Intra-Urban Mobilities and the Depiction of the City in Zimbabwean Fiction as Reflected in Valerie Tagwira’s Uncertainty of Hope (2006)

Introduction

Zimbabwean migration is mainly projected as constituting either of the following paradigms: rural-urban, urban-urban, urban-rural, and internal-regional/transnational migration (Crush & Tevera, 2010; Derman & Kaarhus, 2013; Gaidzanwa, 1985; McGregor & Primorac, 2010; Palmberg & Primorac, 2005; Schmidt, 1996). However, this reading of migration occludes other nuanced forms of migration such as intra-urban mobility as depicted in Valerie Tagwira’s (2006) Uncertainty of Hope. Intra-urban mobility, as will be discussed in this article, is closely related to the creation of unstable identities and depiction of the city as a heterogeneous space that is unevenly constituted. In addition, intra-urban mobility is testimony of the transgression of spatial boundaries and is reflective of either upward or downward economic and social mobility. It is also imperative to note that this transgression is not just physical but metaphorically represents ideological and discursive migrations. Consequently, critical to our understanding of intra-urban mobility is the way one imagines and conceptualizes space. This is essential to my reading of the following: Onai Moyo’s experiences in Mbare, Onai’s upward social mobility to Borrowdale, Operation Murambatsvina (Operation Restore Order), and the heightened intra-urban mobilities that were provoked and Tapiwa Jongwe’s temporary madness. I therefore contend that space is central in influencing and defining one’s aspirations, dreams, ambitions and hopes as depicted in Uncertainty of Hope.

Intra-Urban Mobilities in Valerie Tagwira’s Uncertainty of Hope

Intra-urban mobilities in Tagwira’s Uncertainty of Hope are based on the co-existence of “ghettopolis” and “dalepolis” in one urban formation. Ndjio (2006) observes that the term “ghettopolis” refers not only to the city of destitution and misery, or to the spatial concentration of millions of destitute urban dwellers in squatters and fringe settlements, and other disenfranchised areas but also accounts for the “disabling city” whose physical infrastructure is falling or has crumbled (p. 104). I am equally interested in viewing some spaces in Uncertainty of Hope as ghettopolis for the confinement and imprisonment implied by the term. In Zimbabwe, common parlance has it that anyone who hails from a privileged urban background is said to stay “kuma dale dale” (from dale dale) after the most coveted urban residential suburb known as Borrowdale in Harare. Therefore, the concept “dalepolis” refers to city spaces of privilege, luxury, and comfort that are the preserve of the elite of Zimbabwean society.

Having a “ghettopolis” and a “dalepolis” within the same city space is illustrative of the socio-economic division of the urban space into what Westwood and Williams (as cited in Manase, 2005) define as “two cities in one” (p. 89). Westwood and Williams argue that this is an urban spatial paradigm characterized by the symbolic existence of two worlds in one city. Furthermore, Manase (2005) asserts that on the one hand, there “exist affluent and glamorous low-density and up-market suburbs, while on the other, there are an impoverished, neglected and often over crowded high density suburbs and slums” (p. 90). This, as Manase (2005) observes, constitutes the fragmented nature of the city. However, the blueprint or origin of this particular urban form in Zimbabwe is, of course, the segregated colonial city. Fanon (1961) observes that the colonial world is a Manichean bifurcated world and this Manichaeism is also manifest in the colonial spatial configurations. Fanon (1961) observes thus,

The “native” sector is not complementary to the European sector . . . The colonist’s sector is a sector built to last, all stone and steel. It’s a sector of lights and paved roads, where the trash cans constantly overflow with strange and wonderful garbage, undreamed-of leftovers . . . The colonised sector, or at least the “native” quarters, the shanty town, the Medina, the reservation, is a disreputable place inhabited by disreputable people. (p. 4)

This Manichaeism manifests itself in the mapping out of territories into settler and native lands.

Uncertainty of Hope explores with poignant clarity the challenges Zimbabwean urban dwellers encounter in their day to day struggles for survival in a harsh and unrelenting economic and political crisis, which imploded in post-2000 Zimbabwe. This political and economic environment has resulted in most Zimbabweans being insecure. The insecurity is exemplified by the fear, anxiety, and restlessness that characterize their lives. The political and economic crisis has also resulted in transnational migration but little has been said about the intra-urban mobilities generated by the crisis. These mobilities are reflective of the unstable political and economic climate and consequently of the identities generated. The novel is based on the experiences of Onai Moyo, Garikai’s wife. Garikai is depicted as an irresponsible and physically abusive husband:

Gari was not an easy man to leave with. Over the years, she had worn herself out trying to conceal proof of his violence . . . her episodic facial bruising and blackened eyes had ceased to be material for speculation because they all knew precisely what was happening. However, the cocoon of pretence that she had woven around herself had become her armour. It was the only thing which held the frail vestiges of her dignity securely in place. There was nothing else she thought she could do. She was, after all, only a woman. How could she fight against fate? (p. 5)

Furthermore, his irresponsibility is illustrated by his engagement in extra-marital affairs in an environment dominated by HIV and AIDS. His negligent behavior is also epitomized by the fact that he and his family still live in a house in Mbare, the oldest lower working class township in Harare and a ghettopolis. Ironically, the house “had belonged to his parents” (p. 33). Garikai, who spends most of his earnings on beer bingeing and extra-marital affairs, is employed by Coca Cola Company as a section manager and the author seems to insinuate that his stay in Mbare is not in sync with his job. This is exemplified by the fact that his colleague in a similar position owns a house in Belvedere, an upper middle-class suburb in Harare.

Garikai’s carelessness, however, renders him economically and socially static. This stasis is paralleled and contrasted with his colleague who lives in Belvedere. The colleague, having managed to be economically and socially mobile, stays in Belvedere, a coveted and “respectable” low-density suburb, which is a sharp contrast of Mbare. Onai demonstrates this as she wishes to reside in a place like Belvedere:

How she wanted to live in a place like that . . . what she would give to have a spacious home with a garden of flowers. But, of course, it would never be. Belvedere was way out of her reach. It was a suburb where luckier people lived. She was destined to live in Mbare, and it could not be more different. (p. 33-34)

Onai and Garikai’s stay in Mbare is testimony of their class position in society as they constitute the urban poor of Harare. Mbare is actually described as a location where the poor stay and die:

Mbare was a high density township that had absolutely no redeeming features to speak of. The degree of overcrowding was spectacular. As the tasteless joke went, one could not reach out an arm without touching one’s next-door neighbours—and in their beds, too. A multitude of tiny houses were stacked against one another making an intricate maze of carelessly planned streets. This housing itself was a colonial inheritance; then it had been considered suitable accommodation for the township dwellers. Overcrowding during the war and since independence had only made matters worse. Contrary to people’s expectations the services had deteriorated. Matapi flats were a perfect example. The dilapidated tower-blocks dominated the flawed Mbare skyline. They stood defiantly, almost regally, overlooking the squalor of the surrounding shanty town. (p. 52)

The above description of Mbare is representative of both a ghettopolis and Ndjio’s (2006) definition of a necropolis with its “spectacular infrastructure of lack and incompleteness” (p. 104) and a peculiar revolting aesthetics of ugliness. However, one’s stay in Mbare as attested by characters such as Onai is not permanent as the transgressions of borders into territories deemed safer are possible.

Mbare, as a necropolis, is depicted as unsafe as testified by the crime and prostitution rampant in the area as well as the existence of the dying and dead because of HIV and AIDS. Being in Mbare is, thus, a statement about one’s economic and social status. However, this status is not permanent as it changes, provided one is prepared to work hard to improve her or his economic and social situation. People therefore might inhabit the same urban space but would be differently located within that space. Nonetheless, the boundaries between Mbare and Belvedere are not static as upward or downward economic and social mobilities occur. Consequently, one way of leaving Mbare is to engage in upward economic and social mobility.

Tagwira, however, depicts education as one way of escaping the confinement implied in ghettoised areas like Mbare. Faith, the only daughter of Katy and John, family friends to Onai, is a law student at the University of Zimbabwe. Her status is emblematic of the importance of education as an effective strategy to leave Mbare. The name Faith is suggestive of the courage, commitment, and tenacity that one needs to leave Mbare. Her courage and tenacity are envied by Onai:

She thought with envy of Katy’s only child who had managed to leave Mbare and was now at university. Indeed, the future looked bright for Katy. But it seemed that for Onai and her children, there would be nothing beyond a life in the slums. The idea of leaving Mbare was the substance of impossible dreams. (p. 52)

Thus, education is depicted as a powerful weapon that can be used to move out of Mbare. It is equally important to note that Katy and John have bought a stand in Marlbereign, one of Harare’s upper-middle class suburbs:

“Correct. Let’s be careful with the money because it has taken me two whole years to save it up. We must pay the balance on Faith’s fees and the reminder should go down as further payment for the Mabelreign stand. Hopefully, that will leave us with a modest balance. Once the stand is paid up, we should start building. You and I will Mbare yet,” he declared with firm resolve. (p. 30)

The tone of the language used by Katy’s husband is reflective both of the despairing nature of life in Mbare and the determination to leave Mbare.

Harare as a city is depicted as an unevenly constituted space. However, spatial transgressions and reconfiguration are possible as characters such as Onai overlap borders. The idea of spatial transgression, reconfiguration, and overlapping of borders is only possible as space is, as Lefebvre (1991) and Harvey (1996) argue, a social construct and therefore, malleable. Onai’s economic and social mobility exemplifies this. Initially, Onai is depicted as a victim of Garikai’s abuse and irresponsible behavior. Her situation is largely pessimistic and is given a spatial dimension as she is apparently condemned to live and die in Mbare. This feeling of pessimism is eloquently summarized by John in his conversation with Katy:

“Be serious, Katy. This is Zimbabwe. A poor woman will always be a poor woman. Hazvichinje!” After a moment of contemplative silence he continued, “Onai will never own a house. She is an unemployed dressmaker who works as a vegetable vendor. How can you imagine that she could buy a house? Where would she get the money from?” (pp. 17-18)

However, Onai’s progression from being a victim to an independent woman who escapes the drudgery and misery of life in Mbare is significant. Her escape can also be conceptualized in relation to space. Space is conceptualized in a three-dimensional way as the enlargement of individual space, the widening of familial space, and lastly the physical mobility from one space to another. Onai, an unemployed dressmaker, has her upward economic and social mobility heavily curtailed by the crisis gripping the depicted Zimbabwe that was characterized by unemployment, inflation, and HIV and AIDS. The death of her husband further complicates matters as Garikai’s younger brother evicts Onai and her children from their house in Mbare. Her attempts to register for a house in the state-sponsored Operation Garikai (Operation Restore Order) for the victims of Operation Murambatsvina, whose nature and impact on intra-urban mobility are discussed below, are foiled mainly because of the corruption, nepotism, and patronage that characterized the operation. Finally, she is employed and offered accommodation in Borrowdale by Tapiwa Jongwe and thus engages in intra-urban mobility as she moves from Mbare to Borrowdale. This mobility facilitates her reunion with her children as she had temporarily left them in the rural areas with her mother. The job and accommodation therefore assure her of upward economic and social mobility:

Going back to the job . . . the starting salary would be fifteen million dollars a month plus accommodation. Of course your pay will be adjusted depending on how everything goes. There is a two bedroomed house on my premises in Borrowdale. The workshop is right next to the house. You will, of course, have two assistants working with you but they won’t live on site. (p. 356)

Onai’s mobility at a metaphoric level is suggestive of physical, psychological, emotional, and spiritual freedom as she is no longer encumbered by the drudgery of life in Mbare. Onai is now secure as her new situation in Borrowdale marks the “dawn of her new existence” (p. 360) and this new existence is “beautiful” (p. 360). Onai’s “new existence” (p. 360) premised on upward economic and social mobility is predicated on her being independent and free from all the constraints that had been haunting her life as characterized by her stay in Mbare. Consequently, her intra-urban mobility ensures her of economic and social stability:

Onai felt more keenly than ever before that her destiny was now in her own hands and that at last her children stood a chance of being able to fulfil themselves. She would do her best for them. They would not be oppressed by a system beyond their control. She looked out of the window and smiled to herself. (p. 363)

Thus, the enlargement of her professional, personal, and social space, facilitated by this crossing over from the overcrowded and miserable spaces of Mbare to that of “beautiful” Borrowdale allows her to reunite with her children.

Operation Murambatsvina and Heightened Intra-Urban Mobilities

Uncertainty of Hope also explores the consequences of Operation Murambatsvina (Operation Restore Order), which was executed by the government of Zimbabwe in 2005 purportedly to arrest the proliferation of urban housing that were not officially planned. The operation can be interpreted as the actions of a post-colonial government characterized by “loss of limits or sense of proportion” (Mbembe, 2001, p. 119), on the urban poor, its main victims. The operation has been considered largely from a sociological, historical, and political science perspective (Mlambo, 2008; Moore, 2008; Potts, 2008; Tibaijuka, 2005; Vambe, 2008). However, none of this literature considers the intra-urban mobilities that were generated and their impact on identities of the urban dwellers. As depicted in Uncertainty of Hope, the operation caused untold suffering on the urban poor already struggling to survive the harsh economic and political situation prevailing in the country as exemplified by the long queues for basic foodstuffs suffered by the Onais of this novel. The operation thus is symptomatic of the pessimistic nature of life in Harare, especially in poor neighborhoods like Mbare as it heightens the insecurity of the represented urban poor. The constituted insecurity further generated restless, dislocated, and unstable identities. The resulting mobilities are portrayed as movements toward displacement and death. This is indicated in the way the operation worsened the condition of vulnerable people such as the HIV positive in society. Sheila is a young HIV positive single mother whose condition is worsened by the operation and ultimately succumbs to death:

Just a week of sleeping out in the open had already ravaged Sheila’s health; her cough was worse, her eyes lifeless pools in a face worn with fatigue. She now had the familiar, skeletal appearance of a victim of full-blown AIDS. (p. 156)

Some individuals such as Hondo, who is depicted as a veteran of Zimbabwe’s liberation struggle, committed suicide as a consequence of the operation. The deaths further heighten the necropolistic nature of life in Mbare. Ndjio (2006) observes that the necropolis is the city space of “crime and death . . . In this city, routinised violence and terror have created an intimacy between life and death, the living and the dead” (p. 104). The necropolis thus fits well the description of the post colony offered by Mbembe (2001) as characterized by a “distinctive style of political improvisation, by a tendency to excess and lack of proportion, as well as by distinctive ways identities are multiplied, transformed, and put into circulation” (p. 102).

Additionally, the operation worsened the condition of the urban poor who are mainly lodgers. To survive in this fictional Harare, especially in poor locations such as Mbare, landlords had resorted to renting out their houses:

Innovative homeowners had haphazardly added extra rooms to the “main house”: a variety of shacks, resourcefully constructed from wood, asbestos, metal sheets, and in a few cases, colourful plastic sheeting. These were rented out to families of desperate job seekers who’d drifted to the irresistible lure of the big city’s lights, or the elusive promise of work. Both Katy and Onai were proud owners of such shacks. (pp. 52-53)

Thus, residential spaces in Mbare become partly commercial service spaces when families start offering rooms to lodgers to augment family income. While colonial administrations tried to separate commercial from residential spaces, the reality is that, even under colonialism, these boundaries were transgressed through underground (informal) economy. Thus, the use of residential premises for commercial purposes was not something new. Nevertheless, these homeowners lost a very important source of income as their lodgers were forcibly evicted through the demolitions. This worsened the economic situation of Tagwira’s Onai and furthered the production of restless and unstable identities. Furthermore, the operation impacted negatively on lodgers who were reduced to peripatetic citizens as they had to move from one township to another in search of accommodation and some, such as Onai and her children, moved back to the rural areas.

However, the operation not only resulted in urban-rural migration as Potts (2008) observes but also heightened forced intra-urban mobilities. The urban poor who had been dispersed by the operation regrouped in open spaces such as Tsiga grounds. This regrouping, a metaphoric gesture of the urban poor’s attempts at recreating and finding space within the city landscape, is depicted here:

Families continue to map out new territory in open spaces as more and more people had their homes destroyed. There were occasional aggressive incidents about encroachments over vague boundaries. Theft was rampant and the loss of property continued. (p. 155)

The urban poor of this Harare, as depicted by Tagwira, continued to try and recreate the city in their own way, thus reflecting their resilience and tenacity in the face of operation Murambatsvina. This recreation of the city is analogous to Raban’s (1974) concept of the soft city, which is plastic in nature and therefore can be molded in our image to reflect our desires, aspirations, and dreams. De Certeau’s (1984) concept of tactics is also invoked where an individual reconfigures space to reflect his or her desires and goals. However, the operation led to further forced intra-urban migration, for the dislocated dwellers’ stay at Tsiga grounds is ended when the state Riot Police Unit descends on the grounds and rounds up all the occupiers of the grounds and bundles them into army trucks for a “holding camp on a farm just outside Harare” (p. 156). Interestingly, the forced removal from Tsiga grounds only intensified the intra-urban mobilities as after a few days, “more families had started to re-group at Tsiga grounds” (p. 156). These forced intra-urban mobilities, a concept that complicates the way migration manifests in Zimbabwean fiction, reinforced the restless and dislocated identities of the urban poor. The next section considers how Tapiwa Jongwe’s temporary “madness” can be read as a form of psycho-spatial mobility that further complicates our understanding of Zimbabwean migration

Narrating “Madness” as Mobility

The text also describes the experiences of Tapiwa Jongwe (Mawaya), whose mobility, I contend, offers a more nuanced reading of intra-urban mobility. This nuanced reading is based on the Zimbabwean Shona concept of “Kutanda Botso” (penance). “Kutanda Botso” is a concept in Shona cosmology for a cleansing ceremony conducted by an individual who would has committed an offence against his mother during her lifetime. The concept is premised on mobility as the individual moves from place to place wearing sacks. This mobility is not just physical but also entails migrations of a psychological nature. In “Kutanda Botso,” one can temporarily loose his or her sanity and engage in mobilities as a therapeutic measure and depend for food and survival on the charity of the community. In addition, a ritual of appeasement to the dead mother’s spirit is conducted for one to regain his or her sanity. The concept of “Kutanda Botso” is akin to “Ngozi” (Avenging spirit), which also involves the need to appease the angry spirit of a dead person. However, the concept of “kutanda botso” in the text is modified as Tapiwa Jongwe did not wrong his mother but blames himself for the death of his pregnant wife Edith, who perished in a car accident. Thus, Tapiwa Jongwe temporarily migrates from the affluent Borrowdale suburb to the impoverished and bleak Mbare to appease himself of the guilt he shoulders.

Mobilities have been largely read as physical movement from one place to another and “madness” in the form of “kutanda botso” has not been considered as part of this mobility. I therefore argue that Tapiwa Jongwe’s “madness” is a mode of psycho-spatial mobility that constitutes some form of migration. Consequently, his temporary regression is not just physical, as in the physical movement from Borrowdale to Mbare, but entails temporary psychological mobility from “sanity” to “insanity.” Also, Tapiwa Jongwe’s temporary regression can be read as a transient downward economic and social mobility as he moves from the “respectable” and “privileged” comfort zone of Borrowdale to “despicable” Mbare. Tapiwa Jongwe, after the death of his wife, chooses for self-therapeutic reasons, to temporarily become a vagrant in Mbare:

None of his family or friends knew where he was, and he liked it that way. He had walked away from home with nothing but a few million dollars in his pocket, which even now were strapped to his waist in a small money-bag. He had managed to hold on to it because all he’d needed were old newspapers and scraps of food, and he could get both from bins or from Mai Ruva. In any case, using the money would have amounted to cheating. It would have defeated the whole purpose of his mission. (p. 43)

Finally, after his regressive move, he regains his “sanity” and returns to Borrowdale. His return can be interpreted as the regaining of his earlier economic and social status that had been provisionally lost through his “kutanda botso.” In addition, Tapiwa Jongwe’s return can be considered as evidence of the multidirectional nature of intra-urban mobilities in the text. It is also important to note that he lives a privileged life as he owns a car import company. Borrowdale is considered by many in Zimbabwe as the most coveted place to be in Harare as it is the residential place of the elite. His transition from Mawaya as he was called in Mbare into Tapiwa Jongwe is reflective of how identities change and are associated with place. In Mbare, because of his “madness,” he is called Mawaya and it becomes an identity position associated with his “madness” and the depravity that constitutes his life in the streets of Mbare.

Tapiwa Jongwe’s identity draws our attention to the performative nature of identity and involves elements of deception as well as self-deception. Tapiwa Jongwe’s social bifurcated identity can be read using Goffman’s (1959) popular idea of the “presentation of self in everyday life.” Goffman (1959) considers the social world as constructed by social actors who convey certain impressions of themselves to others. Furthermore, Goffman (1959) argues that everyday interaction, especially face to face interaction, is analogous to a theatrical performance, which has front and back stages. Goffman’s (1959) concept has been appropriated by Adeyanju and Oriola (2011) in their analysis of how West African migrants in the West present themselves to their peers in their home societies and argue that front stage is “that part of the individuals’ performance, which regularly functions in a general and fixed fashion to define the situation for those who observe the performance” (p. 954) and is performed to manage and manipulate the impressions of people. Therefore, in a Goffmanian sense, Tapiwa Jongwe acts out his “madness” to the people of Mbare. To the unsuspecting people of Mbare, Tapiwa Jongwe is “mad”; hence, he is given the name “Mawaya” (loose wires—implying that someone is mad) but his performance is done so as to expunge his feelings of guilt and self-blame as a consequence of the death of his wife. He therefore engages in “Kutanda Botso” as a way of appeasing the spirit of his dead wife.

Furthermore, the front stage Tapiwa Jongwe erects for the consumption of the people of Mbare has a back stage. Adeyanju and Oriola (2011) note that it is in the back stage where rehearsals are conducted far away from the scrutinizing gaze of the audience and unlike the front stage, the back stage is hidden and actors can relax. Thus, the back stage of Tapiwa Jongwe’s identity as a “mad” person is two dimensional. Firstly, the back stage of his performative identity is physical and refers to a secretive concrete place he becomes his “other self” (p. 194) far removed from the meddling Mbare public. In this back stage, Tapiwa Jongwe buys toothpaste and soap:

It seemed a reassuring symbol of his other self. He had only used small amounts to buy toothpaste and soap, after discovering that it was easy to get a quick wash-down at the communal terminus toilets, and had become addicted to this early morning routine. (p. 194)

The “toothpaste and soap” are symbols of cleanliness and hygiene in an environment filled with dirt and ugliness. I contend that the discourse of cleanliness and hygiene symbolizes “purity” and thus serves to continuously remind Tapiwa Jongwe of his earlier life. This discourse of “purity” diligently executed by Tapiwa Jongwe is juxtaposed to another discourse predicated on “impurity” as exemplified by operation Murambatsvina. It is also important to observe that the “toothpaste and soap” serve to reinforce the spatial division of city space, reflected through the author’s use of the trope of intra-urban mobility in her discussion of Tapiwa Jongwe’s experiences in Mbare. Hence, Borrowdale is implicative of cleanliness in contradistinction to Mbare, which is the location of dirtiness and ugliness. Secondly, the back stage is psychological as Tapiwa Jongwe retreats for refuge and fortitude into the castle of his mind. It is in this domain where he is tormented by self-doubts about the relevance and purpose of his mission and even questions his own “madness”:

He wondered if the time had come for him to return home. Doubts about the purpose and logic of his stay on the streets of Mbare surfaced. Nothing could ever bring his wife back. Nothing. What was he doing amongst this madness, when he could be in the safety of his home, or his office? For the first time, he questioned his own sanity. Were they not right in calling him Mawaya? (p. 134)

I therefore propose that in order to maintain this bifurcated identity, Tapiwa Jongwe must convince the people of Mbare of his “madness.” However, there are incidents when the back and front stages of his performative identity seem to collapse and become one. This is testified when Onai notices something amiss with Tapiwa Jongwe’s “madness” when he approaches her for food:

Onai looked at him. He pulled at her heartstrings. No human being deserved to live a life begging or food on the streets, competing with stray dogs. It was such acute debasement of a man’s dignity, of anyone’s dignity . . . His were no the teeth of a homeless beggar. I must be going mad, she thought at once, wondering to what levels of indecency she was sinking. (p. 88)

It is moments such as the above incident when the front and back stages of Tapiwa Jongwe’s performed identity seem to collapse and reveal his “real” identity. “Madness” is usually associated with dirtiness and the fact that Tapiwa Jongwe possessed “white teeth” challenges conventional wisdom on madness. Thus, the boundary between the front and back stages of one’s identity is not fixed and permanent as movements to and fro are manifest.

The text focuses on intra-urban mobilities in relation to gender. Tapiwa Jongwe is a male benefactor who comes to the aid of Onai. It is always men who inhabit sites of privilege and are in positions of power and influence that assist women portrayed largely as dependent on men. In this respect, the intra-urban mobility of most women is facilitated by men. The intervention and presence of Tapiwa Jongwe in Mbare cannot halt Operation Murambatsvina but something positive and good, as exemplified by Onai and her family’s migration out of Mbare to Borrowdale. However, Onai moves to Borrowdale as a worker and not as the proud owner of a house. This is illustrative of the way she is incorporated into Borrowdale. She is not part of the elite but provides services that the elite need to maintain and consolidate their status. Her marginality is thus reinforced through her incorporation. Her marginality is manifest also in the location of the accommodation she is given. She stays in the servants’ quarter that is detached from the main house:

When she’d moved in the previous evening, she hadn’t been aware of being surrounded by such loveliness. This was the dawn of her new existence; and it seemed beautiful. Across the garden stood Tapiwa Jongwe’s house. Never had Onai been anywhere near such an impressive home. (p. 360)

Thus, the spatial configuration of Borrowdale is not homogeneous as divisions within this “dalepolis” are manifest. Onai’s house is separated from the main house by a “garden” (p. 360) and this creates the illusion that the spatial configuration of Borrowdale is the same and even. Consequently, Onai deludes herself in believing that her stay in Borrowdale is a result of Tapiwa Jongwe’s humbleness.

Moreover, the difference between Borrowdale and Mbare is attributed to ethical and not economic considerations:

It still surprised her that her employer was so humble. What had her grandmother said? Something about real manners being those where no one felt any discomfort. But it was more than manners that she was thinking about, it was a question of equality . . . we’re all born equal until someone gives us a dirty look . . . that was true. Many people did try to raise themselves on the backs of others. But it didn’t have to happen that way. (p. 360)

The “garden” symbolizes the chasm that blurs the differences between Onai and Tapiwa Jongwe and creates the illusion that we are all “born equal” (p. 360). It is also important to note that Tapiwa Jongwe employs Onai primarily to safeguard the memory of his dead wife. Thus, Onai’s intra-urban mobility largely depends on Tapiwa Jongwe’s goodwill and is therefore transient.

Conclusion

I have argued that intra-urban mobilities and “madness” as forms of migration as depicted in Uncertainty of Hope are largely occluded in discussions of Zimbabwean migration, which focus on either of the following paradigms: rural-urban, urban-urban, urban-rural, and internal-regional/transnational migration. I also advanced the view that the concept of intra-urban mobility is closely related to the depiction of the city as a heterogeneous space that is unevenly constituted. This unevenness is testimony of the fact that space is a social construct and therefore the borders created to demarcate it are porous as transgressions and overlappings are witnessed as people become economically and socially mobile. The economic and social mobility of people results in the subsequent (re)formation of identities as people assume new identities.