George Charamba's political dilemma

If there is one man who perfectly embodies the tightrope of Zimbabwean politics, it is George Charamba, the long-serving presidential spokesperson who has now found himself once again at the centre of a bitter and growing succession tug-of-war within Zanu-PF.

Charamba's predicament is not new. It is a familiar drama - the same script, only with new actors. In 2017, he was caught between the late President Robert Mugabe and then Vice President Emmerson Mnangagwa as factional fires consumed Zanu-PF. Back then, Charamba's attempts to balance loyalty between the two camps ended in humiliation when Grace Mugabe publicly berated him, accusing him of playing double agent during the chaotic months before the coup.

Fast forward to 2025, and the movie seems to be replaying itself - only this time, the tension is between Mnangagwa and his deputy, Constantino Chiwenga. Once again, Charamba is walking a perilous line between two centres of power.

Officially, Charamba serves at the pleasure of President Mnangagwa, his paymaster through the public service system. Politically, however, Chiwenga remains his true boss, the man who - like in 2017 - holds sway over the military and commands quiet respect among Zanu-PF's liberation war generation.

That uncomfortable duality explains Charamba's recent frantic social media postings, written in his signature bombastic style under the pseudonym Jamwanda. His latest outburst, following Zanu-PF's Annual People's Conference in Mutare, was a verbose attempt to paper over the growing cracks between Mnangagwa and Chiwenga.

In his own words, Charamba thundered:

"If your politics subsists in investing in a wedge between ED and CDGN, think again. Haina bhobho storo iyoyo. Chindisiyai ndinyore Dissertation rangu!"

But beneath the laughter emojis and academic posturing lies a nervousness that even his eloquence cannot hide. His long monologue went to great lengths to convince readers that all is well between the President and his deputy - a claim contradicted by the visible tension and factional undertones that dominated the Mutare conference.

Charamba's detailed account of Mnangagwa asking Chiwenga's wife for help with a Ndebele word - and later handing over the conference proceedings to Chiwenga - was presented as evidence of unity. Yet to seasoned observers, it read more like damage control than genuine political analysis.

Charamba, as always, is trying to perform the impossible: protecting his career while defending two rival principals. His loyalty to Mnangagwa is administrative; his instinct for survival still whispers that Chiwenga could one day be the next commander-in-chief.

The irony, of course, is that Charamba is once again trying to extinguish factional fires that he himself helped stoke. His penchant for spinning political narratives has often turned him into both messenger and manipulator, straddling the line between public relations and propaganda.

What is clear, however, is that the old fissures within Zanu-PF have resurfaced - and Charamba's behaviour is a mirror reflecting them. The more defensive he becomes, the more apparent it is that the centre of power is shifting, and those around it are scrambling to stay relevant.

In 2017, Charamba misread the wind and was nearly swept away with Mugabe's fall. Whether he has learned from that experience remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: in Zanu-PF, loyalty is temporary, and survival is an art - an art George Charamba has mastered, but one that may soon demand yet another painful choice between two bosses.