Online Reporter
Your Money, Your Call
Cresencia Marjorie Chiremba
IT starts with a bucket: a 20-litre promise.
It is a visual cue that says: “This is what you are paying for.”
But what if that promise is hollow — literally?
A retired colonel, one of my long-time column readers, recently called with a concern both alarming and deeply familiar to many market-goers.
He had noticed something strange: vendors were selling beans, potatoes and other produce in 20-litre buckets that simply did not add up.
When he got home and poured the contents into a standard container, the truth spilled out — he had been short-changed.
“Pane chitsotsi chakavanzika — bucket racho harizari! (There is a subtle form of theft — the bucket is not full!)”
What is happening is a quiet manipulation of trust.
Vendors are tampering with the bottoms of their buckets — raising them, padding or reshaping them — so the container appears full, but holds significantly less. To the naked eye, it is a generous heap of produce.
To the wallet, it is daylight robbery.
This is not just about a handful of beans missing. It is about the erosion of dignity in our daily transactions.
It is about the mother budgeting tightly for her family’s meals, the pensioner stretching his last dollar and the ethical vendor who loses customers to trickery.
“Ko chii chiri kuitika kumisika yedu? (What is happening in our markets?),” customers are querying.
Markets are the heartbeat of Zimbabwean life. They are where stories are exchanged with tomatoes, where laughter is traded for sweet potatoes and where trust is supposed to be the currency.
But when deception creeps in, it poisons the entire experience.
Let us be clear: not all vendors are guilty.
Many are hard working, ethical and simply trying to survive. But the few who tamper with containers are creating a ripple effect of mistrust. And worse, they are normalising dishonesty.
Why does this scam work so well?
Because we trust symbols. A 20-litre bucket is a visual shorthand for value. We do not question it — we accept it. Vendors know this; they bank on it. And unless we start challenging these assumptions, the scam will continue.
So what can be done?
Consumer awareness: Let us start talking. Share stories. Post photos. If you have been duped, say so. Silence protects the scam.
Vendor accountability: Ethical vendors must speak out. If you are running an honest business, help expose those who are not. Your silence is complicity.
Market regulation: The authorities must inspect containers and enforce standards. A simple check could prevent thousands of dollars in losses.
Community action: Let us create a “verified vendor” system — using stickers, posters or WhatsApp groups that highlight honest sellers.
This issue is not just about beans and buckets. It is about the kind of society we are building: one where dignity is measured not just in grand gestures, but in the fairness of a market transaction.
Respecting the customer begins with how we sell. Across Harare, and beyond, customers are waking up to the realisation that not everything is as it seems.
Meanwhile, vendors who play fair are losing business to those who manipulate.
To the colonel who called me — thank you. You reminded us that vigilance is a form of patriotism.
That even in retirement, one can serve the nation by defending its values.
To every reader, next time you buy from a bucket, ask yourself: What is beneath the surface?
Cresencia Marjorie Chiremba is a marketing and customer service consultant, customer experience columnist, and sales and service trainer. Contact details: [email protected] or +263712979461, 0719978335, 0772978335, www.customersuccess.co.zw
