Prowling for Essential Goods for Zimbabwe's Black Market

HARARE, Zimbabwe -- Karonga Chakanetsa moved through the trash-strewn streets of Zimbabwe's decaying capital with the swift, easy grace of a predator.

His prey? Soap. Cooking oil. Bread. Salt.

If Zimbabweans need it, Chakanetsa buys it and sells it. With inflation exceeding 100,000 percent, the almost daily price increases are too dizzying for most shoppers to track.

Dressed like a junior executive in an oxford shirt with an open collar, dark slacks and brown loafers, he searched block by block, shop by shop for essential goods still selling at the government's low official prices. A small nylon rucksack crumpled in a pants pocket waited for the right bargains.

They don't last long. Because once a bottle of cooking oil or a bar of soap hits the streets, black marketers can make nearly twice what they paid. Such tactics allow some Zimbabweans to survive -- or even thrive -- in a nation where 80 percent of the population has fallen below the official poverty line.

"People don't buy clothes these days," said Chakanetsa, 39, with the knowing tone of a businessman who understands his market.

After cruising through a warehouse-style shop with high ceilings and long shelves -- dominated by such superfluous goods as corn puffs, cream soda, green plastic cups and cotton balls -- he walked right out, his rucksack still tucked away.

"Big store," Chakanetsa said dismissively, "but there's no basic commodities."

President Robert Mugabe often blames illegal traders for Zimbabwe's troubles, saying their frantic buying and selling have pushed up prices. But since Mugabe imposed price controls in June, the black market has thrived and many traditional stores have gone out of business.

Customers such as Annamore Mukwena, 34, have suffered.

"There's no mealie meal in the stores," she said, referring to the finely ground cornmeal used to make sadza, the porridge that is Zimbabwe's staple food.

The smallest bag costs 12 million Zimbabwean dollars on the black market, more than her weekly earnings, said Mukwena, a widow who is raising her two children on her meager earnings selling snacks on a street corner. When the mealie meal runs low, she feeds her family nothing more than a thin gruel made with the leftovers.