Zanu-PF tried to hijack IShowSpeed's Zimbabwe tour

When American streaming sensation Darren "IShowSpeed" Watkins Jr touched down in Harare last week, millions of fans around the world expected his trademark high-energy, unscripted antics. What unfolded, however, appeared carefully choreographed, leaving viewers to question whether the 20-year-old had been subtly co-opted into Zimbabwe's political PR machine.

Speed, known for his chaotic livestreams and obsession with footballer Cristiano Ronaldo, was taken on a tour of the government's so-called "Second Republic" infrastructure and heritage projects. The itinerary, critics said, felt less like a genuine cultural experience and more like a curated showcase of state achievements.

The stream began at the Mbuya Nehanda statue in Harare's CBD. While ostensibly meant to highlight national heritage, the encounter struck many as staged. Speed was introduced to a sangoma whose fortune-telling focused suspiciously on immediate events rather than ancestral insight. The sangoma assigned him the Shumba (Lion) totem — also President Emmerson Mnangagwa's totem — which many observers saw as an attempt to symbolically link the influencer to the state narrative.

The tour then shifted to the newly commissioned Trabablas Interchange, named after Mnangagwa's liberation war pseudonym. Here, Speed participated in a "strength challenge," racing Africa's Strongest Woman by pulling cars and lifting tires — activities unrelated to the interchange itself. The location, analysts noted, was clearly chosen to capture the infrastructure in the livestream rather than for any authentic engagement.

During the drive, Speed repeatedly asked his guide, Chief Ben, why the journey was taking so long, highlighting his impatience and detachment from the political theatre surrounding him. For an American accustomed to massive highways, the spectacle of a single interchange "flex" seemed out of context and primarily designed for political optics.

The political branding intensified at Mabvuku Ground Number One, where Speed attended a football match. He was offered a jersey from Scottland FC, a club with strong ties to the first family and Zanu-PF-aligned businessman Scott Sakupwanya. Unaware of the team's political connections, Speed declined the jersey, keeping his Zimbabwe national team colors.

Later, Chief Ben attempted to present him with a Nathan Mutasa jersey — the son of socialite Pokello Nare, known for links to the first family — but Speed again refused. His decisions were interpreted as an unintentional but visible rejection of the political messaging Zanu-PF tried to attach to his global brand.

Observers say the strategy was a deliberate attempt at "digital rebranding": using Speed, a symbol of youthful global culture, to project an image of Zimbabwe as modern and thriving under the Mnangagwa administration. Yet, Speed's authentic, unfiltered content style — visible boredom during long drives, refusal to don politically symbolic jerseys — undermined the PR effort, exposing the tension between viral influencer culture and orchestrated political narratives.

Ultimately, while Zanu-PF may have hoped to harness the power of internet virality, Speed's visit underscored that global content creators operate on their own terms, often resisting attempts at co-option. The episode highlighted the challenges governments face when trying to leverage international influencers for domestic political messaging.