"For thousands of Zimbabwean parents, migration is not a choice, but a desperate last resort driven by economic hardship and instability. But when a parent walks away, leaving a sobbing child behind, we must ask: Is any 'greener pasture' worth the cost of a broken family?".
A deepening political and economic crisis since the year 2000 has forced thousands of parents to emigrate, leading to the so-called 'Zimbabwean Exodus' which has seen families flocking to South Africa, Botswana, Namibia, the United Kingdom, the United States, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand, with South Africa being the most common destination. Today, migration is happening both locally and internationally, as people move constantly in search of survival. Yet, have we stopped to ask what happens to our children while we go to fend for them? Have we ever thought that the disadvantages could outweigh the intended benefits?
The question of whether children should be left behind has followed me in my personal observations of families and in my professional work. I recall a family friend who inspires me deeply; she worked outside town but she never took a chance of leaving her son behind. Each time she moves, the child goes with her. When I asked why she continues to “bother” the child with constant movement, she replied simply, “My son is my problem that I need to stick with. I must be stuck with him, not let someone else get stuck because of him.” Her response struck me. If it were me, I thought, I might have left the child with his grandmother once he was weaned. Another acquaintance migrated to the United Kingdom and chose to go with her child immediately, refusing to leave him with relatives as is often done. From these examples, I concluded that it is possible to plan to remain together with our children at some point, no matter the situation. If there is one deficiency we are suffering right now as a community, as families and as individuals, it is love; that deep sense of belonging and oneness which separation has scattered.
Personally, I value quality time with family, and this new normal of us living disjointedly irritates me. A father becomes a visitor in his own home. A mother comes in and out like a guest. We try to fill the gap with WhatsApp calls, video chats, and messages, but they are poor substitutes for presence. Is the very definition of family being redefined in our modern society? Some may argue that even in the old days, men would go to work in distant mines or cities while children were left in rural homes. But have we ever reflected on what this did to our families? That pattern left scars that are still visible today. Many families were ruined when fathers never returned, and others were destroyed by the spread of HIV during long separations. Are we allowing history to repeat itself under a different name? definitely no we must do something.
The children of migration face a complex mixture of gains and losses. For some, remittances improve quality of life and create access to better opportunities. But for many, especially when parents fail to secure stable employment abroad, migration disrupts income and destabilises children’s education. In Zimbabwe schools, unpaid fees are common even among children with parents in the diaspora. Some children drop out entirely, exposing them to abuse, exploitation, or early marriage which violates a child’s right to quality education (SDG 4). Beyond financial support, children of migrants often suffer academic instability. Many move from one relative to another, shifting schools repeatedly. By the time they finish primary school, they may have attended four or more institutions, each with different teachers, friends, and values. The constant uprooting overwhelms them, forcing them into premature maturity. They have a long history and a lot of experience that does not equal their age. Listen to them when they speak, their language is that of an old man or old woman.
Parenting is more than providing money. Every parent has an idea of the values they want to see in their child, but when children are raised by multiple guardians, those values become diluted, replaced by a patchwork of inconsistent lessons. Expecting children to exhibit good values we never planted is like expecting a harvest in land we never sowed. In the past, values were reinforced through everyday practices such as shared meals, where children learned manners, gratitude, and respect. But when parents are absent for years, children forget those small but important lessons. I remember when my own mother returned from South Africa after some years; we had even forgotten to say “thank you” after eating. She tried to keep on reminding us every day but we couldn’t manage, it just felt awkward. Such gaps seem small, but they reveal how deeply parental absence reshapes children’s development.
Let's think about where we leave our children when we migrate locally, regionally or internationally. We can agree that not all spaces are actually safe for our children whether with a guardian, maid or child headed. Some children are mistreated or neglected where we leave them. In such cases, they yearn for love and acceptance anywhere they can find it whether at school, in the streets, or among strangers. But not every space is safe for them. A hug from a parent, an assurance of love through daily presence, is something no one else can replace. This yearning explains why many children raised by step-parents later abandon those households to seek their “real” mothers and fathers. We may label them ungrateful, but perhaps it is a natural longing for connection with the people they truly belong to.
From a social justice perspective, the consequences of parental migration go far beyond individual families. Children’s right to belonging, protection, and emotional security is being eroded. Migration is not merely a personal decision; it is a systemic injustice, a reflection of economic and political conditions that force people to choose between survival and family unity. In community psychology, belonging is a fundamental value. Without it, individuals grow up fragmented, disconnected from family and community bonds. The mental health of children left behind is compromised by separation anxiety, loneliness, and unresolved grief which violates child’s rights to good health and wellbeing (SDG 3). A nation cannot thrive when its children are raised without stable caregivers, values, or protection.
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So, what can be done? At the family level, parents can make deliberate decisions to keep children close, even when it is inconvenient. It is possible to plan migration in ways that preserve family unity. Communities, too, must strengthen support systems for children of migrants through mentorship, safe community spaces, and vigilance against abuse. Policy makers must address the root causes by creating decent jobs at home so that migration is no longer the only path to survival. They must also integrate child protection into migration policies, ensuring that children left behind are not invisible casualties of economic hardship. As psychologists and social workers, we must step in to provide psychosocial support to children of migrants, helping them process grief, loneliness, and disconnection before these invisible wounds harden into lifelong scars.
Migration should never mean that children lose their right to belonging. As a society, we must resist normalizing disconnection as the cost of survival. Remittances may put food on the table, but they cannot tuck a child into bed at night. Money may pay school fees, but it cannot teach values through daily presence. No financial gain can substitute for love, attention, and security. Our children deserve more than survival. They deserve families that are present, communities that protect them, and a nation that creates opportunities without tearing them apart.
If there is any truth we must hold on to, it is that no remittance can replace a warm embrace from a parent. This is a call to reflection and action not judgment. Migration isn’t inherently wrong, but how we plan it matters. Let’s not allow our children to become emotional refugees while we search for economic survival. Because at the end of the day, the real greener pasture is where our children grow in love, security, and presence.
nOttilia Mabhena is an intern community psychologist affiliated with Identity Consultancy, she writes in her own capacity. She can be contacted on [email protected]
