When Stephen Mazibisa, a Zimbabwean teacher, left Bulawayo in 2008 to earn more money teaching maths in Johannesburg, he did not expect an attack to force him back


Personal security

2 There came a point when Stephen Mazibisa decided the $370 per month he was earning as a maths teacher in Bulawayo could no longer sustain his family. “That is what forced me to join the great trek to South Africa,” says the 37 year old. In October 2008, Mazibisa left for Johannesburg to teach at Thomas Mofolo Secondary School in Soweto, where he earned R19,500 ($1,950) per month. Getting work and residence permits was an expensive process, and he religiously sent between R8,000 to R10,000 to his family each month. The money he sent built an extension to his house and enrolled his two kids in private school. Before the FIFA World Cup in 2010, people frustrated by high unemployment rates vented their anger on foreigners. In a wave of xenophobic violence, Mazibisa saw his Nigerian neighbours beaten and raped. Mazibisa was assaulted by his students with a baseball bat, leaving him with head injuries and fractures to his arms. He spent almost two weeks in hospital. “What pained me most was none of my family members cared to visit me, but they all kept sending messages demanding money.” In January 2010, he packed his bags, and left Johannesburg without notifying the school authorities or his family. His family thought he had just come back for the weekend, and “all hell broke loose” when he told them he was back for good. “Instead of sympathising with me for the suffering I went through, I was subjected to insults.” He is now back in Bulawayo teaching maths and sociology at a private college. “The money may not be enough, but I am happy that I do not have to worry about personal security,” he said. “To me life is much more important. Financial benefits cannot compensate lost time being with your family.”security,” he said. “To me life is much more important. Financial benefits cannot compensate lost time being with your family.

Cameroonian farmer. After studying and working in the United States for 27 years, Cornelius Ndimba is back in the village of Ngeptang to run a plantation and set up a school.

It was difficult fitting in

3 Tucked among the hills of Cameroon’s North West Region is Ngeptang, a lowly hamlet with a population hardly surpassing 2,500. Among them, Cornelius Ndimba sticks out. His fluent English, mannerisms and style of dress are different from those of his village peers. The 64-year-old is a returnee from the US, where he spent 27 years after leaving in 1983 to further his education. “I actually abandoned a job as retail manager with an oil company, Gulf Oil, to go gain experience so I could come back here and develop my community in my own way,” he says. “I was barely 25 years old when I left and, looking back, my community was in dire need of development. I believed going to study abroad would enable me to bring home solutions to our development drawbacks.” While in the US, he obtained a bachelor’s degree in education and a master’s in business administration. On the sidelines, he earned money as secondary and high school teacher, saving part for his return home. In 2008, while still in the US, he established a 15-hectare oil palm plantation in Ngeptang. The business has so far trained and permanently employed 15 villagers. During the harvest season, about 30 village youths are temporarily recruited. Now in Ngeptang, he spends part of his time offering lessons for free at the lone primary school. “It was difficult fitting in at first. No electricity, no internet, no pipe-borne water and so on. But my five kids and their mother, who is Cameroonian, are now used to the situation. My biggest challenge is implementing what I brought back knowledge-wise. I plan to start up a college here, but things unfold rather very slowly,” he says. “I made a very good choice to come back especially considering I lost my two parents while away, and then my elder brother. I think the village needed me to help in its development.”

Libyan businessman, Mohammed Elkish was born in London and went to Benghazi to start a family in 2009. When the revolution began, he became a spokesman for the National Transitional Council

Things will straighten up

4 When the revolution started, Mohammed Elkish was celebrating his marriage. The British Libyan, who worked in aviation sales and hospitality, most recently at London’s Heathrow Airport, had decided to move to Benghazi when the global economy began to stumble. “I wanted to get married and settle down,” he says, “and profit – and business – wise, Benghazi for me was much, much better than London. It’s an emerging market.” When the revolution against Muammar Gaddafi began in early 2011, Elkish considered leaving but decided to volunteer for the National Transitional Council, co-ordinating interactions between its leaders and the media. “I thought that my international expertise would come in handy, and it did,” he says. He has since opened a travel company, operating out of Benghazi, though moving felt like “starting from scratch”, he says, because all his contacts were in London. But there have also been downsides to moving. Following an operation, he has to return to London for regular check-ups because he prefers the quality of medical treatment there. “The medical sector in Libya needs upgrading and updating,” says Elkish. “There are excellent doctors but they don’t have the facilities.” In spite of this, he thinks he made the right choice. “I do not regret it. One way or another, things will straighten up. There was too much blood and lives lost for it all to go to waste.” But there have also been downsides to moving. Following an operation, he has to return to London for regular check-ups because he prefers the quality of medical treatment there. “The medical sector in Libya needs upgrading and updating,” says Elkish. “There are excellent doctors but they don’t have the facilities.” In spite of this, he thinks he made the right choice. “I do not regret it. One way or another, things will straighten

After working with trauma patients in New York, South African Psychologist, Nataly Woollett returned home to help victims of domestic violence.

I wanted to come back and give back

6 While working as a psychologist specialising in trauma in New York in the wake of the 11 September 2001 attacks, Nataly Woollett, 40, also worked with undocumented migrants, many of whom struggled to get access to health services. The people she worked with had limited resources, like those she worked with in South Africa. “My history here primed me for trauma work. I worked with people who were marginalised in both contexts.” After eight years in the US, on top of years in London working in an investment bank and training as an art therapist, she decided it was time to move back to Johannesburg. “I wanted to come back and give back in my professional capacity,” she says. “I felt a sense of guilt about not giving back to my own environment.” When she moved back after 15 years overseas, it was partly due to homesickness and partly because she wanted to experience the exciting political changes that were occurring in her home country at the time. “It’s a hopeful time, even if it is challenging. I didn’t want to miss what was happening here politically.” Two years ago, Woollett and a group of psychologists and lawyers set up an organisation to support victims of domestic violence. “I think one of the amazing things I’ve seen here is the level of opportunity,” she says. “If you have a good idea and you have momentum and initiative you can get really involved in ways that you can’t in more developed contexts.” Woollett now works in HIV treatment and prevention. Much of her work is based in the inner-city area of Hillbrow. “The people coming back and the migrants coming into South Africa make it an amazing place. Most people who come here want to get stuck in. This sort of energy is hopeful.”

Rwandan businessman, Frederic Ngirabacu returned to Rwanda after graduating with a degree in business in Belgium and now helps businessmen in Kigali improve their operations.

I can add more value in Africa than in Europe

7 When he left Rwanda in December 1994 at the age of 18, Frederic Ngirabacu left behind a country devastated by genocide. Back in Kigali, Frederic says he is in the right place: “I can add more value in Africa than in Europe.” When the genocide first began, Ngirabacu’s family spent three months on the run. Once the killings ended, his family settled in Brussels. As a student at the Université de Liège studying business engineering, Ngirabacu was sure that he would one day run his own business. “Rwanda was just a coincidence. I was open to going anywhere on the continent, and I’m still open to going somewhere else,” he explains. Joining the telecoms company Tigo, Ngirabacu went to Kigali in 2009. In 2011, he started his own management consultancy. Leaving a good job and assured life in Europe for an ‘adventure’ in Africa made no sense to some of his friends and family. But Ngirabacu felt Europe was saturated and Africa had much to offer in terms of business creation. Although Rwanda has had a lot of infrastructure development, Ngirabacu says that poor business education has made it difficult to find capable employees. He has also had trouble convincing businesses of the need for his services to transform informal business into a more structured set-up. He plans to expand his company across the continent: “Africa is where the opportunities are,” he says.xxeducation has made it difficult to find capable employees. He has also had trouble convincing businesses of the need for his services to transform informal business into a more structured set-up. He plans to expand his company across the continent: “Africa is where the opportunities are,” he says.

Going back was far from their minds

9 When Padre Kibangoud, 28, was handed his admission forms in 2005 for a university in Shandong province, eastern China, he didn’t speak a word of English or Mandarin, and he had never set foot outside his native Republic of Congo. Obtaining a visa to study at a western university had proved cumbersome and expensive, so his father decided to send him to China. Today, the details of the daunting lonely journey to the Chinese metropolis of Jinan are still etched on his mind. His only prop was a handwritten note from an uncle, in English, to identify him as a student in case he got lost. “At the time, I was a bit traumatized by the experience,” says Kibangoud. “When I arrived on the university campus after a five-hour train trip and finally sat down in my room, I broke down in tears.” Kibangoud didn’t see his parents for the next five years; there wasn’t enough money to visit during the holidays. As he worked toward completing his master’s degree in automation and control engineering, an Asian agribusiness giant came to the campus to recruit young talent. Expanding its operations in Africa, the company said it was especially interested in African students who might be willing to work on the continent. “More than 30 students attended the first company presentations,” Kibangoud says. “Most students planned to move on to Europe or the United States after getting a degree. Going back home was far from their mind.” Kibangoud, however, believes his future lies in Africa. Even as a youngster, he focused on learning technical skills. “I come from an oil-producing country, and I decided early on that I should orient myself toward a profession that will be useful in the oil and gas industry.” The thing he admires most about the Chinese are their discipline and organised approach to work, he says. For nearly two years, Kibangoud worked at vegetable-oil extraction plants in China before accepting a transfer to Ghana. While poverty and unemployment remain widespread, Kibangoud believes the labor market will improve as a variety of emerging economic powers is preparing to invest in the continent. “India, China and Brazil are all looking at Africa and I think together they will gradually create a new dynamic that can boost the economic environment.” “Ghana is interesting because it’s very different from Congo, yet it is still Africa. It’s good to have this international experience. I’ve always wanted to work for a big company where I can learn new things and improve myself. I’m very happy where I am now and I don’t think much about what’s next. But one day, I will return home.”

Working, playing, not saving money

10 It was a shock for Tidiane Sow when he first set foot in Dakar in 2010 after almost two decades living in the United States, working first as a mechanic for a New York cab owner, then at Ford and Chrysler. “Did I come from here?” he recalls asking himself. “What is this place?” When he left Senegal as a troublesome teenager, the roads were paved, people had money and his parents were relatively young. When he came back in 2010, the streets of his neighbourhood were full of potholes and his parents had grown old. Sow, 40, had been worrying about the fact that although he sometimes earned as much as $2,000 a week in the USA, he never had any savings. “I had everything I wanted. It was work hard, play hard. But it came to a certain point where I thought, I can’t keep doing this: working, playing, not saving money. It made me realise I needed to go back.” Taking over the role as head of the family in the wake of his father’s death, Sow started a mechanic’s workshop. It is one of the only ones in Senegal that can work on Porsches and BMWs, which increasingly ply the streets of Dakar. “I can make money here,” he said to himself. Despite his wealthy clients, his workshop remains a modest outfit in the garage of the house he grew up in, spilling into the sandy and oil-stained street outside. His strict work ethic has led to high staff turnover. “This is Senegal, man,” he says in his New York drawl. “You say come at 8 o’clock, they show up at 10 o’clock. They show up for two or three days, they take a day off. Three times you’re gone, man, no exceptions.” Sow often hears people saying he was crazy to go back. “It’s very hard staying here,” he says, “but at the same time, you feel at home. Here I work and feed my family, that’s the difference.” He has married his secretary and built a house. He says he does not regret going away, but he regrets not coming back often to visit, seeing the business landscape, building up staff, importing the right equipment. “If I had come often, I would have got the equipment I wanted to suit Senegal better,” he says.