In Zambia, there is an adage that it takes the whole village to raise a child, which means that it takes contributions and philanthropy of community members to raise a child.
However, in the corridors of Zambia’s universities, there exists a silent but powerful form of philanthropy not the grand kind funded by formal corporations or global foundations. It is deeply human, everyday generosity exchanged between young people fighting to survive.
It is the culture of borrowing, lending, topping up and bailing each other out daily struggle on university campus.
While the public conversation about philanthropy often revolves around high net-worth donations and corporate social responsibility, the truth is that Zambia’s tertiary institutions such as University of Zambia, Copperbelt University, University of Lusaka, Mulungushi University, Cavendish University and others are sustained daily by small acts of financial solidarity.
These acts of kindness, often involving modest sums of money, groceries, data bundles, transport fares and emotional support, have kept scores of students in school long enough to graduate into successful adults.
This is the story of grassroots philanthropy in its localised form, student to student, pocket to pocket, heart to heart kind of giving and receiving.
University life in Zambia has never been easy, especially now when the broader national economy has been biting everyone who exists in it.
From rising tuition fees, costly accommodation, inadequate meal and book allowances to the ever-growing cost of living on campus continues to exert uncomfortable pressure on the young intellectuals.
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For some, survival is a day to day struggle of tactical calculation involving balancing meals, groceries and even drinks in whatever form they are consumed.
Yet within this difficulty, students have built a safety net of informal support systems and this can be seen by how students flaunt their money in supermarkets, restaurants and even bars and nightclubs.
“It is not easy to survive on campus, but there is something interesting going on.
“I personally have friends pooling money together for food. But we have one good thing going on in our place where some guys in the boarding house are operating like a micro credit company with money lending arrangements based on trust, repayment reputation and the common understanding that money will always help another person,” said Julius Kabwe, a third year University of Lusaka student in international relations.
Philanthropy, in this context, is not charitable giving from abundance, but it is giving from scarcity. Students give because they know the experience that they give to others based on their own experience with the struggles on campus.
Life on Zambian university campuses covers several emotional narratives and for many graduates like Sara Ngwenya from University of Zambia, their journey to receiving a university degree began with a borrowed K20 to photocopy enrolment forms.
Others have borrowed a K30 for lunch or K50 for transport home. These amounts may seem small to some wealthy people, but inside student campus communities, this can be a life saver.
“If my roommate didn’t lend me K500 for my project printing, I would have missed the submission.
“That day changed my life,” recalled a fourth-year student at the University of Zambia, who pledged anonymity.
Another graduate from Cavendish University explained how a friend paid half her tuition balance in her final semester: “She told me, ‘I want to see you graduate. We will figure out the money later.’
“She changed my destiny,” the graduate said.
These stories, though rarely documented, illustrate the profound role of informal giving at tertiary institutions. Student philanthropy is strengthened by three key forms of social capital including friendship networks, community and ethnic bonds and digital networks such as WhatsApp and Facebook groups that have become emergency response platforms.
One key lesson is that these student networks reflect a truth often ignored in development discussions showing that young people are not passive beneficiaries but they are active philanthropists themselves.
When graduates reflect on their journey, they often speak about the resilience they built, the intellectual challenges they overcame and the mentorship they received.
Rarely do they speak publicly about the countless acts of financial kindness that kept them enrolled.
As Zambia discusses youth empowerment, national development, and the future of its labour force, it must also acknowledge these invisible economies that keep students in school.
Many of today’s doctors, journalists, engineers, lawyers, entrepreneurs and civil servants did not rely solely on government allowances or parental support.
They were sustained by course mates, who lent or out rightly gave them money, including friends who bought them meals and other who paid for their printing because they recognised their potential.
Many of the graduates shaping Zambia today including professionals in hospitals, newsrooms, classrooms, technology hubs and government offices stand where they stand because someone once gave them a small amount that made a big difference.
This informal culture is philanthropy in its purest form, not institutional, not bureaucratic and not usually publicised, but it has continued to push thousands of students into their semesters to graduation.
*The African Philanthropy Network (APN) is documenting success stories of African individuals and organizations engaged in philanthropic acts to raise awareness and to motivate locally driven development.
