When I was growing up, I was fortunate (or depending how you look at it, “competitively traumatized”) to attend one of the most respected boarding schools in Zimbabwe — Marist Brothers Nyanga. And let me tell you, from the moment you arrived on that misty mountain, you were not a student — you were a gladiator.
In Form One, they didn’t even give us time to breathe. Second month of school? Boom! Something called “Zero Hour” — a midterm test while your socks were still new and your trunk still smelled of home. They’d gather the whole form one stream would gather in the gym, then announce results from Number 1 to Number Last. Yes, you read that right — not bottom 10, not anonymous results. Public shame was a subject of its own.
Now don’t get me wrong, Marist shaped us. It made us strong. It made us sharp. It made us… a little too obsessed with being number one. The culture was built around competition. Whether it was in the classroom, on the football pitch, singing in church, or even rushing to the dining hall for chicken stew — we were always trying to outdo each other.
📌 Who could finish first in class.
📌 Who scored the most goals.
📌 Who sang the loudest during Benediction.
📌 Who got the biggest piece of chicken.
But here’s the twist: many people who went to Marist Brothers are still competing — at 30, 40, even 50.
They’re still trying to be Number 1:
- Number 1 in cars (even if it’s on credit and 95% of salary is going to ZB).
- Number 1 in wives (she must look like Miss Tourism even if you can’t hold a conversation).
- Number 1 in business titles (never mind there’s no business model).
And the saddest part? We don’t collaborate.
We don’t support each other’s businesses.
We see each other’s success as a threat, not an opportunity.
We celebrate silently when someone stumbles.
And we still hide our test papers — only now it’s business ideas, opportunities, and contacts.
Meanwhile, I met a group of white businesspeople recently. They’ve built an industrial park — real estate, tech hubs, warehouses — all working together. You know what they said?
“We all went to St Georges.”
Same school, different mindset.
They were taught collaboration.
They didn’t clap for number 1 and ignored number 40. ( I don’t know if its true , that is what they told me )
They didn’t cover their books in class.
They shared, they networked, they built together.
Even Bonda Girls, Kriste Mambo, and other mission schools carried that competitive spirit. It’s no wonder we end up asking for donations alone, fighting alone, and collapsing alone.
Truth is: Life is not a classroom. Life is not a test. And life is definitely not about who finishes the stew first.
🔥 Life is about collaboration.
🔥 Life is about partnerships.
🔥 Life is about saying, “Hey, copy my homework – let’s win together.”
So here’s my humble submission to every school head, curriculum planner, and parent:
Stop ranking kids like we’re preparing them for a gladiator tournament.
Stop giving gold medals for solo missions.
Start rewarding teamwork.
Start teaching emotional intelligence.
Start including modules on communication, empathy, partnerships, and community building.
Because in this life:
✅ You’ll need someone to vouch for you.
✅ You’ll need someone to help you win a tender.
✅ You’ll need someone to show you how PAYE actually works.
✅ You’ll need someone to lend you money when the economy takes a nosedive.
✅ You’ll need someone to tell you your idea is foolish ,before the market does.
Let’s stop producing number ones and start producing teams that win together.
Because in real life, there is no Zero Hour, but there’s a whole lot of zeroes if we don’t learn to collaborate.
