Rhodes' grave must be removed from Matobo

Last year, sometime in November 2024, while I was asleep, I experienced something that I can only describe as deeply unsettling.

A very strange voice appeared in my dream. It was not vague or distant, it was clear, direct, and emotionally charged. The voice was angry, and for the entire night it kept repeating the same words to me over and over again: "Why do you persecute us . . . liberate us from this dark cloud."

The repetition was relentless. It felt deliberate, as though the message itself mattered more than explanation. The dream was so powerful that I could not simply sleep through it. I woke up several times during the night, and when morning came, I found myself sitting with it, trying to make sense of what I had heard. To my surprise, I could not find any logical meaning. There was no obvious connection to my immediate life or circumstances.

Eventually, I allowed it to pass.

At the back of my mind, I tried to rationalise it. I told myself it was one of those things that happen when the body is under stress when you sleep dehydrated or exhausted and the mind uses strange signals, sometimes even nightmares, to force you awake. I convinced myself it was physiological, nothing more. Still, something about it lingered.

Then sometime in April 2025 around the 18th, the dream returned.

The voice was exactly the same. The words were exactly the same. But the tone had changed. It was no longer angry. It was sad. Heavy. Almost disappointed. The sadness in the voice disturbed me more than the anger had.

This time, the visuals were far more intense. I could see old people seated quietly. Some were wearing long robes. Others were dressed in animal skins. They were not speaking. They were not moving. They were simply sitting there, all of them looking directly at me, as though waiting to see what I would do with the message being delivered.

I woke up immediately, shaken.

This time, I could not dismiss it. I felt genuine concern. I spoke to people around me and tried to seek meaning. I even searched online, not because I expected definitive answers, but because I needed context.

One of the first interpretations I encountered suggested that dreams involving elders especially those wearing robes and animal skins often relate to ancestral guidance, inherited responsibility, primal memory, or a connection to ancient knowledge and tradition. It also emphasised that the meaning depends heavily on the dreamer's personal context and emotional response.

Days passed. The idea stayed with me. I managed to live with it, but it never left my thoughts entirely.

Then, in August 2025, during the Heroes Day commemorations, the dream appeared again and this time it was overwhelming. I woke up drenched in sweat. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. The same voice was there, repeating the same message, but the imagery had changed completely.

This time I saw massive rocks balanced in a fragile equilibrium, suspended as if time itself had paused. They were on the verge of falling. On one side stood old people dressed in animal skins. On the other stood old people wearing long robes. The tension was unmistakable. If the rocks tipped to either side, there would be casualties. The balance felt symbolic, deliberate, and dangerous.

Then one of the elders in long robes spoke directly to me. He called me by my totem and said:

"Mzukulu akahambe, skhulule, akahambe uLodzi." (Grandchild, liberate us! Rhodes Must Go)

The words were repeated six times. I woke up immediately.

From that day onwards, I knew deep within myself that this was not random. Whether one understands it spiritually, psychologically, or historically, I knew that the underground gang (our ancestors) were trying to communicate something urgent.

And that understanding forced me to ask a question I had never seriously confronted before: why would the ancestors want Rhodes gone?

That question pushed me back to history.

I began reading more deliberately. I consulted several history books, but one stood out clearly: "Zimbabwe: Diverse but One" by veteran nationalist historian Cain Mathema.

In that book, I encountered a crucial idea, ‘Zimbabwe's political history cannot be separated from its spirituality'. Mathema explains that at the end of each kingdom and the beginning of another, national spirit mediums would relocate to the new political centre and establish residence at the new shrine.

At one point, these national spirit mediums were located at Great Zimbabwe. By the time of the last precolonial state, they had relocated to Matobo. That is why Matobo is not just land. It is not just scenery. It is not just heritage. It is a national spiritual centre. To this day, it houses national shrines.

Kings were buried there for a reason. Under the Mwari religious tradition, they were believed to continue watching over and protecting the people in death. These kings did not simply die; they transitioned into national spirit mediums.

Once I understood this, everything began to connect.

There is something profoundly significant about Matobo. And it became clear to me that this significance was exactly what had been communicating with me. The message was simple but heavy: there is an unwanted guest there. That guest is Cecil John Rhodes.

Matobo is sacred precisely because it is where kings were buried. These were the kings of Zimbabwe, whose spiritual authority transcended death. Their presence sanctified the land.

Now here is what must be understood.

During the colonisation of Africa, colonial systems did not operate blindly. They invested time and resources into understanding indigenous societies, especially the systems that worked. One of the systems they identified as powerful was native spirituality. It unified people. It legitimised authority. It sustained resistance. And because of that, it made the colonial project deeply uncomfortable.

That is why spirit mediums such as Mbuya Nehanda and Sekuru Kaguvi were executed so publicly and so brutally. Their deaths were not random acts of cruelty. They were strategic acts meant to disintegrate the spiritual backbone of the country.

Cecil John Rhodes stands at the centre of this colonial project. He is the godfather of colonial conquest in this region, and his legacy continues to haunt us. Rhodes lived in Zimbabwe. He studied Zimbabwe. He understood Zimbabwe's history. He understood the significance of places like Matobo.

According to the late historian Phathisa Nyathi, Rhodes knew exactly what sacred places represented. That is why, during their cultural crimes, colonial forces did not destroy sites like Matobo. Instead, they occupied them, appropriated them, and used them.

Rhodes died in Cape Town on 6 March 1902. Yet his remains were transported from Cape Town all the way to Matobo. This was not accidental. It was intentional.

The reason kings were buried at Matobo was because they were believed to continue watching over their people. Historians argue that Rhodes was fully aware of this belief. Some accounts even suggest that he once encountered an old man at Matobo an old man who had long died but whose spirit occasionally took human form. Rhodes reportedly witnessed this.

To Rhodes, this was not something to fear. It was an opportunity.

By choosing to be buried at Matobo, Rhodes sought to posthumously enforce his colonial legacy. He wanted to "watch over" his people. But Rhodes' people were not the indigenous inhabitants of this land. His people were the Pioneer Column. His people were the architects of dispossession, exploitation, and racial domination.

By inserting himself into Matobo, Rhodes attempted to anchor colonial power within African spirituality itself.

That is why he chose Matobo. That is why he lies there alongside figures like Leander Starr Jameson of the Jameson Raid. The same Jameson whose name still appears across some institutions and businesses today. Others like Thomas Meikles (TM) follow the same pattern. My point is simple: Rhodes deliberately positioned himself to permanently defy and occupy the national shrine.

And remember, in its time, Matobo was so sacred that ordinary people could not freely access it as we do today.

So the question now is unavoidable: what do we do?

The answer is simple: #Rhodes must go.

Cecil John Rhodes must be removed from Matobo. He must not be repatriated to Britain, but he must not remain within Zimbabwe's sacred geography either. He should be reburied in a place that reflects his true legacy.

In African burial traditions, individuals who caused collective harm were buried in specific ways to ensure their spirits did not trouble the living. As a matter of spiritual and cultural justice, Rhodes and his partner cannot remain at Matobo.

Matobo has since become a heritage site and a public space. Yet Rhodes continues to enjoy free visibility. Tourists visit. They ask who he was. Every explanation reproduces his legacy.

As long as he lies there, Rhodes continues to define Zimbabwe in subtle but powerful ways.

Perhaps now more than ever, it is time to radicalise the decolonisation project.

Rhodes must be exhumed and reburied in a place deserving of his status.

Keeping Rhodes at Matobo is no different from burying Ian Douglas Smith at the National Heroes Acre.

It is a complete insult.

Tedious Ncube is an Entrepreneur and Academic