Commentary: A Reflection from Zimbabwe River Lodge to Minneapolis Streets

By Comfort Dondo

I write this as the Zambezi River rushes close by, as powerful and constant as the tensions unfolding in the streets of Minneapolis right now. I sit with my nearly-80-year-old mother in a small lodge room — two generations bound by memory, belonging, and longing.

I am pulled between two homes: Zimbabwe, where I grew up and learned kindness, resilience, and community. And Minnesota, the place that shaped my adulthood, my motherhood, and my leadership. Both places have birthed my being — and both feel like home and yet, in moments of pain, can feel distant.

This turbulence of belonging mirrors what is happening in Minnesota today.

Minnesota has become a crucible of national conflict and local courage. Following the fatal shooting of a mother and community member by an ICE agent, federal immigration enforcement expanded its presence across the Twin Cities. Protests have drawn thousands, neighbors organizing, grieving, and demanding accountability.

And for many Minnesota families, the pain isn’t abstract. It’s personal.

When Darkness Comes for Our Neighbors

This week I learned that my nephew — gentle, loving, a father and beloved uncle — was picked up by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). He is a father of American-born children, with no criminal record, taken from the community where he worked, laughed, and loved. For my children, he is the uncle who inspired them to learn American Sign Language just so they could talk with him.

When “Anna” called me this week, trembling with sobs I could barely make sense of, her voice contained a fear too many Minnesotans know: her fiancée, deaf and hard of hearing, had been detained with no clarity on his treatment or fate. For many families, the fear is not just of separation but of how those in detention will be treated amidst an enforcement atmosphere where due process feels secondary to headlines.

In response, our small grassroots organization rallied. We reached out to legislators, volunteers, community partners, and neighbors. Within hours, we raised over $19,000 to support legal representation for Anna’s fiancé, care for his children, and to meet immediate needs while he remains in detention.

Not because we had resources to spare, but because we believe in community. Because we hold fast to the philosophy that ‘I am because we are.’ Ubuntu. If the children — or our neighbors — are not well, none of us are truly well.

Why Minnesota Still Shines

Across the U.S., the political discourse feels fractured, cold, and unyielding. Yet in Minnesota — again and again — I see people stepping forward. I see neighbors organizing mutual aid, pastors and youth leaders standing side by side, and strangers becoming advocates for one another.

I saw this in 2020, when Minnesota’s grief over the murder of George Floyd became a catalyst for collective action, reform conversations, and community solidarity. I saw it again in recent days as protests and organizing around ICE’s actions brought thousands into the streets — not just to oppose violence but to affirm the dignity of every family and neighbor.

It is no coincidence that this state — my home — stands at these crossroads. The lesson I carry from both Zimbabwe and Minnesota is this: light does not overpower darkness in a single moment. It endures through community, commitment, and collective courage.

Minnesota is not perfect. No place is. But it remains, for me, a ray of light in a dark cave — a place where neighbors rise, where grief becomes determination, and where faith in justice persists even when fear is loud.

Minnesota shows that when community stands together, hope endures — even in the face of fear, even when belonging feels tenuous.

And perhaps, that is the true meaning of light.

Comfort Dondo is a community leader and founder of Phumulani: Minnesota African Women Against Violence. She lives in  Minnesota and is now home away from her birth home of  Zimbabwe, working at the intersection of migration, healing, and collective accountability.