Zimbabwean returnees face economic hardship as xenophobia forces exodus from South Africa

Samantha Chimbuya had spent seven years building something in South Africa. She had work. Her children attended school. She could buy food and access healthcare. Then, in the spring of 2026, that life became unsafe.

Anti-immigrant activists in South Africa, operating under the banner of groups like March and March, had set a deadline: June 30. By that date, they demanded, all undocumented migrants must leave. The activists blamed migrants for taking jobs and straining public services. The South African government rejected the ultimatum, calling June 30 an ordinary day and warning against violence and intimidation. But the threat was real enough. Chimbuya, then 30 years old and living in KwaZulu-Natal, watched as homes were raided, as warnings were issued. She packed her belongings and returned to Zimbabwe, to Hurungwe in the north, before the deadline arrived.

"It was not safe any more," she told Al Jazeera. "They were raiding our homes, warning us to leave. It was scary."

Chimbuya was one of thousands who made that choice. By late July, the Zimbabwean government had registered 116,670 returnees from South Africa. Of those, 36,940 had been assisted by the state; 79,730 had paid their own way home. Another 38,057 had already registered seeking employment. The numbers were staggering. What was less visible was what came next.

Back in Zimbabwe, Chimbuya confronted the very conditions that had driven her away seven years earlier. Work was scarce. She relied on family and friends for money. Her husband remained in South Africa, also struggling. She had applied for a government grant to start a small business. Nothing came through. Reverend Useni Sibanda, who leads the Zimbabwe Christian Alliance, described the bind clearly: returnees had spent years abroad, often without investing in homes or property at home, and they were arriving in a country with few jobs and fragile social safety nets. "They are coming back to a country where there are no jobs and where the social support systems may not be enough to accommodate them," he said.

Some returnees found a way forward by leveraging skills they had acquired abroad. Sidney Bunya had left Zimbabwe in March 2020, driven by economic desperation. He worked various jobs in Johannesburg before settling in Port Elizabeth, where a cousin introduced him to professional carpenters. Over time, he became skilled in roof trusses and secured substantial contracts. But in 2026, permit raids intensified at his workplace. Employers grew reluctant to hire him. He bought carpentry tools, shipped them home, and left before the June 30 deadline. Using his savings, he started a carpentry business in Zvimba, northeast of Harare. It now supports his family and employs five people. "It was difficult to set up the business," he said. "But I am getting more jobs now."

Bunya's path was not typical. The government announced it was screening returnees to identify their skills and needs, establishing reintegration centres, and considering recruiting qualified teachers among those who had returned. Companies were being encouraged to hire skilled workers. Vocational training and business support were under consideration. But these were plans, not yet reality.

Churches had stepped into the gap, providing shelter, food, and transport. Ray Motsi, president of the Theological College of Zimbabwe, said churches had partnered with local businesses to offer training in welding, carpentry, and computer science. But the need far exceeded what these institutions could provide. Motsi criticized the government for insufficient support, calling for "a deliberate programme to reintegrate these people." Rashweat Mukundu, a human rights activist in Harare, was more specific: returnees needed small grants, agricultural inputs, and machinery to establish livelihoods. The challenge, he said, was not simply getting Zimbabweans across the border but ensuring they could remain economically stable once they arrived. "I plan to open a grocery store," one returnee told him, "but funding is a challenge."

The exodus from South Africa had been swift and driven by fear. The reintegration into Zimbabwe was proving far slower, and the outcome remained uncertain.