Zimbabwe's call for body donations is ultimately a call to disrespect our deceased loved ones

Respect lies at the heart of Ubuntu, and nothing embodies this more profoundly than honouring those who loved us but are no longer with us.

As I was reading a news article this afternoon about calls for Zimbabweans to donate their bodies for medical science, I felt a deep sense of disturbance. 

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It was not because I deny the importance of medical education, nor because I fail to recognise that our doctors desperately need proper training tools, including cadavers. 

Rather, it was because I found the appeal lacking in the profound sensitivity required when speaking about the bodies of those we love—bodies that once carried life, warmth, memory, and deep emotional connection. 

To me, the request felt like the height of disrespect to the deceased, especially our close family members whose physical presence shaped our very existence.

No one disputes the simple fact that, upon death, a person's body becomes lifeless. 

Science, religion, and culture all acknowledge this physical reality. 

But what is often forgotten in these discussions is that the deceased body is not just a biological object. 

It is the physical form of someone who once lived, laughed, struggled, cared, nurtured, gave birth to us, raised us, consoled us, and loved us with an intensity no scientific instrument could ever measure. 

That body is the only tangible reminder of who they were to us in our private, intimate lives. 

It is the vessel through which their affection reached us, the arms that held us, the hands that wiped away our tears, the face we looked into for comfort. 

It is impossible for me to imagine this physical form being reduced to a scientific specimen, dissected, cut open, stripped of skin, and hung in a laboratory as an anonymous skeleton to be poked, rotated, or prodded by students who never knew who she was.

Having only recently lost my dear mother - a woman who was not only the one who gave me life but was my closest friend, my source of strength, my anchor -it is unimaginable to even consider the possibility of her body being used as some biological object for study. 

She may no longer be here physically, but that body which held me as a child, which stayed up at night nursing me, which worked tirelessly throughout her life to give me the best upbringing she could, still deserves the highest degree of respect. 

She gave fifty years of her life to the medical profession as a nurse. 

She trained countless nurses and cared for countless patients. 

That contribution was more than enough for medical science. 

Now she deserves rest - peaceful, undisturbed, dignified rest.

I am not approaching this from a cultural or religious angle. 

I know well that different traditions handle death differently, and I respect that. 

But I am speaking purely from a position of practicality, emotional reality, and human empathy. 

Even if one leaves behind a signed donor form or legal document, the impact on the loved ones left behind can be deeply traumatic. 

We bury our dead not simply because religion or custom tells us to, but because burial is part of the grieving process. 

It allows us to honour them, to lay them to rest, to accept the finality of their departure, and to carry forward their memory with emotional closure. 

To instead have one's mother or father turned into a permanent class project, even if "treated with dignity," has a psychological effect that no technical explanation can erase.

Of course, there will be those who argue that donating one's body to medical science is a noble act. 

And indeed, for those who freely choose it - fully understanding what it means, and after thoroughly discussing it with their families - that is their right and prerogative. 

It is not my place to interfere with another person's final wishes. 

The story of Mrs. Rosalie Chigariro, the first black Zimbabwean woman to donate her body to the University of Zimbabwe, is moving in its own way. 

She made that decision for herself, and that choice was honoured. 

Her story may encourage some to follow in her path, and that is entirely their personal choice.

But we must be honest. 

The emotional burden of such a choice falls mostly on those who remain alive. 

That is why those who want to donate should discuss the matter openly with their loved ones long before death. 

Leaving such a unilateral decision behind, without dialogue, could cause deep emotional injury that lasts a lifetime. 

For the university to urge the public to consider body donation, without equally emphasising the emotional impact on the bereaved, feels incomplete and insensitive.

In truth, if the University of Zimbabwe's Department of Anatomy is genuinely desperate for cadavers, there are more appropriate alternatives that avoid emotional harm to families. 

For instance, Zimbabwe's mortuaries are full of unclaimed bodies - individuals whose families may be unknown or who cannot be identified. 

Instead of calling on ordinary Zimbabweans to surrender the bodies of their loved ones, these unclaimed remains could legally and ethically be used for educational purposes, after proper procedures and legal authorisation. 

Many countries do exactly that.

Furthermore, in an era of technological advancement, relying solely on real human bodies feels outdated. 

Modern medical training globally is increasingly shifting toward advanced models, synthetic cadavers, 3D-printed organ systems, plastinated bodies, and highly detailed virtual anatomy simulations. 

While it is true that nothing fully replaces the complexity of a real body, these alternatives significantly reduce dependency on actual cadavers while still offering rich, effective training. 

If Zimbabwe is serious about improving medical education, investment in such modern methods should be a top priority. 

A nation that claims to be striving toward "upper middle-income status" should not continue relying solely on methods from a century ago.

This issue is not about undermining medical training. 

It is about balancing the needs of education with the emotional, psychological, and moral realities of losing loved ones. 

It is about respecting the dead and respecting the living who grieve them. 

It is about recognising that even in death, the body of a loved one is still sacred to those left behind.

Personally, I can never imagine the trauma I would endure if my late mother's body had been taken for scientific study. 

She was a nurse for half a century. 

She gave everything she had to the medical field. 

In her death, she deserves peace, dignity, and the honour of being laid to rest - not the clinical coldness of a laboratory.

Let those who wish to donate do so willingly. 

But let us never pressure or guilt the public into giving up the physical remains of those they love. 

Our mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, husbands, and wives are not objects. 

They were living beings whose bodies carried their love and identity. 

Even in their stillness, they deserve honour.

© 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/