Opinion / Columnist
No, Mr. Chivayo, it's not your money, it's ours!
5 hrs ago | Views
It's mind-boggling how easily some people slip into delusion.
Wicknell Chivayo's recent outburst on social media - declaring that he has no obligation to assist public hospitals and can do whatever he pleases with "his money" - is not only insensitive but dangerously revealing.
In a country grappling with the collapse of public healthcare, where patients die from preventable illnesses due to a lack of basic supplies and underpaid medical staff flee in droves, such a statement is nothing short of a slap in the face to millions of suffering Zimbabweans.
What makes Chivayo's remarks particularly galling is not just their arrogance, but the shaky moral ground on which they are made.
It would have been one thing if "his wealth" had been earned transparently through legitimate business operations.
But before declaring with such bravado that he has the right to lavish luxury vehicles on celebrities, church leaders, and socialites simply because it's "his money," Chivayo must first answer a fundamental question: where, exactly, did all this wealth come from?
● If you believe in Tendai Ruben Mbofana's fight for justice in Zimbabwe, please consider supporting his work financially. Every contribution helps him keep going, independently and fearlessly.
This is not a rhetorical question.
Zimbabweans deserve to know the true source of what Chivayo calls "his money", especially given the disturbing trail of corruption allegations, court convictions, and questionable tenders that follow his name.
This wealth, in all likelihood, is not the fruit of innovation, enterprise, or industry - but proceeds of state capture and looting of public resources.
Just recently, South African law enforcement authorities uncovered that Chivayo received a staggering R800 million from Johannesburg-based company Ren-Form CC.
The company had been awarded a controversial R1.1 billion tender by the Zimbabwe Electoral Commission (ZEC), with the payment made by Zimbabwe's Treasury - ostensibly for the procurement of election materials.
Details revealed in investigations show that significant amounts of this money were transferred into Chivayo's business accounts, where they were used not for development or investment, but for personal luxury.
Authorities exposed purchases of high-end vehicles, extensive international travel, and unexplained cash withdrawals running into millions.
Not only does this raise red flags on the legitimacy of these transactions, but it strongly suggests that Chivayo has become a conduit for siphoning public money under the guise of government tenders.
This is not an isolated incident.
Chivayo remains at the center of the unresolved Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority (ZESA) corruption scandal, in which he was dubiously awarded a US$5 million advance payment for the construction of a 100MW solar power plant in Gwanda.
That was in 2015.
Nearly a decade later, not a single panel has been installed.
No solar power has been generated.
What exists at the site is an empty field, an enduring symbol of the impunity with which politically connected individuals continue to drain Zimbabwe's coffers.
There are other suspicious deals too - obscure, inflated tenders awarded without transparency or accountability.
Each time, Chivayo's name appears in the background, pocketing millions while public services collapse.
With such a record, can he sincerely stand before Zimbabweans and claim that the money he throws around with such flamboyance is truly his?
His social media is a stage of obscene display - announcing plans to purchase a Bombardier Global 5500 private jet, valued at over US$51 million; boasting about impromptu flights to Mozambique for seafood lunches; showing off his Rolls Royce V12, among a growing fleet of super luxury cars.
These posts are not just tasteless in a country where the majority can barely afford a loaf of bread - they are a painful reminder of the grotesque inequality and state-enabled plunder that defines our times.
That is why Chivayo's assertion that he is not the Minister of Health and has no responsibility toward our ailing hospitals is so offensive.
His attempt to absolve himself of any moral or social obligation assumes that the wealth he possesses is private and uncontaminated by public interest.
But when you are living lavishly off public tenders, when your bank accounts are swollen from opaque deals with government departments funded by taxpayers, you forfeit the luxury of pretending you are a self-made man.
In fact, the very idea of expecting Chivayo to donate medicines or hospital equipment is dangerous.
Doing so would not only sanitize what is likely the proceeds of crime - it would help launder that wealth in the eyes of the public.
It would transform him from a suspected beneficiary of corruption into a celebrated philanthropist.
That is a narrative we must reject.
Zimbabwe does not need more billionaire saviors throwing breadcrumbs to the desperate in exchange for applause.
We need justice. We need transparency. We need to recover what has been stolen.
If Chivayo insists the money is truly his, then let him prove it.
Let him voluntarily submit himself to a full forensic audit.
Let him lay bare the details of his business interests, his contracts, his income streams.
Let Zimbabweans see the invoices, the deliverables, the taxes paid.
Real businessmen do not fear scrutiny.
Real philanthropists do not need to defend their generosity with insults.
Until then, the claim that he can do whatever he wants with "his money" is hollow.
Because as far as the evidence suggests, it is not his money - it is our money.
Money meant for hospitals that now lie in ruins.
Money meant for infrastructure that was never built.
Money meant for development but stolen and wasted on symbols of wealth that mock the suffering of the masses.
Chivayo should not be near any public hospital handing over donations.
He should be in front of a commission of inquiry or a court of law, explaining how he came to be one of the richest individuals in a country drowning in poverty.
And until that day comes, no one - especially not him - has the right to silence legitimate public concern with the tired line: "It's my money."
Because, Mr. Chivayo, unless you can prove otherwise, it is not your money.
It is ours.
And we want it back.
© 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/
Wicknell Chivayo's recent outburst on social media - declaring that he has no obligation to assist public hospitals and can do whatever he pleases with "his money" - is not only insensitive but dangerously revealing.
In a country grappling with the collapse of public healthcare, where patients die from preventable illnesses due to a lack of basic supplies and underpaid medical staff flee in droves, such a statement is nothing short of a slap in the face to millions of suffering Zimbabweans.
What makes Chivayo's remarks particularly galling is not just their arrogance, but the shaky moral ground on which they are made.
It would have been one thing if "his wealth" had been earned transparently through legitimate business operations.
But before declaring with such bravado that he has the right to lavish luxury vehicles on celebrities, church leaders, and socialites simply because it's "his money," Chivayo must first answer a fundamental question: where, exactly, did all this wealth come from?
● If you believe in Tendai Ruben Mbofana's fight for justice in Zimbabwe, please consider supporting his work financially. Every contribution helps him keep going, independently and fearlessly.
This is not a rhetorical question.
Zimbabweans deserve to know the true source of what Chivayo calls "his money", especially given the disturbing trail of corruption allegations, court convictions, and questionable tenders that follow his name.
This wealth, in all likelihood, is not the fruit of innovation, enterprise, or industry - but proceeds of state capture and looting of public resources.
Just recently, South African law enforcement authorities uncovered that Chivayo received a staggering R800 million from Johannesburg-based company Ren-Form CC.
The company had been awarded a controversial R1.1 billion tender by the Zimbabwe Electoral Commission (ZEC), with the payment made by Zimbabwe's Treasury - ostensibly for the procurement of election materials.
Details revealed in investigations show that significant amounts of this money were transferred into Chivayo's business accounts, where they were used not for development or investment, but for personal luxury.
Authorities exposed purchases of high-end vehicles, extensive international travel, and unexplained cash withdrawals running into millions.
Not only does this raise red flags on the legitimacy of these transactions, but it strongly suggests that Chivayo has become a conduit for siphoning public money under the guise of government tenders.
This is not an isolated incident.
Chivayo remains at the center of the unresolved Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority (ZESA) corruption scandal, in which he was dubiously awarded a US$5 million advance payment for the construction of a 100MW solar power plant in Gwanda.
That was in 2015.
Nearly a decade later, not a single panel has been installed.
No solar power has been generated.
What exists at the site is an empty field, an enduring symbol of the impunity with which politically connected individuals continue to drain Zimbabwe's coffers.
There are other suspicious deals too - obscure, inflated tenders awarded without transparency or accountability.
Each time, Chivayo's name appears in the background, pocketing millions while public services collapse.
With such a record, can he sincerely stand before Zimbabweans and claim that the money he throws around with such flamboyance is truly his?
His social media is a stage of obscene display - announcing plans to purchase a Bombardier Global 5500 private jet, valued at over US$51 million; boasting about impromptu flights to Mozambique for seafood lunches; showing off his Rolls Royce V12, among a growing fleet of super luxury cars.
These posts are not just tasteless in a country where the majority can barely afford a loaf of bread - they are a painful reminder of the grotesque inequality and state-enabled plunder that defines our times.
That is why Chivayo's assertion that he is not the Minister of Health and has no responsibility toward our ailing hospitals is so offensive.
His attempt to absolve himself of any moral or social obligation assumes that the wealth he possesses is private and uncontaminated by public interest.
But when you are living lavishly off public tenders, when your bank accounts are swollen from opaque deals with government departments funded by taxpayers, you forfeit the luxury of pretending you are a self-made man.
In fact, the very idea of expecting Chivayo to donate medicines or hospital equipment is dangerous.
Doing so would not only sanitize what is likely the proceeds of crime - it would help launder that wealth in the eyes of the public.
It would transform him from a suspected beneficiary of corruption into a celebrated philanthropist.
That is a narrative we must reject.
Zimbabwe does not need more billionaire saviors throwing breadcrumbs to the desperate in exchange for applause.
We need justice. We need transparency. We need to recover what has been stolen.
If Chivayo insists the money is truly his, then let him prove it.
Let him voluntarily submit himself to a full forensic audit.
Let him lay bare the details of his business interests, his contracts, his income streams.
Let Zimbabweans see the invoices, the deliverables, the taxes paid.
Real businessmen do not fear scrutiny.
Real philanthropists do not need to defend their generosity with insults.
Until then, the claim that he can do whatever he wants with "his money" is hollow.
Because as far as the evidence suggests, it is not his money - it is our money.
Money meant for hospitals that now lie in ruins.
Money meant for infrastructure that was never built.
Money meant for development but stolen and wasted on symbols of wealth that mock the suffering of the masses.
Chivayo should not be near any public hospital handing over donations.
He should be in front of a commission of inquiry or a court of law, explaining how he came to be one of the richest individuals in a country drowning in poverty.
And until that day comes, no one - especially not him - has the right to silence legitimate public concern with the tired line: "It's my money."
Because, Mr. Chivayo, unless you can prove otherwise, it is not your money.
It is ours.
And we want it back.
© 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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