Black and White farmers rebuild Zimbabwe's agricultural ties

In a field rich with paprika plants near the heart of Zimbabwe, fourth-generation white farmer Daniel Burger and newcomer Miriam Mupambawashe - a black farmer who arrived with the land reforms of the early 2000s - stand side by side discussing the health of the crop.

Their partnership is emblematic of a quiet transformation taking root in Zimbabwe's agricultural sector, once devastated by a chaotic land reform program that sought to redress colonial-era inequities but triggered economic collapse and widespread food shortages.

Burger, 36, whose family retained one of the few commercial farms not seized during the controversial land takeovers, now leases land from Mupambawashe and provides tractors and technical assistance. Mupambawashe, 59, was one of thousands of black Zimbabweans who received farmland during the government's 2000s reform drive, though she admits she initially knew little about farming.

"When we first came here in 2001, it was a forest and there was nothing built," she recalls. "Some of the white farmers were angry, but we managed to talk to each other in good faith and move forward."

Rather than harbor resentment, she says some white farmers extended a hand. "They brought their own tractors and equipment to help. It was a nice gesture."

The land reform program, launched by the late President Robert Mugabe, aimed to redistribute land from around 4,000 white farmers - who still controlled the best agricultural land two decades after independence - to landless black citizens. But the process, marred by violence and lack of planning, saw farms collapse under inexperienced ownership. Political elites also grabbed land, often leaving it idle. Zimbabwe soon faced chronic food insecurity and became reliant on international aid.

"There was a tough period through the 2000s," said Burger, who is vice-president of the Commercial Farmers Union of Zimbabwe (CFU). "It sort of refuelled racial tensions to an extent. But being so passionate about farming was the motivator for me to move forward."

Today, Mupambawashe's once-barren plot thrives. "It was hard at first - we had equipment stolen and the failures were embarrassing," she said. "But now I only need to buy sugar and cooking oil."

As Zimbabwe seeks to recover from the long shadow of its land seizures, the government has taken steps toward compensating dispossessed white farmers. In 2020, it announced a US$3.5 billion compensation fund, meant to cover infrastructure on seized farms, not the land itself - which authorities claim was colonially stolen.

However, Zimbabwe has struggled to raise the funds. In 2023, it revised the deal, offering one percent of the amount in cash and the rest in US dollar-denominated treasury bonds. In April 2025, the first tranche of payments reached 378 of the 780 farmers approved under the scheme.

But not all are satisfied.

Deon Theron, a representative of the Compensation Steering Committee, criticized the bonds as "unsecured," with "limited recourse in the event of non-performance by government," and argued that new negotiations are needed. "The general feeling amongst the farmers is frustration - after 20 years, we still have not received anything."

Others, like the Property and Farm Compensation Association led by Harry Orphanides, are willing to accept the government's offer. "The bonds are under international guarantee," he said. "Digging in and seeking more would be futile."

Back in the paprika fields, however, Burger and Mupambawashe believe in collaboration more than conflict.

"Our purpose was never just about compensation," Burger said. "It was always about driving agriculture forward."

As Zimbabwe grapples with its past, their partnership offers a hopeful glimpse of what a reconciled and productive future might look like - rooted in the soil and growing, row by row.