Survivor’s guilt of a Zimbabwean in America
THE SUMMER has come to an end in Boston, Massachusetts.
The outbreak of Covid-19 has me holed up in the university’s accommodation, staring at my screen and thinking about home. These are not pleasant thoughts. Not much is left of my savings, but I don’t have expenses. Not until the start of the school year, that is. I have just enough to make it to the end of the summer, until school starts again and I begin my job working in the campus library.
I work there part-time, making about $200 (about R3 200) a week.
My friend from back home in Zimbabwe jokes over the phone that is more than his monthly
