I remember that on my way back home I would then start to think about all those problems that I had temporarily forgotten and my tummy would start rumbling because of the hunger that I had also virtually forgotten about whilst on my date with the Monopoly Man. Now let us not get carried away, in as much as the monopoly man gave us children of post-independence Zimbabwe so much joy and fulfilment there was one major flaw in the game….nothing was real, it was all a dream!!! In those few hours you were rich, but as soon as you folded the cardboard and packed away the dices and fake money you were back to reality. Thank you Rich Uncle Pennybags, the Monopoly Man. The feeling of having some money in my pocket and the feeling of having financial independence and making investment decisions was priceless, and it is a feeling that many Zimbabweans only ever experience/experienced whilst playing Monopoly. I would throw the dice and buy properties, oh Lord it felt great! I would make people pay me to pass through my properties and I would pay them for using their properties. A few days ago I eventually figured it out, the reason why I loved the monopoly man was because he made me forget about my poverty! In those 3 or 4 hours that I indulged in the game every weekend I would feel rich and I would not worry about whether or not I was going to carry a lunchbox to school the following week (my parents could not afford to buy bread everyday so carrying a lunchbox to school was a luxury). In fact it took me years to figure out why the memory is stuck so vividly in my mind and for so long. Every weekend spent with the Monopoly Man was a weekend well spent, I will never forget the bald-headed man in his top hat with his charming smile and smooth moustache. Our parents probably never understood why we loved the game so much, even I did not understand why we enjoyed spending hours on end huddled around a square cardboard and throwing dices like we had no worries in the world. You see the card game did not belong to me, it belonged to a friend but every other weekend my younger brother and I would go over to my friend’s place to play Monopoly. Of all my impoverished childhood experiences there is one memory that I hold fondly, the memory of playing the card game famously known as Monopoly. As a child I engaged in several pass time activities such as sport and games. Bottomline of the issue is that I was raised in a poor family much like many of you. Enough about my personal history and the history of post-independence Zimbabwe, I am sure by now you can feel a tinge of déjà vu creeping in. I use the word “average” because mind you not everyone was exposed to the scourge of poverty that was taking over the country, a “special” minority of the population was living pretty and amassing unimaginable amounts of wealth for themselves at the detriment of the rest of us. As the years went by and the new millennium approached our financial situation deteriorated rapidly, much like that of many other average citizens of Zimbabwe.
My early childhood was “fine”, we lived an average life and we had all the basics and for us that was all we needed.
I was born in the post-independence Zimbabwe to a civil servant (teacher), and a car mechanic. Nonetheless, let us talk about this game and how it relates to the current situation in Zimbabwe.Īllow me to give a short history of myself so as to provide insight on my motivation. Do you remember back in the day when we used to huddle under a tree or shed and excitedly play the most famous card game in history? No I am not talking about Blackjack or Crazy Eight, I am talking about Monopoly! If you are of my generation you will probably understand what I am talking about but unfortunately some may not be able to relate too well.
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