Opinion / Columnist
Why were Zimbabweans left behind 45 years after independence, in the first place?
6 hrs ago | Views
There's always something telling - yet deeply disturbing - about the mantras repeated by the Zimbabwean government.
Yesterday, I watched a report on the state-controlled broadcaster in which the Emmerson Mnangagwa administration was, once again, patting itself on the back for electrifying a small rural area through its Rural Electrification Agency (REA).
As has become the norm, the authorities wasted no time touting this as a major developmental milestone, proudly presenting it as part of the broader objective of "leaving no one and no place behind."
To the government, this was clearly a cause for celebration - another victory on their long march to progress.
Yet, I found myself wondering: this is 45 years after Zimbabwe attained independence - why then are we still talking about "leaving no place behind"?
● 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.
Why are most parts of Zimbabwe, especially rural areas, still lightyears behind the rest of the country?
More importantly, why were they ever left behind in the first place?
Let's not forget that one of the primary grievances raised by those who led and supported the liberation struggle was precisely the neglect and underdevelopment of rural communities by the colonial government.
Those who were being recruited into the war were promised a better future.
They were told that, upon independence, they would finally be afforded dignity and equality with their urban compatriots.
There would be modern schools and well-equipped hospitals.
There would be tarred roads and clean running water.
They would be given access to fertile land to engage in meaningful agricultural activities, free from colonial restrictions.
And perhaps most significantly, they would reclaim the lands from which they or their forebears had been forcibly removed under colonial rule.
However, 45 years later, the lived reality of most rural Zimbabweans tells a different story - a story of betrayal and unfulfilled promises.
These communities, which formed the backbone of the liberation struggle, remain trapped in grinding poverty and squalor.
The very same backwardness they fought to escape continues to define their existence.
Electricity is still a luxury for most. Piped water is a rarity.
The few schools that exist, many of them built in the immediate aftermath of independence, have remained largely untouched by any meaningful upgrades.
They lack furniture, textbooks, qualified teachers, and, in some cases, even proper roofs.
In far too many instances, children are still learning under trees or in ramshackle makeshift structures.
Health facilities, where they exist, are equally deplorable.
Rural clinics often operate without essential medications, equipment, or trained personnel.
The idea of an ambulance or a functioning maternity ward is a distant dream for many villagers.
Infrastructure is so substandard that it is not uncommon to hear reports of clinic roofs being blown off by strong winds or bridges being washed away after seasonal rains.
To make matters worse, the very land question that ignited much of the liberation struggle remains largely unresolved for the rural majority.
While the Zimbabwean government did launch a land reform program in the early 2000s, it was anything but equitable.
According to statistics, only 23,500 people benefitted from A2 commercial farms, while 360,000 were resettled on A1 smallholder plots.
When we consider that Zimbabwe's rural population is estimated at over 5 million, this means a mere 7.12% received land under the program, leaving a staggering 92.88% consigned to overcrowded and infertile communal areas - the same colonial relics they were promised an escape from.
Rather than prioritizing the landless majority, the land redistribution process was hijacked by the politically connected elite.
Farms were parceled out not based on need or merit, but on loyalty to the ruling party and its leaders.
Multiple farms were grabbed by ministers, military officials, and ruling party cronies, while the ordinary peasant farmer - the same villager who fed and housed freedom fighters during the war - was tossed a few barren acres with no support or infrastructure.
Even the initial support from the British government under the Lancaster House Agreement, which had committed to funding land acquisition for fair and transparent redistribution, was squandered.
This commitment was not unconditional.
As highlighted in the famous letter by Britain's then Secretary of State for International Development, Clare Short, to Zimbabwe's Minister of Agriculture, Kumbirai Kangai, the UK stopped funding the program because Zimbabwe had begun acquiring land through violent and chaotic means, undermining both the rule of law and transparency.
The funds, Short explained, had been misappropriated, failing to benefit the landless poor.
This mismanagement and corruption killed any future prospects of foreign assistance.
The reality is stark: 45 years after independence, millions of Zimbabweans are still reliant on government handouts just to survive.
They are given agricultural inputs at the beginning of the season, and if rains fail, they must rely on food aid.
This alone is proof that rural livelihoods were never truly transformed.
Dependency has replaced dignity.
That is why my heart bleeds whenever I hear the Mnangagwa administration talk about "leaving no one and no place behind."
I find myself asking: why were these people left behind in the first place?
Why was the development promised in 1980 not delivered, when hope still abounded and resources were available?
Why has there never been a sincere, robust program to bring rural areas in line with urban standards?
This is not to say that urban areas have thrived either.
Far from it.
Since independence, towns and cities have deteriorated at an alarming rate.
Places that once had uninterrupted water supply have gone for years without a drop flowing through household taps.
In my own hometown of Redcliff, water shortages have become a daily crisis.
Urban dwellers now endure nearly 16 hours of power cuts each day.
Roads have crumbled into death traps, and once-proud schools and hospitals are now in decay.
But even with this urban decline, it is rural areas that bear the brunt of our post-independence failure.
Their plight is more extreme, more silent, and more scandalously ignored.
Even under this so-called "leaving no one and no place behind" initiative, what development is actually taking place?
Are one or two poorly constructed clinics or classroom blocks something to be celebrated?
Is connecting a single school or clinic to electricity really worth a national broadcast?
Is this the standard to which we have been reduced?
Piecemeal projects that serve more as propaganda tools than actual transformation?
Zimbabwe is a richly endowed country.
We have vast mineral resources, fertile land, and human talent.
Yet, the wealth generated from our diamonds, gold, platinum, and lithium never trickles down to the people - most of whom live in the rural areas where these minerals are extracted - while individual companies rake in billions of dollars.
Our wealth is hoarded by a corrupt elite, just like the land.
The masses, both rural and urban, remain poor, excluded, and voiceless.
After 45 years of independence, we should not be struggling to meet the most basic developmental benchmarks.
We should be exporting electricity, not celebrating a single transformer.
We should be producing enough food to feed the region, not relying on foreign donors.
We should have world-class schools and hospitals, not ruins from a bygone era.
The fact that rural Zimbabwe remains in a state of colonial-era stagnation is a national disgrace.
It is not just a failure of policy but a betrayal of the liberation struggle itself.
Until we confront this uncomfortable truth and commit to genuine, people-centered development - not slogans, not photo-ops, not patronizing half-measures - Zimbabweans will continue to be left behind, while those who claim to lead us live in obscene comfort.
©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/
Yesterday, I watched a report on the state-controlled broadcaster in which the Emmerson Mnangagwa administration was, once again, patting itself on the back for electrifying a small rural area through its Rural Electrification Agency (REA).
As has become the norm, the authorities wasted no time touting this as a major developmental milestone, proudly presenting it as part of the broader objective of "leaving no one and no place behind."
To the government, this was clearly a cause for celebration - another victory on their long march to progress.
Yet, I found myself wondering: this is 45 years after Zimbabwe attained independence - why then are we still talking about "leaving no place behind"?
● 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.
Why are most parts of Zimbabwe, especially rural areas, still lightyears behind the rest of the country?
More importantly, why were they ever left behind in the first place?
Let's not forget that one of the primary grievances raised by those who led and supported the liberation struggle was precisely the neglect and underdevelopment of rural communities by the colonial government.
Those who were being recruited into the war were promised a better future.
They were told that, upon independence, they would finally be afforded dignity and equality with their urban compatriots.
There would be modern schools and well-equipped hospitals.
There would be tarred roads and clean running water.
They would be given access to fertile land to engage in meaningful agricultural activities, free from colonial restrictions.
And perhaps most significantly, they would reclaim the lands from which they or their forebears had been forcibly removed under colonial rule.
However, 45 years later, the lived reality of most rural Zimbabweans tells a different story - a story of betrayal and unfulfilled promises.
These communities, which formed the backbone of the liberation struggle, remain trapped in grinding poverty and squalor.
The very same backwardness they fought to escape continues to define their existence.
Electricity is still a luxury for most. Piped water is a rarity.
The few schools that exist, many of them built in the immediate aftermath of independence, have remained largely untouched by any meaningful upgrades.
They lack furniture, textbooks, qualified teachers, and, in some cases, even proper roofs.
In far too many instances, children are still learning under trees or in ramshackle makeshift structures.
Health facilities, where they exist, are equally deplorable.
Rural clinics often operate without essential medications, equipment, or trained personnel.
The idea of an ambulance or a functioning maternity ward is a distant dream for many villagers.
Infrastructure is so substandard that it is not uncommon to hear reports of clinic roofs being blown off by strong winds or bridges being washed away after seasonal rains.
To make matters worse, the very land question that ignited much of the liberation struggle remains largely unresolved for the rural majority.
While the Zimbabwean government did launch a land reform program in the early 2000s, it was anything but equitable.
According to statistics, only 23,500 people benefitted from A2 commercial farms, while 360,000 were resettled on A1 smallholder plots.
When we consider that Zimbabwe's rural population is estimated at over 5 million, this means a mere 7.12% received land under the program, leaving a staggering 92.88% consigned to overcrowded and infertile communal areas - the same colonial relics they were promised an escape from.
Rather than prioritizing the landless majority, the land redistribution process was hijacked by the politically connected elite.
Farms were parceled out not based on need or merit, but on loyalty to the ruling party and its leaders.
Multiple farms were grabbed by ministers, military officials, and ruling party cronies, while the ordinary peasant farmer - the same villager who fed and housed freedom fighters during the war - was tossed a few barren acres with no support or infrastructure.
Even the initial support from the British government under the Lancaster House Agreement, which had committed to funding land acquisition for fair and transparent redistribution, was squandered.
This commitment was not unconditional.
As highlighted in the famous letter by Britain's then Secretary of State for International Development, Clare Short, to Zimbabwe's Minister of Agriculture, Kumbirai Kangai, the UK stopped funding the program because Zimbabwe had begun acquiring land through violent and chaotic means, undermining both the rule of law and transparency.
The funds, Short explained, had been misappropriated, failing to benefit the landless poor.
This mismanagement and corruption killed any future prospects of foreign assistance.
The reality is stark: 45 years after independence, millions of Zimbabweans are still reliant on government handouts just to survive.
They are given agricultural inputs at the beginning of the season, and if rains fail, they must rely on food aid.
This alone is proof that rural livelihoods were never truly transformed.
Dependency has replaced dignity.
That is why my heart bleeds whenever I hear the Mnangagwa administration talk about "leaving no one and no place behind."
I find myself asking: why were these people left behind in the first place?
Why was the development promised in 1980 not delivered, when hope still abounded and resources were available?
Why has there never been a sincere, robust program to bring rural areas in line with urban standards?
This is not to say that urban areas have thrived either.
Far from it.
Since independence, towns and cities have deteriorated at an alarming rate.
Places that once had uninterrupted water supply have gone for years without a drop flowing through household taps.
In my own hometown of Redcliff, water shortages have become a daily crisis.
Urban dwellers now endure nearly 16 hours of power cuts each day.
Roads have crumbled into death traps, and once-proud schools and hospitals are now in decay.
But even with this urban decline, it is rural areas that bear the brunt of our post-independence failure.
Their plight is more extreme, more silent, and more scandalously ignored.
Even under this so-called "leaving no one and no place behind" initiative, what development is actually taking place?
Are one or two poorly constructed clinics or classroom blocks something to be celebrated?
Is connecting a single school or clinic to electricity really worth a national broadcast?
Is this the standard to which we have been reduced?
Piecemeal projects that serve more as propaganda tools than actual transformation?
Zimbabwe is a richly endowed country.
We have vast mineral resources, fertile land, and human talent.
Yet, the wealth generated from our diamonds, gold, platinum, and lithium never trickles down to the people - most of whom live in the rural areas where these minerals are extracted - while individual companies rake in billions of dollars.
Our wealth is hoarded by a corrupt elite, just like the land.
The masses, both rural and urban, remain poor, excluded, and voiceless.
After 45 years of independence, we should not be struggling to meet the most basic developmental benchmarks.
We should be exporting electricity, not celebrating a single transformer.
We should be producing enough food to feed the region, not relying on foreign donors.
We should have world-class schools and hospitals, not ruins from a bygone era.
The fact that rural Zimbabwe remains in a state of colonial-era stagnation is a national disgrace.
It is not just a failure of policy but a betrayal of the liberation struggle itself.
Until we confront this uncomfortable truth and commit to genuine, people-centered development - not slogans, not photo-ops, not patronizing half-measures - Zimbabweans will continue to be left behind, while those who claim to lead us live in obscene comfort.
©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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