Opinion / Columnist
Zimbabwe's rot of corruption began at the top - that's where it must end
4 hrs ago | Views
No one can deny that Zimbabwe has become synonymous with corruption.
This morning, I woke up to deeply disturbing news reports that shook me to the core - not because they were shocking, but because they were sadly familiar.
One headline detailed how nurses in Zimbabwe are now reportedly demanding payment from people living with HIV in exchange for access to antiretroviral (ARV) treatment.
This, in the midst of a worsening shortage of ARVs caused by a significant decline in donor funding, particularly following the drastic aid cuts by U.S. President Donald Trump at the start of his second term in January 2025.
The Zimbabwean government had pledged to bridge the gap left by this funding reduction, assuring citizens of its capacity to supply life-saving medication.
Yet, the grim reality on the ground tells a completely different story.
To directly receive articles from Tendai Ruben Mbofana, please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08
Desperate patients have begun receiving drastically reduced allocations of ARVs, while others are forced to pay bribes to obtain what should be free, life-sustaining treatment.
What is even more troubling is the response from some nurses, who openly justified this corrupt practice as a necessary means of supplementing their meager incomes.
Instead of expressing remorse or concern for the lives at risk, they spoke with a sense of entitlement and resignation, revealing just how deeply corruption has eaten into the moral fabric of our society.
In another report, a woman from Chipinge was recently sentenced to 12 years in prison for defrauding people of $40,000 in a fake nursing training scam.
She falsely promised placements at Mashoko Hospital, duping desperate young people seeking a future in nursing.
These two incidents, though seemingly isolated, are symptomatic of a much broader, more malignant disease - a society where corruption has become normalized, even accepted, across all levels of life.
Zimbabwe is now regarded as the most corrupt country in southern Africa, according to Transparency International's 2024 Corruption Perceptions Index, which gave the country a dismal score of 21 out of 100.
This is not just a statistic.
It is a devastating indictment of our national conscience, a reflection of how far we have sunk into the quicksand of self-interest, lawlessness, and moral decay.
Corruption, whether grand or petty, has profound consequences that ripple throughout society.
Economically, it diverts scarce resources away from development into the hands of a few, stifling growth and worsening inequality.
Politically, it erodes trust in government institutions, leading to apathy, disillusionment, and social unrest.
Morally, it corrodes the values that bind a nation, replacing integrity and service with greed and impunity.
It is no wonder Zimbabwe continues to lag behind its regional peers in development indicators - because national progress cannot co-exist with normalized theft and impunity.
But how did we get here?
How did we become a society where nurses feel justified asking for bribes from HIV patients, or police officers feel no shame soliciting cash at roadblocks?
Why have we allowed corruption to become so deeply entrenched that it is now seen as a necessary survival tool, rather than a vice to be shunned?
To answer that, we must turn to our history.
Only a few decades ago, such blatant acts of corruption were rare in Zimbabwe.
But a turning point came in the late 1980s, when The Chronicle newspaper, then edited by the fearless Geoff Nyarota, exposed the infamous Willowgate scandal.
Cabinet ministers had been buying vehicles at concessionary prices from the state-run Willowvale Mazda Motor Company and reselling them for huge profits.
The scandal implicated high-ranking officials, including the current Speaker of Parliament, Jacob Mudenda, and the current Minister of Higher Education, Fredrick Shava.
Although the scandal led to some resignations, none of those implicated ever served a day in prison.
Then-president Robert Mugabe swiftly issued presidential pardons, setting a chilling precedent.
That singular moment signaled to the ruling elite - and by extension, the nation - that corruption in high places would not only go unpunished, but would, in effect, be protected.
It sent a message that those with political power or proximity to it were above the law.
From that moment, the rot began.
What followed was a devastating decline of once-thriving state enterprises such as the Zimbabwe Iron and Steel Company (Ziscosteel), the National Railways of Zimbabwe (NRZ), the Cold Storage Commission (CSC), and the Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority (ZESA).
A government commission led by Justice George Smith in the late 1990s exposed massive corruption and mismanagement in these institutions.
Yet, no meaningful action was taken against those implicated.
Figures like Sydney Gata, repeatedly linked to maladministration in the power utility sector, continued to enjoy influential positions.
This culture of impunity has only worsened under the so-called "Second Republic."
Recently, a damning investigation by South Africa's Revenue Service and Financial Intelligence Centre revealed that R1.1 billion was paid by Zimbabwe's Treasury to a South African company, Ren-Form CC, ostensibly for electoral materials.
Shockingly, R800 million of that money was funneled to accounts linked to controversial businessman Wicknell Chivayo.
Despite public outrage, the Mnangagwa administration has remained silent.
Chivayo continues to receive government tenders and is regularly seen with the president at high-profile events, including meetings with foreign heads of state.
As the old saying goes, "The fish rots from the head."
When those at the top are seen to thrive on corruption, protected and even celebrated for it, what hope is there for the rest of society?
What happens when thieves are projected as entrepreneurs?
When looters are admired as role models?
When no one knows what these individuals do, yet they live lavishly and command respect?
The inevitable result is a society where ordinary citizens feel justified engaging in the same behavior - from bribing a traffic cop, to paying their way out of licensing requirements, to demanding kickbacks for public services.
Today, nearly every Zimbabwean has either witnessed or participated in corruption in some form.
But the answer is not simply to blame the citizens.
The real cancer lies at the top.
We cannot hope to eliminate corruption among ordinary people while the elite continue to loot with impunity.
We cannot expect ethical nurses or honest police officers when the example from above is one of greed and lawlessness.
Ending corruption in Zimbabwe will require more than cosmetic reforms or hollow rhetoric.
It demands a ruthless and fearless commitment to accountability - especially at the highest levels of power.
Those who are looting public resources must face real consequences, including prosecution and imprisonment.
The culture of impunity must be broken.
Only when there is a high cost to corruption - instead of rewards and protection - will we begin to see a shift in behavior across society.
The rot must stop where it started.
Until we clean up the top, we cannot expect the bottom to change.
● Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com, or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/
This morning, I woke up to deeply disturbing news reports that shook me to the core - not because they were shocking, but because they were sadly familiar.
One headline detailed how nurses in Zimbabwe are now reportedly demanding payment from people living with HIV in exchange for access to antiretroviral (ARV) treatment.
This, in the midst of a worsening shortage of ARVs caused by a significant decline in donor funding, particularly following the drastic aid cuts by U.S. President Donald Trump at the start of his second term in January 2025.
The Zimbabwean government had pledged to bridge the gap left by this funding reduction, assuring citizens of its capacity to supply life-saving medication.
Yet, the grim reality on the ground tells a completely different story.
To directly receive articles from Tendai Ruben Mbofana, please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08
Desperate patients have begun receiving drastically reduced allocations of ARVs, while others are forced to pay bribes to obtain what should be free, life-sustaining treatment.
What is even more troubling is the response from some nurses, who openly justified this corrupt practice as a necessary means of supplementing their meager incomes.
Instead of expressing remorse or concern for the lives at risk, they spoke with a sense of entitlement and resignation, revealing just how deeply corruption has eaten into the moral fabric of our society.
In another report, a woman from Chipinge was recently sentenced to 12 years in prison for defrauding people of $40,000 in a fake nursing training scam.
She falsely promised placements at Mashoko Hospital, duping desperate young people seeking a future in nursing.
These two incidents, though seemingly isolated, are symptomatic of a much broader, more malignant disease - a society where corruption has become normalized, even accepted, across all levels of life.
Zimbabwe is now regarded as the most corrupt country in southern Africa, according to Transparency International's 2024 Corruption Perceptions Index, which gave the country a dismal score of 21 out of 100.
This is not just a statistic.
It is a devastating indictment of our national conscience, a reflection of how far we have sunk into the quicksand of self-interest, lawlessness, and moral decay.
Corruption, whether grand or petty, has profound consequences that ripple throughout society.
Economically, it diverts scarce resources away from development into the hands of a few, stifling growth and worsening inequality.
Politically, it erodes trust in government institutions, leading to apathy, disillusionment, and social unrest.
Morally, it corrodes the values that bind a nation, replacing integrity and service with greed and impunity.
It is no wonder Zimbabwe continues to lag behind its regional peers in development indicators - because national progress cannot co-exist with normalized theft and impunity.
But how did we get here?
How did we become a society where nurses feel justified asking for bribes from HIV patients, or police officers feel no shame soliciting cash at roadblocks?
Why have we allowed corruption to become so deeply entrenched that it is now seen as a necessary survival tool, rather than a vice to be shunned?
To answer that, we must turn to our history.
Only a few decades ago, such blatant acts of corruption were rare in Zimbabwe.
But a turning point came in the late 1980s, when The Chronicle newspaper, then edited by the fearless Geoff Nyarota, exposed the infamous Willowgate scandal.
Cabinet ministers had been buying vehicles at concessionary prices from the state-run Willowvale Mazda Motor Company and reselling them for huge profits.
The scandal implicated high-ranking officials, including the current Speaker of Parliament, Jacob Mudenda, and the current Minister of Higher Education, Fredrick Shava.
Although the scandal led to some resignations, none of those implicated ever served a day in prison.
Then-president Robert Mugabe swiftly issued presidential pardons, setting a chilling precedent.
It sent a message that those with political power or proximity to it were above the law.
From that moment, the rot began.
What followed was a devastating decline of once-thriving state enterprises such as the Zimbabwe Iron and Steel Company (Ziscosteel), the National Railways of Zimbabwe (NRZ), the Cold Storage Commission (CSC), and the Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority (ZESA).
A government commission led by Justice George Smith in the late 1990s exposed massive corruption and mismanagement in these institutions.
Yet, no meaningful action was taken against those implicated.
Figures like Sydney Gata, repeatedly linked to maladministration in the power utility sector, continued to enjoy influential positions.
This culture of impunity has only worsened under the so-called "Second Republic."
Recently, a damning investigation by South Africa's Revenue Service and Financial Intelligence Centre revealed that R1.1 billion was paid by Zimbabwe's Treasury to a South African company, Ren-Form CC, ostensibly for electoral materials.
Shockingly, R800 million of that money was funneled to accounts linked to controversial businessman Wicknell Chivayo.
Despite public outrage, the Mnangagwa administration has remained silent.
Chivayo continues to receive government tenders and is regularly seen with the president at high-profile events, including meetings with foreign heads of state.
As the old saying goes, "The fish rots from the head."
When those at the top are seen to thrive on corruption, protected and even celebrated for it, what hope is there for the rest of society?
What happens when thieves are projected as entrepreneurs?
When looters are admired as role models?
When no one knows what these individuals do, yet they live lavishly and command respect?
The inevitable result is a society where ordinary citizens feel justified engaging in the same behavior - from bribing a traffic cop, to paying their way out of licensing requirements, to demanding kickbacks for public services.
Today, nearly every Zimbabwean has either witnessed or participated in corruption in some form.
But the answer is not simply to blame the citizens.
The real cancer lies at the top.
We cannot hope to eliminate corruption among ordinary people while the elite continue to loot with impunity.
We cannot expect ethical nurses or honest police officers when the example from above is one of greed and lawlessness.
Ending corruption in Zimbabwe will require more than cosmetic reforms or hollow rhetoric.
It demands a ruthless and fearless commitment to accountability - especially at the highest levels of power.
Those who are looting public resources must face real consequences, including prosecution and imprisonment.
The culture of impunity must be broken.
Only when there is a high cost to corruption - instead of rewards and protection - will we begin to see a shift in behavior across society.
The rot must stop where it started.
Until we clean up the top, we cannot expect the bottom to change.
● Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com, or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/
Source - Tendai Ruben Mbofana
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