Harare, the capital of Zimbabwe, known as Salisbury during the colonial Rhodesian era, bears a legacy of deep racial and occupational segregation that still shapes its urban geography and socio-economic inequalities today. Much of the city’s layout, residential zoning, and infrastructure were deliberately crafted to reflect the rigid hierarchies of a settler colonial regime that entrenched race, class, and profession into the city’s very design.
By Brighton Musonza
What many may not know—or perhaps choose to forget—is that Salisbury was not merely a city divided by race; it was a microcosm of apartheid-style urban planning where every neighbourhood served a functional and racialised purpose. Housing allocations were systematically determined by race, profession, and the economic role of each demographic in sustaining the Rhodesian settler economy.
Black Urban Labour: The Outer Rim of the City
In the colonial blueprint, black Africans were placed at the periphery of economic and social life, even as their labour built the city’s foundations. Suburbs such as Mbare (formerly Harari Township) and Highfield were among the first “African locations” established to accommodate black workers employed in nearby industrial zones. These areas were not designed for comfort or permanence; they were dormitory townships meant to ensure proximity to white-owned industries while keeping African labour spatially distanced from the white population.
Similarly, Mabvuku and Tafara were built to house domestic workers serving the white elite in Greendale and Highlands, as well as workers at the cement factory. Glen Norah emerged to provide accommodation for workers in the tobacco processing industry—yet another example of how entire suburbs were engineered around the labour needs of Rhodesian industries, with no thought for the long-term urban development of black communities.
Rugare and Dzivarasekwa, though newer by colonial standards, were built specifically for employees of the National Railways of Zimbabwe (NRZ), reinforcing the trend of industry-specific and race-specific settlement.
The “Coloured” and Asian Buffer Zones
Coloured communities, categorised under a different legal and social regime from black Africans, occupied areas such as Arcadia and Sunningdale. These suburbs were designated for clerks, shop assistants, and artisans—mostly coloured men and women employed in semi-skilled work in central Salisbury or in the light industrial areas.
Notably, Belvedere and adjacent areas became home to the Asian (mainly Indian) community. While excluded from white suburbs, they formed a dynamic retail economy, dominating the Kopje commercial zone with small businesses, shops, and warehouses. Their marginalisation was both spatial and economic, confined yet commercially vital to the city’s colonial economy.
In Houghton Park, an interesting demographic shift occurred. Originally home to the Greek community, it was later informally overtaken by coloured residents in what some referred to as a “hostile takeover” in the late colonial period—a reminder of how racial hierarchies could also shift within settler-imposed structures.
White Salisbury: Layers of Privilege
The white population, which constituted a minority, was granted exclusive access to prime residential zones based on profession, income, and status. This was not a monolithic group, however. Even within white society, class distinctions manifested in spatial planning.
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Hatfield housed white airport workers, a working-to-middle-class area strategically located near the Harare International Airport.
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Mabelreign was designated for white factory managers and skilled artisans.
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Marlborough and Avondale became home to government employees, such as teachers and nurses—middle-class but respectable.
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Southerton accommodated medical professionals working at Harare Hospital, once a whites-only facility.
The military hierarchy was also reflected in the urban design:
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Cranborne and Hillside were for middle-ranking army officers stationed at 2 Brigade and Commando Barracks.
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Gunhill, adjacent to what is now the KGVI army headquarters, was the residential zone for senior military and air force officials.
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Breaside, a lesser-known but strategically located suburb, was almost entirely populated by white police officers from the Rhodesian forces.
At the top of the residential pyramid were Borrowdale, Highlands, and Chisipite—home to white politicians, senior civil servants, and the elite business class. These suburbs were marked by large plots, manicured gardens, private schools, and strict zoning laws—urban utopias built on racial exclusion.
Post-Independence Shadows
More than four decades after independence, Harare still bears the marks of its colonial origins. While political power has changed hands, the city remains spatially stratified. Formerly white suburbs remain affluent and better serviced, while former townships suffer from neglect, overpopulation, and decaying infrastructure. Property ownership and zoning laws continue to reflect the colonial spatial economy.
Urban planning in Harare cannot be properly understood without acknowledging the layered legacies of racialised development. The struggle for land, housing, and equitable service delivery in today’s Harare is directly tied to the historic inequalities imposed by Rhodesian spatial engineering.
This history is not merely academic. It is lived every day—by the commuter from Mabvuku who travels two hours to the city centre, by the overcrowded families in Mbare whose homes were never intended for permanent settlement, and by the continued gentrification of places like Arcadia and Belvedere.
Conclusion: Understanding Harare Requires Confronting Its Colonial Spatial DNA
To build a fairer, more inclusive Harare, we must first understand how the city was deliberately designed to segregate. Urban inequality in Zimbabwe’s capital is not accidental. It is structural, planned, and inherited. Harare’s past is a map of its present—and without acknowledging its apartheid geography, the dream of an equal city will remain deferred.
By unearthing the hidden histories of neighbourhoods like Gunhill, Arcadia, Rugare, and Sunningdale, we begin to see that urban space in Harare is not neutral. It is political. And it demands a reckoning.
