Slider
Zimbabwean women breaking barriers as they take up construction jobs
BY FORTUNE MOYO
Last year, Charity Nyoni walked by a group of men who were painting a house and asked if she could help.
They laughed.
When she insisted, the team’s leader agreed to let her join them the next time.
“When I arrived at the said place, the men were shocked,” Nyoni says.
“I held a paintbrush for the first time in my life, I enjoyed it, and I have never looked back.”
In Victoria Falls, a global tourism destination and one of Zimbabwe’s fastest-growing cities, more women are seeking jobs in the construction industry than ever before.
This generational shift has accelerated due to the pandemic, which led to half a million Zimbabweans having at least one family member losing a job, especially in the travel and hospitality sectors, according to a World Bank analysis.
Women like Nyoni, a single mother who used to work as a waitress in a hotel, began to take a closer look at construction work to support their families.
It had previously seemed off-limits due to gender-based cultural expectations. But necessity and determination prevailed.
By the end of this year, Nyoni will have completed two journeyman courses, 12-month construction training programmes offered by vocational centers, and hopes to have her own painting company up and running.
“Not having professional qualifications in the construction field has affected me because I have lost opportunities to work with big companies as I do not yet have the qualification certificates to show I have trained for the job,” she says.
In 2019, the percentage of women working in construction was 2.7 percent in Ghana, four percent in Tanzania and 4.5 percent in Uganda, according to the International Labour Organisation.
Meanwhile, Zimbabwe’s number had reached nine percent, according to the Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency.
Yet as the pandemic and generational shifts have inspired even more women to break down gender barriers and find work as painters, bricklayers and mechanics, Nyoni says most men still tell them they should be focusing on more traditional household duties.
Taruvinga Dzokamushure, general secretary for the National Employment Council for the Construction Industry, a trade union, says there are “no women joining the industry” and that employment numbers across the country are trending downward.
But local construction officials in Harare, the capital, and Victoria Falls say they see growth, which they predict will be reflected in the next round of census data, based on information collected in May and scheduled for release later this year.
Crispen Tsavarai, chief executive officer for the Harare-based Zimbabwe Building Contractors Association, says the group has observed a significant increase in women joining the industry.
Out of 500 active members, 38 are women — all except one added just in the past year.
During that same period, only 30 new men joined the association, he adds.
“In May last year, we set up a women’s desk within our organization as a way of mainstreaming gender in the male-dominated construction industry,” he says. “From having one woman on that desk when it was set, we currently have 38 women.”
Membership in the association is voluntary but comes with access to networking and training benefits, Tsavarai says.
Beyond encouraging women to join, the women’s desk lobbies for government funding for their training and equipment needs and offers programmes to educate teenage girls and college students about construction-related career paths.
Kuda Hove, a single mother, first entered the field when she decided to build her own home.
Hove works for her family’s medical supply company, which requires traveling outside Zimbabwe to meet with customers.
When the coronavirus hit, she got stuck in Australia for six months.
Realising she could not cross international borders easily anymore, and with her finances dwindling, she decided to focus on building a home for herself and her two daughters, now aged 12 and 14.
“I was renting a house, but I had already bought a piece of land to build my house,” she says.
“I realised to save rental money I had to start building my house, and that is how I got into the construction industry.”
Like Nyoni, Hove began learning the trade through hands-on experience: managing workers, identifying and buying building materials, and figuring out the needs of different parts of her house.
“I have to learn fast,” Hove says. “I was cheated several times before finding trustworthy workers and suppliers.”
She began taking online construction courses and pursuing a diploma in construction management.
While working on her third project in January 2021, she set up her own construction business, Lewa and Company, that employs 17 men and three women.
“Covid-19 made people think of creating ways of survival and unexpectedly created opportunities for women in the construction field,” Hove says.
“However, because of job losses, men are also after the same opportunities, and in most cases construction companies prefer to hire men.”
Women can also be their own worst enemies, she says. “As women we are perfectionists, and at times that can work against you in such environments as you are likely to be isolated when you raise concerns such as issues of health and safety at the workplace.”
Laura Tofts, who specialises in coating and has a warehouse in Harare, says she has also observed more young women, fresh out of school, seeking employment as electricians, plumbers, painters and bricklayers.
“The facts and stigma about women being less strong are dying, and this power shift will naturally play out with time,” she says.
Men in the industry have various opinions about more women joining their trades. Reginald Mutsvakiwa, a builder for the last 15 years in the Victoria Falls region, says although more women have joined the construction industry, it remains men’s work.
“Construction in itself needs lots of manpower,” says Mutsvakiwa. “Physically and biologically, it is difficult for women.”
But Blessing Sunday, who has worked in construction since December 2020, says it is admirable that women like Hove, a family friend, are applying their skills.
“The construction industry is very broad, so I do not see why women cannot join the industry,” he says.
Hove says she is increasing her collaborations with women and expanding her business to include a showroom to display and sell materials.
It’s important for women to help each other grow professionally, she says, whether through taking courses or by learning on the job.
“There are a lot of women out there who have no skills,” she says, “but have strength and can have a profession in this industry.” – Global Press Journal
BY NOKUTHABA DLAMINI
In the small town of Bela-Bela, a quietly flourishing business is unfolding — one that turns wildlife into livelihood, education, and economic opportunity. On a humid afternoon, we walked into the operations of Estelle Nel Taxidermy (and its parent networks), where rows of beautiful animal mounts — from antelope horns to zebra skins, skulls to full-body trophies — line the walls.
But beyond the busts and custom mounts lies a deeper purpose: this is not simply a display of hunting trophies. It is a system of sustainable use — where animals that die naturally or are hunted legally are completely utilised: meat, skin, horns, bones — nothing goes to waste, and everything acquires value.
As we discovered from our conversations, this network extends beyond taxidermy. Adjacent to the showrooms are processing facilities, butcheries, and game-meat wholesalers — all integral to transforming South Africa’s wild fauna into a formal, regulated, and sustainable economy.
“This is home” — an artisan’s vocation
I sat down with Melanie Viljoen, who serves as Export Secretary at Estelle Nel Taxidermy. Her voice was calm, resolute.
“For me, it’s like this is home and it’s something that I love to do. I love art. I studied art at school. I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.”
She told us she’s been with the business for thirteen to fourteen years. Over that time she’s mastered a unique craft. “I’ve found my niche,” she said, “and I’m not going anywhere.”
Melanie explained how the business flows: outfitters bring in international clients to hunt on private farms, then process the animals: trophy mounts for some, meat for others. Locals also bring animals — sometimes for trophies, sometimes just for meat. There is even “school-mount” work: smaller species, sometimes a mother and its young, carefully preserved — not just for hunters, but for children to touch and learn about wildlife up close.
“We mount animals that have died naturally or were hunted… we use everything, from the meat to the skins and curls. It’s a sustainable way of doing business, and everything has a monetary value.”
This, she says, is both business and passion — blending artistry, conservation, and commerce.
From workshops to global markets — taxidermy meets commerce
According to membership details o South African Taxidermy & Tannery Association, Estelle Nel Taxidermy offers a wide range of services: from mounting mammals, birds, reptiles; tanning skins and capes; cleaning, mounting and articulating skulls, bones, horns, tusks; to producing novelty leather items, polished horn décor, engraved bones, hoof lamps — even gunbags and furniture. They offer full export packing and crating services, and help clients ship internationally.
What this means is that skins, hides and trophies — once the culmination of a hunt — become far more than personal souvenirs. They become export commodities, contributing to livelihoods of artisans, packers, shippers, and everyone in between.
Yet, as Pieter Swart President of South African Taxidermy & Tannery Association (SATTA)/chairman of SUCO-SA) told us, that path to global markets is not without obstacles.
“Certain airlines allow the shipping of these trophies. I think it’s about four airlines that you can ship them overseas, but the rest refuse to take their hunting trophies to destinations. As well as the sea shipments — there’s only one ship going to America every three months. The rest of the shipping lines refuse to take hunting trophies.”
He lamented the difficulty in logistics. And yet, he sees themselves as part of a broader — and misunderstood — effort. “This anti-animal works movement created the idea that hunting is killing the animals and destroying them to extinction — but that is actually quite the opposite,” he said. “More and more, the guys are farming the animals; that is creating a better future for the animals.”
In other words: regulated, sustainable use — of every part of the animal — can coexist with conservation, economic empowerment, and community upliftment.
Next door to the taxidermy showroom, we toured a modest but hygienic meat-processing Camo Meat facility, run by people like Ina Hechter. They explained that their business started small — in 2012 as a private processing butcher for animals from farms. Around 2017 they expanded into wholesale for local markets. Export remains limited, but local demand is growing.
Their meats include species typical of the South African game-meat industry: kudu, impala, springbok, wildebeest, zebra and others. What began as a niche — somewhat stigmatised — trade is slowly gaining acceptance. Some supermarkets and lodges are carrying game meat; more restaurants are offering “veld flavour.”
Ina told me that in times of drought — when traditional livestock farming may suffer — game-meat businesses often see increased activity. Farms with overstocked wildlife or animals unable to survive drought may harvest and sell meat, skins and other resources. In this way, what might have been a loss can become income, conservation, and food security.
“Our parks are so small that they can’t sustain all the animals that are there,” Ina said. “Especially in drought years … when it’s not raining a lot you will see they die and then they sell the animals.”M
She sees game meat not only as a business, but as part of a broader sustainable economy — offering healthy, lean protein to consumers, easing pressure on overburdened habitats, and circulating value in rural and peri-urban communities.
More than meat and trophies — a conservation-economy model
What struck me during the tour was how holistic the operation is. It isn’t just about hunters bringing back trophies. It’s about using every bit of what exists: meat, skins, hides, horns, bones — even skulls, and decorative by-products. From full-body mounts to polished horn décor, from retail game-meat packages to furniture made from hoofs: this is a full-value chain.
Companies like Estelle Nel Taxidermy are members of formal trade associations and provide professional services — tanning, mounting, packing, export documentation — and in doing so, they help formalize trade in wildlife products.
Meanwhile, the game meat industry — though historically informal — is slowly growing more regulated. According to a recent national biodiversity-economy strategy, game-meat production supports economic growth, food security, and employment. The most commonly produced and consumed species: impala, kudu, wildebeest, springbok.
In other words: when properly managed, this sector has the potential to transform perceptions of wildlife — from being simply “wild animals” to resources that can feed, employ and uplift entire communities.
Challenges — logistics, stigma, regulation
But it’s not all smooth. As Pieter Swart highlighted, export logistics remain a bottleneck: only a few airlines transport trophies; shipping lines are often reluctant; sea freight to markets like the United States may come only every few months. This makes it harder for the industry to scale globally.
Domestically, the market for game meat and wildlife products still battles cultural and regulatory stigma. Many people still frown at game meat; supermarkets and restaurants are only slowly integrating it.
Regulation is another issue: for the industry to be sustainable, wildlife needs to be farmed or managed responsibly, harvesting must follow quotas, and processing must meet health and safety standards. When abattoirs, tanneries, and exporting agents comply with regulation, this gives the industry legitimacy — but it also requires oversight, capacity, and buy-in from all stakeholders.
Our visit painted a picture of a wildlife economy that’s evolving: where skilled artisans turn skins, horns, skulls into enduring art; where processors supply game meat to homes, restaurants and hotels; where farms, outfitters, taxidermists, meat processors, exporters, and even children (learning from mounted displays) all form part of an ecosystem.
It’s a world that challenges simplistic ideas of wildlife as either “pristine wilderness” or “endangered species.” Instead, it shows how — if managed with respect, regulation, and purpose — natural resources can sustain livelihoods, build economies, and forge a bridge between conservation and commerce.
For many of those involved — from Melanie Viljoen to Ina Hechter and Pieter Swart — it’s not just business. It’s home. It’s art. It’s the future.
-
Slider3 years agoInnscor launches brewery to produce Nyathi beer
-
National4 years agoIn perched rural Matabeleland North, renewable energy is vital
-
Tourism and Environment4 years agoStrive Masiyiwa’s daughter opens luxury Victoria Falls lodge
-
Opinion4 years agoA street art mural in Zimbabwe exposes a divided society
-
Special reports4 years agoTinashe Mugabe’s DNA show’s popularity soars, causes discomfort for some
-
National4 years agoVictoria Falls’ pilot dies in helicopter crash
-
National3 years agoCommission of inquiry findings fail to be tabled as Victoria Falls councillors fight
-
National3 years agoHwange coal miner fires workers over salary dispute