from Chesa village to Bulawayo.
“What could I do to stop him? He had made up his mind and
forcing him to go to school was not going to work. He was simply going to wake
up and pretend he was going to school but spend the day cutting down trees for
firewood. It’s painful to watch my son choose this kind of life but what can I
do?” asked Mathe.
She says her son tries to come back home at least once a
week.
“The man that Prosper works for owns a house in Old Pumula
so he buys groceries that side and brings them back home whenever he gets a
chance. As a mother I fear for his well-being, he might act tough but he is
only 15-years-old and works with boys and men way older than him,” added Mathe.
Another villager, Ndaba Sibanda said water shortages in the
area compound the situation, making it difficult for youths to venture into
self-sustaining projects such as brick moulding or nutrition gardens.
“There is no hope for these boys. If they don’t go into the
firewood poaching business, there is nothing else that they can do to make a
living. This place has no water, it’s so dry that we can’t even do projects
such as brick moulding or grow vegetables.
“We are not lazy, if the Government can drill boreholes for
us and install JoJo tanks, we will grow vegetables all year round and take our
produce to Bulawayo markets,” said Sibanda.
He says as long as job opportunities remain scarce, more
school children will stop going to class for an easier way out which is
firewood poaching.
The Forestry Commission, in a workshop attended by
stakeholders including journalists last year, highlighted that firewood
poaching and charcoal production significantly contribute to deforestation in
the country. It was noted that a majority of firewood vendors are not licensed
and rely on supplies sourced illegally, usually bought for a song from firewood
poachers eager to get the commodity off their hands as quickly as possible.
On our drive back to Bulawayo, the Saturday Chronicle ran
into a group of boys and men riding three scotch carts and as soon as the car
stopped for an interview request, three boys bolted into the bush.
One of the men said the boys might have panicked after
mistaking the news crew vehicle for a Forestry Commission car. He, however,
refused to divulge if they were coming from Bulawayo to offload firewood in Old
Pumula suburb.
One of the many places where the illegally sourced firewood
ends up in the open market is a bustling joint in Emakhandeni suburb. The place
is commonly known as ‘enkunini’ in reference to the firewood that is sold
there.
“People from EMA come here from time to time to check on
our licenses but I can tell you that most of the firewood comes from those boys
in Old Pumula. They bring the firewood from the forest at night, we buy it from
them early in the morning around 3am and bring it here. That’s how this
business has always been for years,” said the vendor who refused to be named.
Chronicle
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