Neville's arrest deepened the rift between Mutsvangwa and Chiwenga

The dramatic arrest of Neville Mutsvangwa in 2024 on allegations of money laundering and illegal currency dealings did more than just shake Harare's political elite - it marked the beginning of a deep and bitter rupture between Zanu-PF spokesperson Chris Mutsvangwa and Vice President Constantino Chiwenga. That rift has since widened, culminating in Mutsvangwa's explosive claim that the 2018 White City Stadium grenade attack - which nearly killed President Emmerson Mnangagwa - was an "inside job" plotted by senior party insiders.

These two events - separated by six years - are now connected by a single thread: a relentless power struggle within Zanu-PF, one that has turned comrades into rivals and blurred the line between loyalty and survival.

When Neville was arrested, it initially appeared to be part of the state's crackdown on illegal forex trading and efforts to stabilise the newly introduced Zimbabwe Gold (ZiG) currency. But Chris Mutsvangwa saw through a different lens - one tinted by politics and betrayal. In a fiery interview with The Standard, he absolved Mnangagwa of any role in his son's ordeal and instead pointed fingers at "somebody else who thinks that he is wearing the shoes of the head of state." That "somebody," Mutsvangwa hinted, was Chiwenga - Mnangagwa's deputy and long-time rival in Zimbabwe's ongoing succession saga.

Mutsvangwa's fury was personal, but its implications were political. By suggesting that Chiwenga had weaponised law enforcement to target his family, he rekindled a feud that had been smouldering since the early days of the Second Republic. The arrest, in his view, was not a coincidence but a calculated attempt to break his loyalty to Mnangagwa and weaken the president's civilian support base.

Months later, Mutsvangwa's rage has erupted again - this time in the form of a blistering public attack on Chiwenga. During a press briefing in Harare, he accused the Vice President of being a "power-hungry opportunist" and claimed that the 2018 grenade attack on Mnangagwa in Bulawayo's White City Stadium was orchestrated by insiders seeking to eliminate the president before the election. His allegation - that the attempt on Mnangagwa's life was an "inside job" - represents a stunning escalation in the factional war.

To understand the weight of that accusation, one must look back to 2018, when the explosion killed two security aides and left dozens injured, including senior officials. Mnangagwa survived - but the identity of the perpetrators has remained a mystery. For Mutsvangwa to now allege that the plot came from within Zanu-PF's top ranks, and implicitly link it to Chiwenga's circle, is to draw battle lines with irreversible consequences.

The animosity between the two men runs deep. Chiwenga, a former military commander who led the 2017 coup that installed Mnangagwa, has long seen himself as the rightful heir to the presidency. Mutsvangwa, on the other hand, has built his career around fierce civilian loyalty to Mnangagwa - a relationship he insists dates back to 1978, when he served as one of the president's early assistants in Mozambique. By contrast, he has repeatedly belittled Chiwenga's war record, accusing him of joining the Zanla front late in 1978, "a year before victory," and of exaggerating his liberation credentials.

This pattern of delegitimisation - painting Chiwenga as a latecomer and opportunist - reveals Mutsvangwa's deeper strategy: to weaken the Vice President's moral and historical claim to leadership. And in this context, Neville's arrest provided the perfect pretext for Mutsvangwa to go on the offensive, framing the event as political persecution and a symptom of Chiwenga's growing desperation.

"The persecution of my son as a carrot and stick to that nefarious enterprise will never yield the much-craved outcome," Mutsvangwa warned earlier this year. That statement now echoes in the wake of his latest outburst, where he accused Chiwenga of using war veterans and proxies such as Blessed Geza to destabilise Mnangagwa's leadership.

The feud has now moved beyond rhetoric. The upcoming Zanu-PF conference in Mutare, where Mnangagwa is expected to consolidate his power and push for an extension beyond 2028, has become a symbolic battlefield. Chiwenga's faction is reportedly mobilising behind the scenes, while Mutsvangwa's camp continues to portray Mnangagwa as the unifying face of "the revolution" - a direct rebuke to the Vice President's ambitions.

By revisiting the White City Stadium attack, Mutsvangwa has raised the stakes to dangerous levels. His claim that it was an "inside job" does not just accuse his rival of political intrigue; it implies treachery at the highest level of the state - the kind that could unravel the very fabric of Zanu-PF's internal unity.

What began as a family crisis in 2024 has evolved into a full-scale political showdown. Neville's arrest served as a spark - and now, with the grenade allegations, Mutsvangwa has poured fuel on the fire.

Whether this is a calculated act of defiance or a desperate bid for relevance, one thing is clear: the relationship between Mutsvangwa and Chiwenga has collapsed beyond repair. And as the battle for Mnangagwa's succession intensifies, the fallout threatens to destabilise not just the ruling party but the entire architecture of power in Zimbabwe.

The grenade may have exploded in 2018, but its political shrapnel is still tearing through Zanu-PF today.