THE glow of smartphones pierces our nights now, brighter than kerosene lamps ever were. In Harare, clusters of teenagers huddle under mango trees, eyes locked on screens as they chase the Aviator game’s ascending graph — a digital embodiment of our national rollercoaster.
Last week, a 16-year-old daughter confessed she had pawned her school calculator to place “just one more bet”.
Her words hung in the dark like Zesa Holdings’ abandoned power lines: “Amai (mother), it’s the only thing that climbs here”.
Across Africa, 38% of youth engage in online betting according to GeoPoll’s 2023 study, but in Zimbabwe — where the International Monetary Fund (IMF) reports 90% survive on informal trade — Aviator is not mere entertainment; it is a distress signal from a generation watching traditional ladders to prosperity collapse.
This crisis mirrors global patterns, yet it carries uniquely Zimbabwean DNA. The World Health Organisation recently flagged “gambling disorder” as the fastest-growing behavioural addiction among youths in developing economies.
Yet here, the stakes are existential. When my sister’s son, Tawanda, lost his university fees — US$347 painstakingly accumulated through six months of tomato hawking at Mbare Musika — his family ate one meal for weeks to recoup the loss.
The Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe notes mobile money transactions hit US$17 billion last quarter, with analysts estimating 30% flowed through betting platforms.
Our children are not reckless; They are rational actors in an economy where the official inflation rate dances at 285%, and Aviator’s 10-second bets feel more predictable than pension funds. As a development practitioner, I have watched mothers at boreholes trade strategies like stockbrokers: “Cash out at 2x multiplier before the plane crashes!”
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Their laughter rings hollow, echoing the 2008 hyperinflation trauma when we carried suitcases of trillion-dollar notes for bread.
Africa’s youth bulge, 60% under 25, becomes a tinderbox when disconnected from opportunity.
While our continent boasts the world’s youngest population, the African Development Bank reveals 40% of Zimbabwean graduates languish in unemployment.
Aviator fills this vacuum with adrenaline economics, its algorithm exploiting what behavioural economists term “intermittent reinforcement”. My daughter’s generation chases not greed, but agency — however illusory.
Psychologist Tendai Mhaka explains: “The game’s rising graph mimics the economic ‘miracle’ narratives politicians peddle. Youth aren’t gambling — they’re grasping for control in systems that failed them”.
This desperation transcends borders: In Kenya, betting apps drain US$50 million monthly from low-income households; South Africa’s National Gambling Board reports 15% of teens pawn school uniforms to bet.
Yet within this crisis lies Ubuntu’s clarion call - the ancient philosophy whispering, “Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu” (I am because we are). Rwanda’s approach offers clues: By banning unlicenced betting apps while launching Irembo tech hubs in rural areas, they have reduced youth gambling by 22% while boosting digital skills.
Botswana’s “Digi-Thuto” programme partners grandmothers with teens to develop apps addressing community needs, like water scarcity alerts. Zimbabwe’s own mushandirapamwe spirit — communal work groups that built schools post-independence — could be reimagined for the digital age.
Imagine cooperatives where teens monetise coding skills instead of gambling luck, guided by elders’ survival wisdom.
Grassroots movements are stirring. The Vhara Aviator campaign, spearheaded by mothers, combines app-blocking tutorials with vocational workshops.
“We’re not luddites fighting technology,” insists founder Mai Tinashe, whose son dropped out of university chasing losses.
“We’re redirecting its wings”. Their WhatsApp groups buzz with opportunities: Unesco’s YouthMobile courses, Harare Innovation Hub hackathons, and grants from the African Union’s Digital Transformation Fund.
Early results? Around 63% of participants now run microbusinesses — from solar-charging stations to apps mapping clean water sources. Take 19-year-old Tamuka, who turned his Aviator obsession into a coding career: “I reverse-engineered the game’s algorithm, now I build apps helping farmers predict maize prices”.
Governments and tech giants must match this ingenuity. Kenya’s 20% tax on betting revenues funds youth entrepreneurship grants — a model Zimbabwe could adapt given our US$40 million monthly betting turnover.
Meta’s partnership with Africa Fact Checkers to flag predatory apps shows corporate responsibility’s potential. Yet real change demands confronting root causes: The World Bank’s US$2,5 billion Zimbabwe Recovery Fund remains stalled by geopolitical wrangling, while Harare City Council allocates more to mayoral Mercedes-Benzes than innovation hubs.
Our policy-makers resemble Aviator players themselves — gambling on quick fixes while the plane hurtles downward. Education systems must evolve too.
Zambia integrates financial literacy into primary curricula, teaching compound interest through village savings groups. Why not Zimbabwe?
“We’re stuck preparing kids for factories that closed in the 90s,” laments teacher Mrs Chido at Goromonzi High. Her students created a viral TikTok series #AviatorLies using math to debunk betting odds — a modern twist on Ubuntu’s communal learning.
My son’s generation inherits a world where AI and climate chaos collide. Last month, I found him teaching his peers Python via Khan Academy’s offline platform.
“We’re building an app,” he said, “for trading textbooks, not bets.”
His screen now glows with code, not gambling graphs. They have even coded a “Ubuntu meter” — tracking community impact over individual gains. The path forward demands systemic Ubuntu.
Intergenerational dialogue can merge elders’ resilience with youth tech prowess.
Picture community labs where grandmothers’ crop rotation wisdom informs AI soil sensors.
Ethical tech expansion means demanding platforms invest in local upskilling, not extraction — MTN’s “Mom & Baby” coding workshops in Uganda show it’s possible.
Policy Ubuntu requires redirecting betting taxes to innovation grants, as Nigeria’s Youth Investment Fund does.
Corporate accountability remains key. While Aviator’s Russian creators profit from African despair, local innovators like Sharon Marufu’s TechVillage connect coders with global gigs.
“We’re proving our youth aren’t gamblers — they’re digital warriors,” she asserts.
Her platform’s 10 000 users earn an average US$200 monthly - triple the national wage. As the African proverb goes, “A single bracelet doesn’t jingle”.
Our children’s wings won’t be clipped by paternalism but lifted through collective action. Let Aviator’s crash be the wake-up call that reignites mushandirapamwe for the digital age. For their survival is ours, a truth Ubuntu has always known. Until then, let us keep spreading positivity (#spreadpositivity). We were here, becoming better, making our mark.
- Chirenje writes in her personal capacity as a citizen of Zimbabwe. Twitter: @graceruvimbo; Facebook: Grace Chirenje; Instagram: @graceruvimbo
