At 0500, as the sun's rays begin to light up the Harare suburb of Kuwadzana, Chimbo Charakupa sets off on his daily 10 km walk.

But he is not training for the next Olympics - he can no longer afford the bus fare to get to work.

Two hours later, his legs and feet already aching, he arrives in time for a full day supervising the store-room at his work-place.

At 4pm, he begins the return journey, getting home as the sun sets.

If we get home, we just eat and sleep, because we'll be tired of walking from here to home, it's so embarrassing

Chimbo

He just has time, and energy, for dinner before he collapses, completely wiped out, into bed.

At last, a few hours of rest before the routine is repeated the next day.

Pain

"If we get home, we just eat and sleep, because we'll be tired of walking from here to home, it's so embarrassing," he says.

A 20km round trip to work is typical

His deep sigh reveals the mental, as well as physical pain of such a gruelling life-style on a middle-aged family man, who had thought of himself as relatively comfortable.

The price of petrol and therefore transport has risen twice, virtually doubling, since the end of July.

If Chimbo were to take the bus to work, he would spend US$20 a month on transport - 40% of his take-home pay.

The one - tiny - consolation for Chimbo is that he is not alone.

During rush hour, there is now a steady stream of people walking and cycling by the road-side.

They all have a similar story to tell.

Sums don't add up

Nyasha Manatsa is an accountant.

I've got no choice but to walk, because I want to keep my job

Nyasha Manatsa

After finishing his schooling and then spending four years at university, he now finds himself unable to pay the bus fare to get to work - buying a car is completely out of the question.

He too, walks 20km a day.

"I feel bad, I feel let down," he complains.

"I feel I should be able to get a bus home and rest because I work very hard, but I've got no choice but to walk, because I want to keep my job."

And if things are getting tight for accountants, pity manual labourers.

No point working

Emmanuel - he didn't want to give his surname - is a welder.

Those walking to work are lucky enough to have a job

"I'm finishing this December, then I go "Kumusha" (to my rural home) for ever. There's no point working anymore."

Emmanuel, Nyasha and Chimbo know that global oil prices have been rising.

But they also know that Zimbabwe has been experiencing fuel problems for almost a year now.

Corruption

Petrol prices have risen far more than in the rest of the world because of a sadly all too familiar story of corruption and poor planning in the state company, Noczim, which until recently, had a monopoly on importing fuel.

Eighteen months ago, the then Minister of Energy, Enos Chikowore (who has since become one of the few Zimbabwean ministers to resign) told the nation that senior Noczim managers had swindled the company out of US$35 million and would be suspended.

The situation is so bad at the moment, we must do something

Chimbo

They had allegedly rigged tenders and paid cronies for fuel which was never delivered but have still not been brought for trial.

In 1998, hikes in the fuel price triggered Zimbabwe's most violent riots ever. This panicked the government which, through Noczim, controls the price of fuel.

Noczim was ordered to sell petrol below cost price but the authorities didn't make up the difference.

This obviously unsustainable situation carried on until Noczim's creditors, owed around US$ 230 million, turned off the taps demanding immediate payment.

They now require cash up-front before shipping any fuel to Zimbabwe, while motorists and commuters are paying for all those years of corruption and mismanagement.

"The situation is so bad at the moment, we must do something," says Chimbo.

And they are the lucky ones, who still have jobs at a time when many businesses are closing down and laying off their workers.