A senior Zimbabwean police official has employed five young men to sell foreign currency on the streets of the capital, Harare, but while the police play cat and mouse with the illegal dealers, his "employees" conduct their business undisturbed because they cannot be arrested.
"We sell the foreign currency openly because we are untouchable. Some constables arrested me at one time, even though I had informed them that I was working for their boss. They have been transferred from Harare and after that no-one dares touch us," said one of the dealers, who identified himself as Peter.
He claimed that a number of police officers were selling foreign currency and using their positions to ensure that their agents were protected from arrest.
Besides dealing in foreign currency on the parallel market, the police official also has other "employees" who vend vegetables or cigarettes, and cellphones confiscated from unauthorised vendors.
As Zimbabwe's economy plumbs new depths, some police officials have joined the ranks of company executives who have resorted to moonlighting as dealers, running intricate networks in the informal market to supplement their income.
A police spokesman, Assistant Commissioner Wayne Bvudzijena, told IRIN, "It is illegal to sell foreign currency in the streets, be it policemen or ordinary Zimbabweans, they will be arrested."
Something extra
Every Friday, Stanley Cele, 48, the managing director of a vehicle spare parts company in Harare, takes bags of assorted essentials - ranging from imported cooking oil, laundry soap, detergents and even sweets - to sell at his workplace.
He enlists the help of some of his colleagues to encourage others to buy the goods; those who purchase items have their names written down and are given the option of paying at the end of the month when they receive their salaries.
There is a large sign that prohibits hawking on the firm's premises. "I am aware that there are people out there who scoff at me, saying that as a managing director I am not supposed to be seen hawking; they say it reduces my esteem as the head of the company but I don't care, I have to survive," Cele told IRIN.
The stranglehold of Zimbabwe's seven-year economic recession, characterised by runaway inflation - currently at around 4,000 percent - acute shortages of essential commodities, power and foreign currency, has left 80 percent of the population living below the poverty datum line.
Many company executives are augmenting their incomes in ways that would be unacceptable in a normal economy. "As a manager, before the economic meltdown I used to be fussy when junior employees brought their items, mostly buns for breakfast, to sell on the company premises. Of course, I have now swallowed my pride," Cele said.
Cross-border traders
His wife quit her job as a nurse at the beginning of the year to start cross-border trading, bringing into the country the items that Cele sells to other staff and the employees of neighbouring companies.
She has joined the thousands of others who go mainly to neighbouring South Africa and Botswana to buy goods for resale in Zimbabwe, a business that is proving to be the mainstay of many families.
Most basic commodities are not readily available on Zimbabwean shop shelves but can easily be found on the streets. By bringing the goods to the people at work instead of selling them on the streets, Cele ensures quick sales.
He said his company, which used to have branches nationwide, has hit a low ebb because they were finding it difficult to source foreign currency - scarce in banks but available on the parallel market at exorbitant rates - to import the spare parts that were the company's core business.
"We are performing well below capacity and salaries have been stagnant for a long time, and if things continue like this we might be forced to close down," said Cele, whose take-home pay is a paltry Z$10 million (about US$77 at the parallel market rate of Z$130,000 to US$1).
Crossing the line
He has to keep up appearances, going out for lunch with other executives and wearing expensive clothes, but this cannot be sustained on his meagre salary.
Cele admitted that he sometimes used unorthodox methods to force his employees to buy his goods.
With poor monthly incomes, most of them were reluctant to buy too many items in case they were left with no money, but Cele, particularly near the end of the month, held general meetings with them and brought out his goods after addressing them. "I know they are forced to buy because they want to curry favour with me and believe that that is the best way of keeping their jobs."
However, other employees have also started hawking, plunging the company into chaos and virtually turning the premises into a marketplace; even the security guard in the firm's reception area has set up a stall outside the gate, selling cigarettes, sweets and bananas.
"Almost everyone is doing it because that is the only way to earn a semblance of a living, but we are careful not to bring in goods that the boss is selling because that would mean we are directly competing with him, and that could easily cost our jobs," Absalom Mutsvangwa, the guard, told IRIN.
"Second hand clothes, sugar, vegetables and slaughtered chickens are among the most popular commodities on sale, and employees are now spending most of their time doing that instead of their duties. Workers from the surrounding factories inundate the firm, especially during lunchtime," he said.
Innocent Makwiramiti, an economist and past chief executive officer of the Zimbabwe National Chamber of Commerce, said it was not surprising that company executives were resorting to other means to augment their salaries, because industry was performing poorly.
"Most executives are no longer held in high regard by their juniors because of the coping tactics they have been forced to adopt by the current economic crisis. That has created another problem, in that where a company head is not respected, performance at the workplace suffers and returns diminish," Makwiramiti told IRIN.
The Confederation of Zimbabwe Industries recently indicated that industry was performing at a third of its pre-2000 capacity, while analysts say the economy has shrunk to its pre-1965 level.