I always try to keep my promises. I kept the one I made yesterday on the struggles I, like many other villagers, went through to get education/educated. @abishadamba @MaminiminiObert @mutswiril @pmunyede @DaddyK97725380 @CocoinZim @ndiyaye @batsim74 https://twitter.com/lmakombe/status/1311219901378551810

Formal education, for me, started in 1981. We were the pioneers when a creche was opened at #Zongoro. We were referred to as ma creche. The names have changed to kindergarten, pre-school and recently ECD
Primary school was generally cheap.

From Grade 1 to around Grade 5 we were paying Z$0.50 (yes 50 cents) per family as school fees. There was building fund (we called it find) and sports fee but they were manageable thanks to the post independence education policies Things changed in 1986/1984 when one polygamist,

with seven wives, resettled in our village, #Zongoro and had 32 children spread across all grades. It meant that they would also pay 50 cents like Edward Makombe's family with three boys A meeting hastley convened resolved that going forward,

it was now supposed to be per head not per head of the family. Village solution and conflict resolution mechanisms at work. (The conflict would emerge again when it was time to mould bricks for the secondary school #Zongoro High as it was 1 000 bricks per family)

Interestingly, we started moulding the bricks for #Zongoro Secondary even before building it started. It was only started in 1989, using the #Zongoro Primary School classrooms Generally, we were living in a classless society, in primary, we were almost all equals.

The majority would go to school without shoes and a few fortunate ones would get a pair during the conspiratorial Mutasa winter which would freeze our tiny hands and bare feet only to be saved by the sun if it decided to come out

Separation into classes would be seen here and there, from the apparell, though we were mostly in uniform, then the shoes but it became more pronounced at Grade 7. Those with means would go to boarding school leaving us to attend the recently opened #Zongoro school

Form 1 is when serious troubles began. On opening I realised that almost all classmates were in good uniform & had SHOES. My Uniform then was new but to save my parents had opted for the cheapest available & it also meant that shorts were bought in shop A shirt sourced in shop B

Additionally, most of them had satchels, we called them kits. I did the entire secondary school using plastic bags as my version of a satchel. Try it once and you will see the dog ears. Most of my teachers thought I was sturborn, would not want to cover my books.

They would write in red ink: COVER and at times, the books will be returned without being marked. In some cases, I would get punished for the offence. Trying to explain was never a success as they thought I was just troublesomeThey never tried to understand why it was so.

The secondary school fees, by our village standards, were very high and many failed to pay and dropped out. How i slugged through form 1 and 2 is nothing short of a miracle. I was always sent home to collect fees, which I knew would not be available

My father, a builder would always tell me that many people owed him and each time I was sent home, I would go and follow up on those payments and I always drew blanks. Surprisingly their children were never sent home.

(I then drew lessons, up to now, I do not follow up on money I am owed additionally, I always pay for any service rendered, I know it means a lot to the provider and his family)

By form 3, it was evident that completing form four was going to be a HUGE task. This was in 1991. I then struck mini gold. I got the address for Christian Care from the directory and I sent them, together with other organisations, a letter BEGGING for financial aid

Christian Care responded saying they did not assist with fees, but had forwarded my letter to the Zimbabwe Council of Churches who actioned it and by second term I was safe as they were supporting me financially

I had eased the pressure on my parents as there were four other sibblings who had started school. My father had always insisted that he will strive to see us through form four. My mother was aiming lower. She wanted us to go as far as grade 7

Come form 4 The examination fees was not covered by the Zimbabwe Council of Churches bursary as such the Z$64 for the 8 subjects i was doing had to be found in time for registration Days were going fast towards the deadline. The money that had been put aside was enough for 3 only

Then, a few days before the deadline, my mother accompanied by my young brother, made a 30km journey to sell a goat. The Z$30 for the goat plus the money that had been kept added up to 56 and I had to drop one subject. Geography fell victim (it was an easy pick)

1993, was a disaster for me. I did well in form 4. Received a letter confirming that I had been offered a place to do A level at Chikore Mission in Chipinge. (1day will do a thread on the first journey to Chikore) at Chikore, I realised that this was very different from #Zongoro.

At Chikore, I came out with my mind concussed. The deputy head, one Amanath was always looking for me as I had not paid the full fees. By the second term, I realised that I would not finish A levels. I still owed the school for the first term.

I had been promised assistance by the Department of Social Welfare but it seemed the money was not coming. It was a different setting. My classmates were mostly urbanites. They had been in boarding since form 1. Some spoke English like those pupils from the then group A schools.

I had no option but to drop out at lower sixth. It was painful. It was heart rending. It was frustrating but there was no option. @Pandi_Mhlanga

1994, by chance I became a temporary school teacher. I did 2 years and thank God, I managed to save &1996, I packed my things & left teaching & read A level The resources would not push thru2 years, thus I started with upper 6th and no school would accept me thus I went it alone

The struggle for education only reappeared in 2001 when I registered at the UZ and at the same time I was now a cub reporter at the Herald. I would always be the first to arrive, do my stories, by 10 disappear to UZ come back after lunch (a confession) I did this 2001 - 2005