The sanctions against Zimbabwe are supposed to hurt the clique surrounding president Mugabe. They may be having the opposite effect. Two young men with dreadlocks hung around idly near a mall in Eastlea, one of the better suburbs in the Zimbabwean capital of Harare, waiting for a potential employer to pick them up. They had folders filled with references and resumés with them and approached every car that rolled onto the parking lot, hoping to find work. "But there is no work," Jason Chivunga sighed. "Because of the sanctions." His former classmate Blessing Kwaramba nodded in agreement. "We are suffering for it. If there was no boycott, Zimbabwe would reach for the stars. Why are we still being punished?" he asked.
Two young men with dreadlocks hung around idly near a mall in Eastlea, one of the better suburbs in the Zimbabwean capital of Harare, waiting for a potential employer to pick them up. They had folders filled with references and resumés with them and approached every car that rolled onto the parking lot, hoping to find work. "But there is no work," Jason Chivunga sighed. "Because of the sanctions." His former classmate Blessing Kwaramba nodded in agreement. "We are suffering for it. If there was no boycott, Zimbabwe would reach for the stars. Why are we still being punished?" he asked.
